A few nights ago I had a vivid dream which has stayed with me. These are the details.
I am seated with friends at an outside restaurant table. Our table is situated close to the sidewalk, and I am facing the street that runs parallel to the restaurant. There are a lot of people in the restaurant and on the sidewalk. It is early evening, and the atmosphere is very festive. It is like the street has been closed to traffic and converted into a fun and boisterous block party.
A lot of the people are passing out pamphlets or signing up volunteers. There are many political and religious causes on display, but all of them are leftwing in orientation. This is not a place that would be hospitable for conservatives. An organized parade marches down the middle of the street. They look like old hippies from the 60s: Elderly people in tie-dyed T-shirts, jeans, and sandals. They all have long hair and look like they have not bathed since Woodstock. The ringleader is a tall, robust man in a red robe and sandals. His hair is pitch black and erratic like Albert Einstein’s. He screams out slogans through a megaphone, and sometimes walks backwards so as to face the marchers. He pumps his fists and beats his chest. He is a whirlwind of emotion, and though altogether quirky in appearance and demeanor he has a charisma that draws eyes in his direction. I pay attention to him, and forget all about my friends. For all that the big man yells through his megaphone, I only make out one word with clarity: “Maccabees.”