by Guy Rosmarin
Chapter 7
Andy picked up a pricey Cabernet on the way back to his apartment. As he watched the bottle being wrapped, he resolved to get ready for the evening the minute he got home. Five hours later, he was sitting by his desk in his starched white shirt and cotton slacks, slowly digesting every pixelated word. Naturally, he did not hear the doorbell. Only when the rings turned to hard knocks and then to hammering bangs, he snapped out of his hypnotic trance and jumped out of his chair.
“Coming,” he cried, rushing to the door.
“Were you going to keep me here all night?” Nate barked with no trace of his usual humor.
“I’ m so sorry, it’s just that...”
Nate’s anger subdued when he noticed Andy’s pale skin. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” he said.
“I’m fine. Really, it’s just that...well, that’s actually what I’ve been meaning to talk to you about…”
“So let’s get on with the program, then,” Nate cut him short, holding the front door wide open. Andy grabbed his jacket and took another minute to find the wine bottle. “Now, Pal! We’re running late!”
“I can’t believe this traffic. Jan’s going to kill me,” Nate muttered when they merged onto the busy highway. “We may as well get started with some-one-on one. It’s going to be awhile.”
Andy leaned back, closed his eyes and gave a detailed account of his trip and the mysterious encounter with the old Nazi fugitive.
“So, this is what you had to tell me?” Nate broke the short silence that followed.
Andy could sense the indifference in his voice. “Don’t you think it’s a little strange that a man I have never met acts like he’s known me for decades?”
Nate bit his lower lip. “You said he was about what…ninety?” Andy nodded. “You must have reminded him of someone, he had a weak heart, and collapsed. These sorts of things do happen.”
“You sound a little disappointed.”
“To be perfectly honest, I was expecting something more…dramatic.”
“But, that’s not all.”
“You mean there’s more?”
“Oh, I haven’t even started.”
“So what are you waiting for? We’re almost halfway there.”
“What I really wanted to talk to you about is the dream I had last night.”
“You—had a dream? Now we’re getting somewhere.” Nate broke his first smile. “Do you remember any of it?”
“Every bit of it. Like I lived it.”
“What was it about?”
“What?” Andy raised his brow, as if the question had just awoken him. “Oh, the dream, it was about the war.”
“Of course,” Nate nodded.
“There was this darkness…and stone cold silence. I couldn’t see or hear anything, but I was fully conscious of this nothingness, like I was separated from my body and cut out of time. I’ve never experienced anything like it before…. I take that back,” he opened his eyes and turned to Nate, “I actually have. Last Tuesday, right before I dismissed my class, that was the first time. I wanted to tell you about it at Pat’s, but...well, I guess I didn’t think it was that important at the time.”
“You mean you dozed off in class?”
“No. It was more like a blackout. I checked the time on my wristwatch, and the next thing I know, I’m floating in complete darkness for what seemed like hours. I thought I had a seizure. Worse, I thought I was dead. Then I saw the light. Far and faint, at first, but it quickly got brighter, and it sucked me right into it, very fast. And when I finally got there, I was back in the classroom staring at my watch. It was the exact same time it was before the whole thing started. You get it?” Andy turned his eyes back to Nate. “All that time, time just stood still.”
Nate nodded, keeping his eyes on the road.
“Last night was the same. The only difference was when I got back my senses, I was in a battlefield under a barrage of Nazi mortars with a group of Czech resistance fighters, and everything seemed so real.”
Nate abruptly turned his bewildered eyes to Andy and kept staring for a second too long.
“Watch out!” Andy hollered. Nate slammed his foot on the brakes. The tires screeched and the car stopped a few inches short of collision. He let out a sigh of relief, but Andy’s upper lip twitched with half a smile. I finally have your attention, he thought, and then leaned back in his seat with his hands crossed behind his head and continued pouring out the details of his two-part dream.
“Very impressive,” Nate said. “When patients talk about dreams, I usually get snippets of fading memories. I don’t ever get to hear the complete story…in such fine detail. But before we get to the bottom of this, I’ve got to tell you one thing and I want to make sure you understand me.”
Andy nodded.
“It was just a dream,” Nate said.
Andy twitched his lips with a cynical sigh and shook his head. “I don’t know, Nate….it was just…too real.”
“Don’t get me wrong. This is very unusual, and we have a long road ahead, but with that said, what you’ve just described contains all the classic elements of a dream, which tells a lot about your psychological state.”
Andy raised a skeptical brow. “What does this have to do with my psychological state?”
“You’d be surprised.”
“Surprise me!”
“First, you must understand that a dream is a reflection of your reality. Everything you sense and experience represents an event that occurred at some point within the course of your life. In most cases, you’d get a subconscious reflection of a recent experience, but sometimes your mind may pull a lost memory from early childhood, even infancy. According to traditional studies, recurring supernatural phenomena in a dream symbolize distinct behavioral patterns in reality. Although it may appear like you have experienced something very realistic, your actions and experiences are directly related to your state of mind and may expose certain vulnerabilities in your psyche.” Nate shot another quick glance at Andy to make sure he was still with him. “I’ll give you a perfect example.”
