Time Zones and Dreams; New York City’s Favorite Drink

3:31 AM, October 23, 2023, Brooklyn, NYC, USA, Earth

Ever since I could remember, I’ve been a dreamer, wandering through the labyrinth of time. My strange nature on a good day makes my loved ones smile, although sometimes frustrates them when I am late or forgetful. As every good explorer would say, I enjoy the journey through time’s winding narrow bridges. And I do my best to remember my way back to the present.

Since the war has started, my ability to return to the present time zone hasn’t really adjusted. Seeing as my daily journal is dated a few days ahead of time, I seem to be in a rush. I think I am chasing tomorrow, eager to escape yesterday’s shadowed horrors. The trouble is that tomorrow doesn’t seem much brighter. Maybe I’m just in a hurry to get on with it. Or perhaps I dreamt that we were beyond needing to deal with such evil, in some distant Utopian future. Time has clearly shown me otherwise.

These days, I seem to be a math-matician, hopefully making my physicist grandfather proud. You see, I’m always calculating at least two time zones. My time zone and Israel’s, on the other side of Earth. I’m always keeping track of how much time needs to pass before I can talk with my family again. I need to know how they are doing, and if I am talking with them then I know that they are ok. I need to keep pace with them. Otherwise I am lost, and I might as well not keep track of time at all.

It’s helpful that my therapist is in the same time zone as me these days. One less time zone to keep track of.

I lose track of how many days, or how many weeks have passed since the war started. It feels like a lifetime, and a blink of an eye. Have I entered a new reality all together? No, I think if it was new, we wouldn’t be dealing with these ancient problems. If it was new, we would start over right? We would be in Gan Eden, the first garden, just enjoying watching the water, careless to the passing of time.

I prefer it when time keeps track of me, than vice versa. Someone has to keep track of the other, and time has more experience in this field than I do. I’m only 23 years old for crying out loud. A fact that I can easily forget. I suppose that happens when an old soul, wandering mind, and a young heart are all wrapped up inside, well, me.

Wait, I lost track of my train of thought. Well, That’s what happens when you run the train 24/7! All kidding aside, the work ethic of this city is like no other. It’s both terrifying and motivating, thrilling and off putting, beautiful and horrendous. I’m considering wearing two watches; one set to eastern standard time, and one set to New York City time. The first will tick away as usual, while the second will move twice as fast, helping me keep pace with the sleepless city.

Much like New York City, Tel Aviv and Jerusalem share the commonality of being in distinctly unique time-zones. When I entered these cities it felt like walking through a gateway into a different era; Jerusalem to the past and Tel Aviv to the

future. In the process of adjusting to time-zones, it’s completely normal to lose some sleep. In the haze of the parties, the adventures, the conversations that I wish had no end, and the nights that truly had no end, these dreamy cities must be in a time of their own. People are fueled on something else that keeps them running at such a unique pace. Perhaps it’s the shared collective insomnia that forces dreams to wake up and live in the night. These cities never really sleep, as they say.

New York City is inspiring me with a fresh spirit, to work harder than I ever have. It’s as if the collective dreams that are instilled in the city's fuel are being poured into my ears; inspiring dreams that need to be realized and woken up. The funny thing about dreams is that they never really run out; the most sustainable source of fuel. Every night there’s a new one, ready to be explored. So what happens if I can’t fall asleep?

This inspirational and uniquely dreamy fuel tastes like nitro cold brew coffee, a recent addition to my shopping list. On any given day that must be New York City’s favorite drink. It certainly is effective at keeping me up all night.

All that said, and seemingly never done, I must delve deeper and address the ghosts in the room; of course, I speak of New York’s ancestral charm. As I gaze across the river, tasting the salt of the ocean and the wind that slaps at my face, I think of you, I think of my ancestors. Those who crossed the Atlantic on boat, escaping the flames of the past, holding onto their dream of a better life. They dreamt of the future that would be less harsh and less evil than what they had to endure. I can hear their thick Yiddish accents singing hopeful whispers of dreams that have been stifled and choked for thousands of years, yearning to be awake and to live. Dreams singing that we will flourish beyond those that seek our extinction.

My ancestors carry with them the true source of the underlying embers of determination, flickering like the stars that light up our world. I hear them as they haunt the city streets, singing their songs of hope. And I sing with them. And I cry with them. And I too carry the same dreams that they bring.

These dreams ignite the flickering flames that scribe the map through this world, one narrow bridge to the next, as I walk step by step. With each stride I carry their memories and their unbroken spirit forward into an uncertain future.

When crossing through narrow bridges, remember that the most important thing is to not be afraid.

Their songs sing softly in my ears as I restlessly try and wake up their dreams. כל העולם כולו גשר צר מאוד. והעיקר - לא לפחד כלל. The whole world is like a very narrow bridge, And it’s very important to remember, to not be afraid.