Monday, March 03, 2008

Deflated toe.

My dreams have been lively as ever. From a clan of Jewish High Priests in ancient hills clad from head to toe in armor, to Torah scholars and bleeding hands.
Clear, blue flowing water is everywhere as of late and my body has found the ability to fly on top of buildings, sweep down into the streets, arms are wide open, wind blowing in my face. You know, the works. All of these dreams are liberating. And I am certain a large amount change far greater than a mango revolution is about to happen.
I have a good habit of taking mental notes. I note situations and the small details around them so I don't get so confused. 3 weeks ago, when I scheduled my immigration with the woman behind a desk in the bureaucratic abyss known as the Ministry of Interior, I remember thinking:
a. ok, so it's not a full month later.
b. and Saying: "Do you think my file will be ready by the 3rd of March?
c. noting that it was yet another Monday appt like the current one.
d. typing in my appt immediately in my cell phone
You can understand my surprise & disappointment when I pulled out the appt slip to see the 9th of March clearly written on the slip. This means:
1. I made a big mistake
2. lady behind the desk made a mistake
3. I was supposed to go in on March 3 but she made an extra appointment in case my papers weren't ready.
Either way, my attempts to reach the Ministry of Interior in the last 1.5 days have been futile. The telephone has been relentlessly busy. From morning until their special 3p.m closing time.
I'm on level three of deflation. Trying to pump myself up for another week of waiting.


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