I often wonder at how bizarre a dream can be! Like this morning at dawn I found myself in a shop buying a raincoat! Now, why in the name of G-d should I buy a raincoat if I never wear one? I own a couple of water-resisting long jackets and a good umbrella which is all the protection I need against the rain. So why should I dream about buying a raincoat?


The dream was so vivid that when, at last awake, I still found myself standing in that shop discussing color, quality and of course price.


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“Get up, I finally told myself, you are awake now, and you don’t need a raincoat, you haven’t even got the space in your closet for a raincoat!”


They say there is some connection between our dreams and our real lives, maybe a repressed desire, a hidden wish, a long-forgotten experience. I don’t have a hidden wish for a raincoat. It seems that my own dreams are completely unconnected to my real life; I also know that it is no use trying to reconstruct a dream in the morning, often it remains on the tip of my tongue never to be released!


Many years ago when I was young, I read Freud’s interpretation of dreams, but I can’t remember if he ever interpreted the purchase of a raincoat.


Well, since Freud is no longer around, and even if he would be he may not be at my disposal, I will try myself to delve into my raincoat dream.


Why would I buy a raincoat? Would I need it for additional protection against cold? I don’t believe this, because raincoats are made of the kind of material which often adds to the feeling of cold. So let’s proceed: Would I want it because I am afraid of being caught by a sudden deluge while walking on the street, as happened to me several times these last months? This isn’t it either, because I have an umbrella. Which means I don’t always have an umbrella, because as Mr. Murphy decides, rain never comes whenever I am equipped with an umbrella.


I am finally tired of trying to figure out why I would buy a raincoat; Dr. Freud at least did it for a living!


As the assistant of our director of entertainment, I often am in charge of receiving and greeting musicians and lecturers who arrive here to perform. So one evening Igal arrives in our Towers, in order to play his music for us. He is no stranger because he plays here from time to time for many years... One evening a couple of weeks ago, he arrived here and before starting to play he tells me that he feels terrible, he may be running a fever, and he certainly has a bad cold. I look around worriedly at our public, people who can be described between elderly and old, and who certainly don’t need to be infected with Igal’s cold. I notice that he does look quite pale and unhappy and I finally tell him:


“You’ll have to go home, I can’t let you stay here with our public, I won’t be responsible for anyone of them getting sick!”


Igal gives me a wide grin, and exclaims:


“Got you!!! First of April!!! I don’t have a trace of a cold! I’ll have to tell all my friends that I really succeeded in fooling someone, I’ve been trying for years!”


This happened to me after I’d been so careful the whole day, and censored every telephone call, every e-mail message and finally, in the evening, I fell into the trap.


Spring is here and brought the Easter holiday. It also brought my youngest grandson, little sunshine who is no longer so little but still shines; he came here from San Diego and was so kind to bring his parents along and his trumpet. We are going to have fun!






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