A Short Sweet Semitic Dream

It’s 3:33 a.m.

I just woke up from the first dream I can remember that hasn’t been a gut-wrenching, pyschic-rending, soul-eating nightmare… in about … forever.

Because you see, that’s the norm… about six out of seven nights… after having these oh-so-pleasant, Santa Fe pickleball-playing, “normal” Santa Fe retiree days, I then become possessed by these other-worldly horrifying nightmares, that me, myself, the conscious, rational Trules, could never even possibly imagine. It’s as if someone else altogether, writes and dreams up these tales - a combination Hieronymus Bosch and Stephen King, with skin-crawling characters, misshapen gorgons, and infinite weapons of personal destruction, that I’ve never ever seen or imagined in my everyday waking life. Where, I have to physically shake and tear myself awake - not to be torn pyschicly apart - in my dreams.

Surya, my wife, says,

You have to go see a “bomo” (shaman) - to be cured.

If only it was that easy.

In fact, if you know someone who fits the description, please let me know.

The other thing pressingly on my mind, is that Substack tells me,

Write less. Your readers don’t (want to) read your whole post. They don’t have the time. They don’t have the attention span. Or the interest. The world is not all about you. Write LESS.

Ok, I get it. I’m verbose. My posts are too fucking long and wordy. They need to be less than 1000 words, not 3000!

Ok, this one will be. I promise!

Then again, my second-to-last post, There Was a Horse, about my childhood discovery of anti-Semitism, received more Comments, and from newer readers, than any other.

One never knows, do one?

Anyway, this dream, this very night’s, which I’ll call “my short sweet Semitic dream”, is about me and my long-standing international friend, “Mohadras”… from some well-known, far away, but sort of very geographically non-specific country, that feels like, in the dream… South America… but also because of his (Mohadras’) name and the dream’s implications… also definitely implies… the Middle East. Note: my friend’s name is not “Mohammad”, as you might expect, nor is he from Egypt, Qatar, Lebanon, Iraq, or Saudi Arabia, no… but it’s a much softer and more mysterious name, “Mohadras”… ringing of “madras”, the plaid South Indian fabric that I used to wear in high school which “bled”, more the feel of Ethiopian-Rasta deity, Haile Selassie.

In the dream, I think I’m here in Santa Fe, and I’m someone sort of important, because… I hear on the news/internet that my friend, Mohadras, has made a public statement that - he’d like to speak to me - by phone - about the situation in the Middle East. Not that either of us are central players - no Bibi, Biden, Sinwar, or Haniyeh - but we’re still two wily and wizened Jewish and Muslim coots who are world-renowned and respected in our own fields, who now somehow stand for an old-school, warm and fuzzy “Peace in the Middle East”.

So… I pick up the phone and call Mohadras directly to complete his outreach and I say,

Why don’t we just get together and talk?

Good idea old Boy, he says. Where?

Let’s just meet in New York, ok?

Next thing I know, the two of us are at the U.N., standing across from each other. We’re going to talk about the Israeli/Gaza/Palestinian/October 7/war/genocide/hostage situation. But as soon we release each other from a genuine bear hug greeting, and before we open our mouths, we have these big old-school, monster tv recording earphones clapped on our heads.

Click click click.

Superlinks are being snapped together to record our every word… in ever wider and wider international supermedia hookups.

Click click click.

The world really wants to know what these two old farts think.

Mohadras can hear me just fine…. but his voice is completely muffled through my headphones. The more greedy CLICKS of connection, the worse the muffling becomes… until I can’t hear my old pal at all.

We have to stop, what has now become “The Interview”, and schedule it for the next day.

Shit, tomorrow! Now everyone’s gonna know about it. I’m gonna be assassinated before it even happens. Maybe Mohadras too. Fuck, we just want world peace, man!

Suddenly, Barack Obama is there, running interference for his old friend, Trules! You know, me and “Barry”, back from our Occidental College days in LA?

Don’t worry, Trules, Obama says. Just be yourself. Now follow me, step for step, and I’ll get you outta this throng. It’s easy, like a B-ball game, just dart and weave, man. Dart and weave.

We start darting and weaving. I’m following my old friend Barry, aka Obama. He knows everybody, casually glad-handing all of them, but he’s giving me all his direct attention…. talkin’ about the jazz show last night, the great bass player, how I can have my Israeli diplomatic friend, Raphy, meet me at the studio tomorrow, but don’t let his wife, Dya, anywhere near the camera because she’ll dominate, and make sure I bring Surya, and Exsel too.

The kid’ll really get a kick out of it.

And before I know it, we’ve darted and weaved our way through the media-feeding crowd, because that’s how it’s done, and Barry/Obama is a pro at it - just keeping his attention on something else - like me

- and -

Then I wake up.

Me and Mohadras haven’t spoken a word about the Middle East - no pro or anti-Israel comments, no pro or anti-Palestine agenda, no Gaza, no genocide, no two-state solution, no anti-Semitism, no college protests, no… anything.

Just a Short Sweet Semitic Dream.

Less than 1000 words.

Count ‘em!

xo

And An End to War!

Trules

If you enjoyed this post, or any previous ones, please LIKE IT (by clicking the Heart), and LEAVE A COMMENT. It continues to help build an enthusiastic and interactive readership.

If you have any friends who you think might enjoy Santa Fe Substack, PLEASE SHARE IT WITH THEM.

ALSO, IF YOU FIND A TYPO (a casualty of being your own editor!), please let me know so I can fix it.

And another REMINDER, to CHECK OUT “TRULES RULES on SUBSTACK” with over 100 posts and re-posts of “rants, raves, reports, and points of view + top-rated travel podcasts and some common sense”.

Thanks so much!!!

PS. MARK THE DATE: August 25th, 2024, Sunday, 4 pm. I’ll be having my 77th Birthday Bash at Club Paradiso, Early Street, Santa Fe - with a Collection of “Santa Fe Stories”. If you’re in town, or anywhere nearby, I hope to see you. If you want to reserve your place, send me a message here.

Visit my personal blog “Trules Rules” HERE

Travel the world with my “e-travels with e. trules” blog

Listen to my travel PODCAST HERE

Or go to my HOMEPAGE

My Twitter (X)  handle: @etrules