The sign read: "Smithy's Bricks – Where a Brick is a Brick is a Brick!" I was looking to buy bricks, so it seemed I'd come to the right place. Entering the building I was directed to the office of Mr. Smithy himself – founder, owner and proprietor of Smithy's Bricks. He was a large jovial sort, faintly reminiscent of a, well, brick. Well built, I mean. Mr. Smithy came out from behind his desk, extended a welcoming hand while simultaneously steering me to a thick upholstered chair. After asking in a welcoming manner if I wanted tea or coffee, and my declining politely, Mr. Smithy got right to the point.
"So my dear friend (good to know I was the dear friend of such an esteemed businessman) how may I be of assistance to you in your goodly endeavors?"
"I've come to buy bricks", succinctly stating the obvious.
"Well you've come to the right place, that's for sure. I'm sure you'll find our bricks are of the highest quality. You may perhaps have seen our motto? 'A brick is a brick is a brick!' Just pray tell me how many and give me the particulars and we'll be on our merry way!" he said in a, well, merry way.
"Ah, I'm not sure exactly, but I think to start with two thousand and if that won't suffice I can always order more, yes?"
"More? The more the merrier! Just the particulars, sir, the circumstances, please"
"Particulars? I'm afraid I don't follow you" I replied.
"Oh, a small matter, really. The issue is, of course, what do you need the bricks for? We wouldn't want to be selling our precious bricks to throw through windows!" Mr. Smithy bubbled with laughter. I assumed he laughed at the absurdity of the thought.
"Well, obviously, I'm planning to build our new house. Actually it's not really new, that is – we had an old one there, but it was torn down years ago. We're only just now getting around to rebuilding ---"
"A house, you say?" a cloud suddenly passed over Mr. Smithy's countenance.
"Well yes our house. You do sell building bricks, correct?" I was puzzled by the change in his demeanor.
"Sir – our bricks are no game! They are not some Lego building bricks! Our motto – a brick is a brick is a brick – esteems bricks. It doesn't cheapen them," he said.
"Well – I was under the impression that bricks were meant to be used to build, well, houses and such," I was entirely lost.
"Indeed no!" Mr. Smithy slammed his open palms on the mahogany desk in front of him. "No! No! We are absolutely against bricks being used – may I say misused – for building, especially not a house! We detest houses!"
"Then why sell bricks at all?"
"We love bricks! Did I not tell you our motto that ---"
"Yes, yes, a brick is a brick and so on. I wish to buy bricks to build a house on my ancestral estate! After all – bricks are for building, man!" I said, becoming exasperated.
"Please, sir, understand: we are not anti-brick. Quite the contrary! We are very much in favor of bricks! We respect and cherish all types of brick: red, yellow, white and even turquoise. However under no circumstance can we condone bricks coming together to build a house! We are staunchly pro-brick, but we are as staunchly anti-brick house!!" he roared.
Indeed he roared so strongly that I immediately heard a rumble that grew until in front of my very eyes a ton of bricks fell and I started to choke on the dust and the load of bricks piling up on my chest. Just as I was about to give up the ghost I felt hands, sensitive loving hands, taking the load of my chest, gently but firmly calling to me: "Wake up! Wake up! You've had a bad dream!"
I woke up to find myself in bed, in my home built of cement and stone – no bricks – in"Oh, it was nothing, just another bad dream about people who insist they're not anti-Semitic – just anti-Zionist! People who say they love bricks, eh Jews, – but just don't want them to come together to rebuild their home in their ancestral homeland."
Israel. When my loving wife who had just rescued me asked: "What was that dream about? Your started yelling about the absurdity of it all – the absurdity of what?"