Dream of: 01 November 1995 "No Contingency Plan"
Some friends and I had arrived at a rather desolate area where some Israeli prisoners were going to be released by a Moslem group. One friend with me was himself an Israeli. He was a tall, thin, blond fellow (in his late 20s).
From where we were, we could see a high chain link fence which stretched out of sight in both directions. Understanding that the release of the prisoners was going to take place on the other side of the fence, and that to witness the release, we would have to pass through the fence, I, with my Israeli friend, boarded a large blue van which would take us to the other side of the fence. Except for the driver, my friend and I were alone in the van.
No sooner had the van passed through the fence to the other side, than it stopped to let in more passengers. I could see a group of 30-40 people walking through the fence and then crowding onto the van. They were all Israelis (in their late teens). My friend and I were pushed up against the window at the back of the van and were packed in so tight we could barely move. However we still had the best position because we had a clear view of the area out the back window. I looked out at the field where the release of prisoners was supposed to take place.
However, I was still bothered about being so crowded. At one point I opened up the back door to let in some air, but I couldn't keep the door open because we were about to fall out. At another point I decided to put my billfold in my front pants pocket because I thought there was less chance that a pickpocket could take it out of the front pocket. But when I reached back to pull out my billfold, it wasn't in my back pocket. I gasped to my friend that someone had stolen my billfold. But then I was greatly relieved to feel that my billfold was already in my front pocket. I had apparently moved it to the front pocket earlier and then forgotten.
From where we were, I could see to the other side of the fence not far from us. There, under a tree, sat a silver mobile trailer home, the kind you often see out on the road. It looked as if it had been left there in storage and that no one was using it now. It looked peaceful back there on the safe side of the fence.
As we waited, I began wondering why so many young people had come to witness the release of prisoners. I thought the teenagers must know who some of the prisoners were. However, it seemed clearly dangerous for them all to be in the van. The van would make a good target for a bomb. Someone might even have already planted a bomb under the van. Or someone might begin shooting at the van. I realized if shooting did start, I was in a rather precarious position next to the window. I would be directly in the line of fire. Sensing danger, I called up to the driver, asking him if there was a contingency plan if firing should start. But I was afraid I already knew the answer: that there was no contingency plan.
Yet I wasn't particularly concerned, and I managed to maintain a rather stoic state of mind. If I died, I died. However, I was concerned that if I were killed, no one would know I was there, and that no one would tell my parents. But then I remembered that I had left some friends on the other side of the fence, and that they would know if I were killed. I could still see one of my friends on the other side. He was a tall bearded man (probably in his mid 40s). He reminded me of Nickolai, a Romanian whom I befriended while he was studying at The Ohio State University in the mid 1970s. Yes, my friends would tell my parents if I were killed.
Yet how uncharacteristic it seemed to me to find myself in a political situation, especially such a dangerous one.
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