10.02.2007
My birthday is a Jewish holiday so the gospel choir from college filters into my two-level ranch apartment. Someone brought sweet potato kugel. I kiss a skinny girl because no one is looking and I'm lonely. Out on the street there is a siege: three white police SUVs are stopping a dozen black girls on the corner with a galaxy of red white and blue flashers. But the cops are black women too and they're trading jokes I don't understand. Back at the house the choir is in full song. When the skinny girl smiles at me I look away. Around the corner at the bar I meet a man in a velcro vest who says he is the editorial director of a magazine called Tikkun. Thinking that means "repentance" not "repair" I ask him if he can help me.
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A first attempt at interpretation. It's clear this dream filters a number of recent experiences through the ideas in Rodger Kamenetz's new book, The History of Last Night's Dream, which I've been reading. I spent some time on the train this morning feeling through the scene at the end, when, after feeling somewhat ashamed after impulsively kissing a girl I didn't really like when I should have been observing a religious day, I approach a man a little older than myself and ask him for t'shuvah (repentance, literally "turning") when all he has is tikkun (healing, literally "repair"). There's a lot to consider there.
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