Recognition From The Eye Of The Storm

This morning, I dreamt.

It's not clear where I was, but it was some type of community school-like building. People were urgently going about doing mundane things, yet there was a clear mystical current running through it. The setting of the dream was distinctly kabbalistic. I knew it even in the dream. There was a man there and we recognized one another as "master kabbalists", although this was an unspoken recognition.

Time was strange - like time was caught in some timeless place between time. Something historical was in the air. A storm was coming. Whatever was coming had the taste of traversing time to find us.

The entire school congregated in a particular part of the school complex - it was safer there. There were many children in the room. I saw the finger of a tornado coming toward our shelter in the distance. One of the children had run up from behind me where they were all sheltered and grabbed onto me. Ohmygosh! The tornado was here! and it was too late to put the child safely behind me again, so I pulled the child closer instead. The tornado reached down into the room and ripped the child out of my arms.

The tornado had meant to try to take something from me. It could not have succeeded. I knew these things, even in the dream. But, in its attempt, an innocent child had been taken. As our mutual grip on one another had been broken, and as I helplessly watched the child's form fading into the wind, I could sense that the tornado sensed defeat. It knew it could never take from me whatever it had come to take.

The tornado changed form and hovered like a mechanical eye, gazing at me through some separating screen which surrounded the place we were in. In its eye was recognition. Some timeless recognition. In its defeat, it doubtlessly knew who I am.

I woke up.

ליאורה חנה אלישבע צברה בת אהוביה ואדר

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