by Manu Amun
Chapter 18
As I closed my eyes and recalled the day we had, I went to bed with a smile for the first time in weeks. There was no fear of tomorrow only hope of what could be. I was optimistic where the problems of the world were out of sight and out of mind. It was only the moment that I was cherishing. I felt the beginning of new routine where normality, as much of a life for us that could be normal was within the grasp of our finger tips and all we had to do was take it and it was ours. I felt safe in Phoenix, Arizona as long as we followed the protocol our family had put in place for us. Look as normal as possible and fit in to the culture of Phoenix. Simple rules to follow and we would be fine. Although there were whispers of uncertainty and fears of unrealistic self-assurance and group assurance, they were ignored and replaced by thoughts of hopes of what could be when we succeeded. Even in moments of understanding the age of my soul, my brain and all my other human faculties were still in its development and I was still a kid. Nevertheless, I closed my eyes and fell into my dreams like a dive into a pool on a summer day.
My dream that night was like a flash of pictures hitting me in the face simultaneously where I was not even able to make sense of out it. There was a black hand holding a wand rushing towards me but it was not the wand I purchased from the store. This wand that fashioned out of old deep cherry wood that seemed from a time long ago aged and had an engraving that read “Out of Many One”. The next image was throne sitting in the middle of the abyss, the blackness stretched out for what appeared to be eternity. As I reached to get closer to the throne it moved further and further away as I made an attempt to reach for it I sank down and fell for what seemed like forever. In my fall I saw my brother and sister not able to reach out to grab them and they did not even see me falling.
I woke up in a heavy sweat and a panic. I hated those falling dreams where I never seemed to be able to catch myself. As it turned over I saw Bilal looking at me concerned.
“You ok Zohar?” he asked with a sense of sincerity that through me off because that was not his usual approach.
“You let out a helpless yell that woke me out of my sleep.” Nyema added.
“I am fine just one of those dreams but I am not sure what to make of it just a lot of images that I am not really able to connect. Wands, thrones, and falling down into what seemed a complete void; I felt helpless and that is not what I need during my sleep, I have moments like that every day.” I responded.
“Maybe that is what it is all about.” Nyema said.
“Yeah maybe, I got to shake that feeling if that is the case.” I replied.
“Thank goodness I have a healthy mix of cockiness and delusions of grandeur.” Bilal said.
“Now that’s the Bilal I know, that caring person must have been an out of body experience. Were you astral traveling before you woke up and had an entity walk in or something?” I asked.
“You see Zohar that doesn’t work for you. Let me be Eddie Murphy and you be Charlie Murphy.” Bilal replied.
As I rolled over I decided to listen to Nyema’s advice of the situation. With everything that was going on my place of solitude of dream space, the control I felt prior to closing my eyes quickly disappeared. I was a fool to think that meditation, reading a book, getting some spiritual tools, and a packet was enough. I understood what my parents were trying to do but they could not see this far. They were only doing what was best in their minds but I have not really taken an honest and critical look at our situation.
From the night the president made that address their response was to protect us which I understand but coming out to Arizona to hide and build up to train for whatever the future may hold is almost like a cop out. What about the people who were taken to the concentration camps? Who plans for them and what is their fate?
I am forever grateful for what my parents have done for us. We are safe but there are people that are not, with the constant drone strikes and raids it is only a matter of time before there is no one left to fight with us. But what does it mean to fight an army when we are only kids ourselves? Our parents just seemed content with getting us here and letting us figure it out, it kind of feels like we are no better than cowards. Why can’t they push the envelope with us against this tyranny instead of just having their heads in the clouds?
These questions began to light an infuriating sense of anger that had my body feeling sick. I was angry and still not able to address and solve this feeling of helplessness. I felt stuck and left out in the middle of the desert with no map on how to get where I needed to go. All I could look to was my siblings and our friends for solace and understanding; we were all in the same boat. And we could not talk to people in school because we were supposed to keep a low profile by our parents.
I took heed to that counsel after hearing discussions at school about what they thought of the terrorist activities that were suppose to threatening national security. We had to keep quiet because if the wrong person caught wind of who we really were then we would compromise everything our parents sacrificed and planned in order to get us to this point. I was not sure I willing to do that even as angry as I was at the moment. But organization was the key in a strategic way. I needed to shake this feeling of helplessness and pulling in people was the way to do it. So tomorrow at school was the beginning of recruitment by paying more attention to my surroundings and seeing what this area had to offer other than a safe haven for my family.
