Tuesday, October 2, 2007

Thursday Oct 2


In my dream I am in the round schul and it is old and dark. The chairs and benches are bolted to the floor. Dirt and balls of dust gather around the bolts. I realize I have discussed the chairs before with my father. He told me they came from a subway car of an experimental type never used by the owners.

I walk along the wall some more and I see in the dark the figure of a woman. I imagine it is my mother but it doesn't look like her. This woman is old and tiny and seems unwell. She tells me there is mud in her stomach. I tell her I will get my beloved father olam haba to help her and she tells me he is no longer inside the synagogue. I remember where the door is and then I am upon it, a small wooden door like the door to a house not very like the door to a synagogue at all.

Outside it is a bright spring day. I can't see for the sun is in my eyes.

Soon I am walking the street in my town of Sniatyn. I know somehow my mother no longer lives in our house, she lives in one of the neighbors houses now. I remember the house but I have never been through the door. It is ordinary and painted white and I wonder how it will feel to be inside. As I walk to it my feet leave the ground, I float and drift in the air and soon I am above the roof tops. I know it will be easy to find my father if I fly and so I learn to move my arms and feet to turn this way and that, the houses pass beneath me faster and faster. I am beset by sadness because I never knew I could fly and I think about how different my life would be if only I had known.

Now I am afraid because I am going higher and I cannot stop myself. I see a big city now, across the river. I don't why its there because Sniatyn is a small town with nothing around it but hills and the river. I feel a lurch and I begin to fall. It takes a long time but I am calm, I spin and tumble like I am under water. I wonder why I am not worried. I drift toward the city on my way down but I think I am going to fall into the river instead. This is a relief because if I land on the ground I might get hurt but the river is just water and will break my fall. I think I will be safe if I hold my breath.

Image Source: "Sniatyn. Rooftop view. Circa 1910." from Zwierzanski Website. Original source unknown.


  1. Lately I've been experimenting with fictionalized interpretations of my grandfather's thoughts and experiences, especially on days when he doesn't write anything in his diary. The passage above is an example, though I haven't written them all as dreams (see the October 5th post at http://papasdiary.blogspot.com/2007/10/sunday-oct-5.html for a more straightforward exercise). What do you think?