maboroshi

Good morning, everybody.

Dream #1

A group of young men sat in a basement room like in some kind of church or school. The walls may have been red bricks. There were windows high up on the walls, letting in plenty of natural light.

The young men sat in a group of folding chairs arranged in a triangle near the left wall of the room. A group of older men entered the room. They sat inn a triangle of folding chairs opposite the men. I saw all this as if my eye level were at about seat-level with the chairs and as if I were between the two triangles of chairs.

The young men had apparently served during some war in the role of torturers. These young men had actually tortured the old men. But now the two groups were supposed to make peace and be friends.

One of the young men asked the old men a kind of silly question about art or movies. One old man didn't want to hear it. The old man was kind of short, with tough, tan skin, and thinning, grey-white hair. He wore a grey blazer and slacks and a maroon sweater. He began shouting at the young man, didn't he think anything he'd done was wrong?

I now got a good view of the young men for the first time. They all projected a feeling of being very beautiful, though they were all actually kind of plain looking. Yet this feeling of beauty also created a scary feeling of calm, methodical cruelty. The men all had books in their laps, different books, as if they had each been independently reading before the old men came in.

One of the young men, a tall, pale man with thick-rimmed glasses, frizzy, black hair, and stubble, and wearing a kind of loose, pudding-yellow sweater, asked the old man a question. The young man had a pencil, as if her were going to write notes in his book.

Somehow the old man and young man got into an argument that implied that now the old men had been the torturers while the young men had been tortured.

The young man asked, "Why did you gather all of us up? Why did you carry us away?"

The old man said, "Because you looked guilty."

The young man asked, "How could we look guilty?"

The old man said, "You know, your looks. You look like a certain type."

I may have figured in my dream or just waking up from my dream that the old man meant "the Jewish type."