“If you must, doc,” Andy said.
“Being naked in public.”
“Huh?”
“Now, that’s a classic. I get that from patients all the time. In the majority of the cases, it reflects a real sense of embarrassment and frustration for being transparent in real life; in other words, a fear that people can see straight through you with all your weaknesses exposed.”
“Is that what you really think, that I’m worried about people seeing through my weaknesses?”
“That’s what we’re going to try to find out.”
Andy lingered on the thought before giving his reply. “So what exactly am I embarrassed of?”
“Well, one possible answer could be your inability to complete your project.”
“Oh, come on Nate. You know and I know I have nothing to be embarrassed about.”
“Maybe that’s what you’re trying to force yourself to believe on the surface, but deep down, your true feelings may tell a different story. I’ll give you another example,” Nate continued before Andy had a chance to rebut. “You had the “heavy feet while trying to escape” syndrome.”
“Now you’re turning this into a syndrome?”
“You’d be surprised, but it’s very common, and it usually means lack of confidence...”
“Wait,” Andy cut in. “Before we continue to delve into Freudian technicalities, let me just say that I haven’t told you everything.”
“Are you withholding information from me?” Nate frowned.
“No,” Andy said, “you never gave me a chance to finish.”
“Well, forgive me. Please don’t let me hold you back.”
“So when I swung by the office this morning, I looked up the name of the Czech lieute
nant I met in my dream.”
“How did you know his name?”
“He was kind enough to introduce himself right before the trench was shelled. I even wrote his name down, though I didn’t really need to—how could you ever forget a name like Ivan Gresko.”
“So what’d you find?”
“Are you ready for this, Sigmund?”
“Couldn’t be readier.”
“According to the Daily Telegraph, Lieutenant Ivan Gresko was killed in a firefight with German troops in occupied Czechoslovakia on the morning of April 7th, 1941.”
Nate broke the short silence that followed “That’s today’s date sixty years ago,” he said.
“Damn straight it is! Now, what would Mr. Freud have to say about that?”
“Well, if you think about it, there is always a reasonable explanation.”
Andy shook his head.
“In all my years of listening to patients talk about their dreams, I’ve heard some weird stories, and I gotta hand it to you buddy, yours is up there. But it’s not completely unfounded. You see, the brain is a machine that continuously records and processes information, like a very powerful computer. Sensations, experiences, emotions, practically everything that goes through the box is constantly being recorded. Yet, only a tiny fraction of it surfaces in our consciousness.”
“Where exactly is this lecture heading?”
“Like I have suspected, you already know all of that, so I’ll get straight to the point: The way I see it, through all those years you’ve spent on research, you must have come across this particular piece of information one way or another.”
“I would have remembered if I did.”
“Not necessarily. You see, even if you just skim through text without actually reading it, your brain still picks it up and store it in your subconscious. And the way your brain works, it’ll be safe to assume that this evidence has accurately resurfaced in your dream.”
“You have an answer for everything, don’t you?”
“I’d love to continue this and give you a chance to prove me wrong. This could definitely turn into a great debate, or a very interesting case study.”
“I assure you, you haven’t heard the last of it.”
“We’re almost there,” Nate said, as he merged off the main road. “Do me one favor though, don’t mention any of this during the evening.”
“Why would I want to talk about my dreams and weaknesses with people I hardly know?”
“I’m just saying that because Jan’s grandmother is a Holocaust survivor and she’s very sensitive to the subject.”
Chapter 8
“Gentlemen.” A woman in her late fifties in a long black dress and a satin shawl draped over her shoulders greeted them at the door with a welcoming smile.
“Happy Passover, Rachel,” Nate said, and leaned over to kiss her.
“And you must be Andy. We heard so much about you. It’s so nice to finally meet you.”
“The pleasure is all mine, Mrs. Gold.”
“Oh please, it’s Rachel.” She broadened her smile and turned back to Nate. “You never said anything about your friend being such a handsome, charming gentleman.
“I did say you were in for a big surprise.”
Rachel took away their jackets. “The boys are here!” she cried.
Janet was first to arrive. Her silky, long brown hair neatly stretched down over a beige suede dress embroidered with flowers of yellow and red. “You’re late,” she grumbled at Nate.
“Babe, you know what traffic is like coming from town at this hour?” Nate glanced at Andy. “Ask Spence, if you don’t believe me.”
Andy smiled and leaned to kiss her. “We couldn’t have picked a worse time to cross town. In fact, if we had left five minutes later, I bet we would have made it here sooner.”
“You can tell your friend that being stuck in slow traffic doesn’t necessarily mean you can’t answer your cell phone,” Janet whispered in his ear.
“Hello boys.” The voice freed Andy from the burden of discomfort. He smiled at Janet and turned to her sister.
