The Terrible Dream

“Achi, I had that dream again”, Yossi said, using the common term of endearment to address his friend.

“Again? Are you serious?”, asked an incredulous Amal, “That’s what, the 5th, 6th time already? What do you think it means?”

“I don’t know, achi”, he said, “But I’m glad it was just a dream.”

Only, this was no dream. At least, not in the traditional sense.

This was a glimpse. A gaze. A peek across the veil.?

A look into a parallel world, one where Yossi and Amal weren’t best friends, but rather, enemies with bullets trained on one another.

Enemies whose families had competing narratives over who had rightful, ancestral ownership over this tiny sliver of land they both called home.?

Narratives worth killing for. Narratives worth dying for.

In the world in which Yossi and Amal grew up, they were Levantine cousins, descendants of Isaac and Ishmael, with a shared destiny to cultivate this sun-soaked piece of land that had been so coveted by so many.?

With the defeat and elimination of the bulk of the British army at Dunkirk in 1940, the crown sued for peace with Hitler. And in exchange for a promise to leave their rule intact over their own island, the British agreed to surrender the territories of their empire; including the land on which Yossi and Amal’s ancestors lived and worked.?

Hitler had plans for this piece of land, and particularly for the people in it.?

Extermination for the Jews, and slavery for the Arabs.?

One ‘troublesome’ population who would be eliminated once and for all, and another who would be a useful source of free labor to build the empire’s Eastern flank and expand its rule into Africa and Asia.

Whatever squabbles Yossi and Amal’s grandparents may have had amongst themselves suddenly paled in comparison to the grisly fait which imminently awaited them both.

But it was against the backdrop of this invasion that both families, immediate and extended, were able to finally see each other in a way no other catalyst could have possibly triggered.

Yossi’s ancestors understood the trauma that had haunted Amal’s through the ages. The trauma of subjugation, conquest and humiliation. Of never being a sovereign people in their own land. Of being toyed with, stepped on and relegated to inferior status by one empire after the next. Of having their homes and groves stolen and appropriated as the rulers of the day saw fit.?

And now, the next empire was set to arrive to reinforce the worst of these fears.

Amal’s family likewise understood the trauma that haunted Yossi’s through the ages. The trauma of abuse, hatred and being made the target of rampaging, barbaric, unrestrained attack. Of being chased from every home they ever knew. Of being blamed for everyone else’s problems. Of being told that their very existence itself was a pox upon the planet that only a violent cleansing could cure.

And now, the next empire was set to arrive to reinforce the worst of these fears.

It was in this moment that both families understood that to heal the trauma of one was to heal the trauma of all.?

Indeed, this moment in history had brought them together specifically for this quantum leap into the possible.

Yossi’s grandfather looked Amal’s grandfather in the eye on the eve of the invasion, and with conviction in his heart, said, “I pledge to you, Abu Awad, that I will stand shoulder to shoulder with you. And you shall never know subjugation as long as I live and breathe. If they’re coming for you, then they’ll have to go through us first. No one will ever rule over you again. From this day forward, your dignity in this land is our blood oath to you.”

Amal’s grandfather returned the gaze, and with equal conviction in his own heart, said, “I pledge to you, Avi Ben-Yehuda, that I too will stand shoulder to shoulder with you. And you shall never know fear as long as I live and breathe. If they’re coming for you, they’ll have to go through us first. No one shall ever raise a hand in violence towards you again. From this day forward, your security in this land is our blood oath to you.”

With these pledges, they formed the seedlings of the Levantine brigade, a resistance group comprised equally of Jews and Arabs who would hold the line and prevent the Nazi conquest of the Eastern Mediterranean.?

Collaborators were exposed and brought to justice. This rag-tag group of rebels worked together and fought off an empire that was once thought invincible. And in the process, they created a new society. One born from the ashes of thousands of years of pain. A society built not on grudging tolerance, but of love. A deep love for one another.?

A love born on the battlefield that would blossom in the roots of its society.

A love that broke bread in its temples and mosques and churches, in its schools and sports teams, in its offices and fields.?

A love born upon the blood oath taken by Abu Awad and Avi Ben-Yehuda, blood oaths that were woven into the very constitution and national character of this land.?

A land that would inspire others around the world to likewise stand against the Nazi menace. To put aside their own differences and use the contrast of this rampaging goliath to understand what truly mattered in this world. And to dive headfirst into the realm of the possible themselves.?

For the first time in over two millennia, the children of Isaac would know peace, and the children of Ishmael would know dignity. Each standing on these pillars with the love and support of the other.?Each understanding that the healing of the other was the key to unlock the healing of one's self.

“I’m glad it was only a dream too”, said Amal to his friend, still clearly shaken, “Could you even imagine?”

“I couldn’t”, said Yossi, “And I wouldn’t want to.”

With that, both men clinked their coffee cups as they watched the sunset over the beach, and looked upon their children playing together in its sands.

It was another beautiful evening.

Another beautiful evening in Gaza.

_______________________