Pat Taub
I’m in a dream where I’m trapped.
I’m running through a long hall, looking for an escape from the perpetual bombings that leveled Gaza and now aim for the same carnage in Lebanon and Iran, where 170 school girls were murdered by US bombs.
For a brief moment the bombs let up, when my attention is diverted to ICE thugs kidnapping my brown-skinned neighbors. On national TV our dystopic leader proclaims, “We will kill anyone, at home or abroad, who disagrees with us.”
I feel dizzy, like I might faint. Seeking relief, I open a window for some fresh air, but the air is dark and cloudy, making it hard to see.
I spot a water fountain that emits polluted water.
I keep running in search of an exit, when I spot a line of doors. Maybe one will be an exit out of my hellscape? My spirits lift when I spot a door marked “Peace.” Expectantly I approach it. But when I arrive, I’m met by a sign that reads, “No entry permitted until further notice.”
Continuing down this hallway of shut doors. I approach a door labeled “Justice.” Like the Peace door, it bears a “Do Not Enter” sign. I continue down this hall, praying for a safe exit.
I approach doors marked, “Free Child Care,” “Caring Communities,” “Affordable Medical Care.” Each one denies entry.
Dejected, I collapse into a lone chair in the hallway. Hope is quickly draining from me. Out of nowhere a magnificent older woman, dressed in white, stands majestically before me. Taking my hand and smiling benevolently, she asks, “How can I help?”
“Lead me to an exit where war, greed and murder are not prevalent. Take me to a world where people are kind and peace loving.”
She takes her time before answering, “I’m afraid those worlds no longer exist except in remote areas of the globe.”
I plead with her, “What am I to do? I can’t bear feeling so defeated and overwhelmed.”
My guide waves her hand and a laptop appears. She opens it to a short film clip, which depicts a small group of adults gathered in an auditorium under a banner that reads, “A Better Tomorrow.”
She instructs me, as she plays the film, “Look closely and tell me what you see?” I describe a small community of women and men, shabbily dressed in a room of run down furniture, respectfully arguing over the rules for their new community.
Confused I ask, “Are they the survivors of the forever wars?”
“Yes, but this is only a projected future, where the world will end up, if action isn’t taken in the present. There are still large numbers who want peace over war, justice over lawlessness and safe neighborhoods. I can’t offer you a ready exit to a better world, only encourage you not to give up. Go and find others who share your beliefs and rebuild while you can.”
I protest, “Easier said than done. Most people I know have checked out or given in to despair.”
My compassionate guide becomes impatient. “The road to peace is never easy. Since when have you been a coward? You are not alone. Your tribe exists, but it won’t come to you.”
“Where is it?” I plead.
“All around you. In women’s peace groups, among the Quakers, among the anti-war contingents, among neighbors organizing to drive out ICE from their communities, among candidates running for office on a peace platform.”
