Evelyn 1

I'm sitting at an outdoor table, sipping coffee and reading the paper. Sensing eyes upon me, I look up to see the rabbi. Not just any rabbi, The Rabbi. He's apparently deep in conversation with two yeshiva (religious school) students, but his eyes never leave me.
He bids the students to stay, approaches me. I'll take this standing up, less intimidating. I see I'm about an inch shorter.
Jovial smile, "reading about the court case?"
Drily I reply, "I was there, know more than those silly journalists. Why bother to read it?"
He roars with laughter, "you do have a dry sense of humor. Rumor has it you're leaving Israel, heading to Canada."
I nod.
He sighs, "now no offence meant, but you got off on the barest of legal technicalities. Lotsa people here in Jerusalem would happily kill you. Like some advice about Canada?"
"Yes please."
"Avoid Toronto, Montreal and Winnipeg, those big Jewish populations. You know how crazy they are about following the news. Other than that, Canada is a big place, lotta choice."
As he turns to leave, I sit, relieved. Could have been worse, a whole lot worse.
At this point I realize a policeman is there at my very table. He twists a smile, "tedious old windbag!"
We both laugh.
"Like my advice on Canada? I speak with some authority, a brother and two cousins there."
"Certainly sir, any advice would be most welcome, my Canada knowledge is limited."
"There just ain't even one Jew in Toronto who gives a rat's ass about Israel or who has for the last century. They wouldn't bother to waste five minutes of their precious time reading about it. Definitely go to Toronto, that's where all the real jobs are."
I gasp, "but sir, ah"
Huge grin, friendly tone, "kid, gonna ask only one question. Rather be the only Jew in town somewhere, cause all sorts of curiousity or rather be simply one more face in that huge crowd in TO?"
I nod, of course he's right.
At this point an alarm goes off. Suicide bombing? Gradually I realize it comes from Mum's room.
Gotta hurry now, pull myself together. In five minutes, she'll be outa the bathroom, in here pestering me if I'm not up.
It's the only dream I ever get, I mean of any great detail or vividness. Had it about once a month since age six.
I review it fast, there simply are no new clues.
I can't place the historical epoch of the dream. After all, cop uniforms over there rarely change. Hasids have been wearing the same stuff since the 1700's. And no, no car or gadget to place it.
As always, I'm struck by the sheer contrast. The Rabbi believes I'm guilty of some terrible sin, which will get me killed. The cop is decidedly flippant, as if it's no more than a penny ante charge, a week in jail or 100 shekel fine.
And as always, the overpowering sense that yes, if I can discover the meaning of this dream, I learn something big, important about life. There's a message in it somewhere.
"Come on Evelyn, stir those lazy bones and get out of bed. And wear the green floral dress today."
I groan inwardly. In this day and age, to wear a dress to anything other than your own wedding is perceived as a century outa date. Can't buy em anymore, she makes. And the green is the worst of the lot.
Still, utterly pointless to argue with any grownup, much less her.
As I spread jam on my toast, she listens to the weather on the radio.
"Good, no rain for several days. Come right home after school, no goofing off and watching TV over at Sarah's. Wash all your socks and underwear and those dresses, get it all on the line before I get home."
She's not joking, do it all by hand. Gotta make stuff last you know, machine wears it out. And the laundromat swallows too many coins. She only does sheets and a few of her things at the laundromat.
"And you make darn good and sure you don't swap lunch stuff with anyone. Especially that Sarah. Her parents don't ever pretend to be kosher. Drinking a glass of water at her place would be treyf."
I don't bother to argue, but with what I get for lunch, unlikely there will be takers for a swap. Besides, Sarah hears the exact same sermon about us. Neat, eh?