“Sarah,” Andy said, leaning to kiss her, but she was quicker to embrace him with a cordial hug. She was a slightly younger version of Janet, the same deep brown eyes and dark straight hair, in a starched white blouse and knee-length navy blue skirt. Her soft skin and the sweet scent of her perfume triggered a feeling of comfort and warmth deep inside him. He closed his eyes for a moment, sensing her heart beating against his chest. In another time and another place, this could actually work, he thought.
“I’m still waiting to see you in one of my concerts,” Sara said, as the pack drifted slowly towards the living room.
“If I had a penny for all the nights I almost made it, I’d be a rich man. But every time you perform, I’m either away or busy on some…”
“I don’t want to hear excuses, Andy. We have one coming soon and you’d better be there.” She gave him a wink and fixated her eyes on the bottle in his hand. “You shouldn’t have.” She reached for it. “I’ll take it to Grandma.”
Andy inhaled the sweet fragrances that filled the air as he followed Nate to the dining room. A short gray-haired woman walked in from the kitchen with slow, calculated steps and a gigantic aluminum pot in her hands. A white apron covered her velvet dress, her thin hair was bundled in a roll behind her head, and her dark hazel eyes shone on her wrinkled face.
“For goodness sake, Mamaleh…are you out of your mind?” Rachel rushed to her side. Nate immediately followed and helped her grab the pot from the old woman’s hands.
“That’s really heavy, Grandma,” Nate said, with a tint of admiration in his voice as he placed the pot on the dining table.
“I have carried kneidlach soup pots on the eve of every Pesach for seventy five years. I will drop dead the day I’ll stop doing it.”
Rachel sighed. “Oh Mamaleh, if you’ll keep it up, that day can’t be so far.”
“Oy vey, my Rochaleh wants to get rid of her mamaleh now?” Grandma whimpered. “I got news for you meydalleh, I’m not going anywhere. Not until I see my angel.”
“What’s got into her?” Janet whispered to her sister as the two walked in from the kitchen with small serving plates. Sarah shrugged. She finished helping her sister set the dining table and took a seat next to Andy.
“How do you like the family fun so far?” she whispered. Andy smiled.
“Our little Surreh has a new fellow now?” Grandma grabbed Rachel’s arm, glancing at the two.
“That’s Andy. He’s Nathaniel’s friend.”
“Is he Jewish?” The loud whisper triggered a wave of laughter. “Oy vey, my Surreh’ is going to marry a goy.”
“Mamaleh!” Rachel cried.
Sarah grabbed Andy’s hand and pulled him over to the other end of the table. “Grandma, this is Andy Spencer. He is Nate’s old friend from college and a friend of the family. He brought the wine.”
“Thank you, young man. You’re too kind!” Grandma avoided Andy’s hand as she looked for her glasses. “So, my Suraleh finally found herself a fellow.”
“Oh Grandma, don’t be silly. We are not together.” The words scattered the foul cloud that hovered over Grandma and her face instantly brightened.
“I’m that beautiful girl’s grandmother,” she stretched her arm across and accepted Andy’s second offering, “but you can call me Grandma. And I should thank you for the wonderful wine bottle. Of course, it was not necessary.”
“Not at all. It’s my pleasure…Grandma.”
“The pleasure is mine,” she said, her eyes transfixed on his face, as if captivated by his eyes, or his voice. She kept a firm clasp, refusing to let go of his hand.
“Andy is a history professor at Harvard,” Rachel added, gently releasing Grandma’s tight grip.
“Har-va
rd?” Grandma pronounced slowly, with a long pause between the two syllables and sat down with a frozen gaze.
“Jaaack…the boys are here. We better get started.” Rachel cried. A minute later a heavyset middle-aged man walked into the dining room with a thick cigar in his right hand.
“How are you, Jack?” Nate embraced his future father-in-law with a manly hug. “You remember my friend Andy?”
“Of-course I do.” Jack put the cigar in his mouth and clasped Andy’s hand with an iron grip.
“Mr. Gold,” Andy tried his best not to squeal.
“Only my clients call me Mr. Gold,” Jack turned to Nate with a roaring laughter then panned his gaze to the TV set that was still on in the den. “You a Red Sox fan, Andy?”
“I don’t really have much time to follow sports these days.”
“There’s not much to follow. Looks like another losing season.” Jack made his way to the seat at the head of the table. “Shall we begin?” His deep voice rumbled, seizing everyone’s attention. He put a big white yarmulke on his head, filled his glass with red wine, and raised it up in the air. Rachel followed by filling the rest of the glasses, including one silver cup that was set at the center of the table.
“That one’s for the prophet Elijah,” Nate whispered as he pulled two blue yarmulkes from his pocket, handing one to Andy.
“We are gathered here once again on the eve of this Passover to commemorate our ancestors’ passage from slavery to freedom,” Jack said before commencing with the ceremonial reading of the Haggadah.
Andy was no stranger to the Passover theme. Yet, even with all his extensive theoretical knowledge of Jewish heritage and tradition, he never had the pleasure of participating in an actual Seder, where the story of the great exodus was immersed in authentic flavors and fragrances and everyone partook in its telling. When it was his turn to read, he read the Talmud text with fluent and clear pronunciation that left the entire table dumbstruck.
