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Weird Dreams

I had a couple really weird dreams last night. I was getting ready to go to drumcorps ? the buses were just outside, and it was the beginning of the season, but a bunch of us were already sleeping in a big room (like a gym or an armory). All my stuff was everywhere, though, and disorganized, and unpacked, like I was still at home. I kept going through my stuff, packing it into bags, deciding what to bring and in what bags, all the while realizing that people were loading up on the bus already. Somehow, I knew that I’d never really unpacked my stuff from the previous year (or two), so I knew I had everything I’d need right there.

Finally, I got all my stuff almost together, and ran out to the bus I saw outside my window so that they wouldn?t leave me. The bus said Crusaders on the side, and I couldn?t believe that we were renting buses from Boston and not even changing the name on the side. When I climbed up, though, I saw that it was the chuck truck, not the member bus. I told the cooks inside, who were also just about to go, that I was almost ready to go and wanted to make sure the bus didn?t leave without me. They looked at me kind of amused, and told me that I?d better start running, then, because it had already left.

I was dumbfounded ? no one had told the driver that I wasn?t on board? Had no one noticed? Wacky D (a drummer from my days in Northern Aurora) was there, but older, and he and the other cooks agreed that I could come on the chuck truck with them if I hurried.

I also had a dream that Rob Wozniak kissed me, but that was really weird. Not entirely unpleasant in my dream, but weird in retrospect. I never found him attractive, really, and still don’t.

(For anyone who doesn’t know, Rob used to work for RCC, and now works in my department at Sky Bank.)

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Hannukah For Dummies

What is Hanukah? (from Hanefesh.com):

The Jews observe the Festival of Lights for eight days, in honor of the historic victory of the Maccabbees and the miracle of the oil.

The Hebrew word Chanukah means “dedication.” In the 2nd century BCE, the Syrian-Greek regime of Antiochus sought to pull Jews away from Judaism, with the hopes of assimilating them into Hellenism — Greek culture. Antiochus outlawed aspects of Jewish observance — including the study of Torah — which began to decay the foundation of Jewish life and practice. During this period, many of the Jews began to assimilate into Greek culture, taking on Greek names and marrying non-Jews.

In response, a band of Jewish settlers took to the hills of Judea in open revolt against this threat to Jewish life. Led by Matitiyahu, and later his son Judah the Maccabee (“The Hammer”), this small band of pious Jews led guerrilla warfare against the Syrian army.

Antiochus sent thousands of well-armed troops to crush the rebellion — but the Maccabees succeeded in driving the foreigners from their land.

Jewish fighters entered Jerusalem in December, 164 BCE. The Holy Temple was in shambles, defiled and desecrated by foreign soldiers. They cleansed the Temple and re-dedicated it on the 25th day of the Jewish month of Kislev. When it came time to re-light the Menorah, they searched the entire Temple, but only one small jar of oil bearing the pure seal of the High Priest could be found. Miraculously, the small jar of oil burned for eight days, until a new supply of oil could be brought.

From then on, Jews have observed a holiday for eight days in honor of this historic victory and the miracle of the oil.

Today, the observance of Chanukah features the lighting of a special Chanukah menorah with eight branches (plus a helper candle), adding one new candle each night. Other customs include spinning the dreidel (a top with Hebrew letters on the sides), eating “oily” foods like potato latkes (pancakes) and sufganiyot (jelly donuts), and giving Chanukah gifts & coins) to children.

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ruminations

Vicarious

I kind of understand why people get all into their soap operas and dramas and such: experiencing such strong emotions without having to deal with their actual, real-life consequences can be cleansing.

It’s different when it’s not fiction.

Take Rori, for instance, whose blog I’ve been following for a couple months now. Her mother died almost three years ago, and reading her “Mom” category is absolutely heartwrenching on so many levels. Apart from the poignancy of the tale itself, it also helps me remember those I’ve lost (my Granny, my first stepdad, my Memaw); and it helps me remember that not only have I not had anything so horribly grievous happen in my life, but that I should count my blessings and let my loved ones know that they’re loved.

‘Tis the season, after all.