Nightmares Near and Far
a rant begging you to learn that ICE, Trump, Israel, war, capital are all connected
Home is where the heart begins, but not where the heart stays. The heart scatters across states, and has nothing left after what home takes from it. -Hanif Abdurraqib, They Can’t Kill Us Until They Kill Us
I have nightmares almost every night. Sometimes something awful happens like a kid I knew in high school falls to his death off a balcony and no one bats an eye. Other times buildings are being bombed and I’m running, hiding, pulling people out of collapsing infrastructure. Some nightmares are so awful I don’t feel comfortable subjecting you to them, even if they’re just words. I’m talking horrifying scenes that the American Mind may have once labelled dystopian, the ones Octavia Butler so brilliantly described back in the 90s when she warned us they’d want to “make america great again”1 by any means necessary. But usually, in my nightmares, the horror is imminent. An impending doom that is sure to bring great terror and pain because it is has already brought great terror and pain somewhere nearby— not that distance matters much in dreams. I’d argue it doesn’t matter much in reality either. As you may be aware, these “dystopian” scenes are becoming the American reality. Now the violence is not only being inflicted out of sight 5,000 miles away from the American Mind, but right in front of it, upon its own citizens, neighbors, family members, friends, elected officials. Yesterday, ICE arrested Brad Lander, elected NYC Comptroller, leading mayoral candidate, and US-born citizen, without a warrant… for being at work.
My Facebook timeline is full of Trump supporters— that’s the kind of place I grew up in. But I’m beginning to see confusion and critique amongst some of them, specifically those who have served in the military. A former marine (younger than me) wonders why marines— who are not trained in deescalation— are being deployed upon protesters for exercising a constitutional “right” and I use quotes here because Americans do not really have rights anymore— especially if you’re a woman and especially if you’re not white. As Israel airstrikes Iran, someone I went to high school with repping a cover photo of an American flag and a bald eagle urges us to withhold American involvement, to learn from the mistakes of the last time the same narrative was used to start unnecessary wars in Iraq and Afghanistan. Which begs the question— do y’all not know that the US is already involved?? Do y’all not know that the US and Israel exchange training and tactics to militarize our police force/ICE and violently suppress civilians and protestors? Do y’all not know that Israel is striking Iran with American-made aircrafts? Do y’all not know that even more American ships and planes are sitting in Israel ready to use for attacks? Do y’all not know that there are two American air defense systems (THAAD) operated by US troops on the ground in Israel? Do y’all not know this decades old story yet?
Sure, it’s jarring to get on Facebook and see people you know throwing Great American Wedding Parties, gleefully repping glorified rapist President Trump to thematically celebrate a milestone in their lives, but they’re easier to ignore. It’s actually gut wrenching to see people I grew up with, who have probably experienced their own version of trauma from our military industrial complex, earnestly post a Facebook status wondering What’s Going On. Sorry to put it so plainly but it’s 2025 and we know what’s going on! War is profitable!! Follow the money, babes!! The US is heavily invested in their own economic interests above ALL else and that includes American lives. Our world of late-stage capitalism (or whatever we’re calling it now) is run by… wait for it… people obsessed with profit! I really don’t need to elaborate here, I think most of my readers understand this, but does the average American? If my Facebook is any indication, which I hope it’s not but fear it is, then the answer is no.
I am not afraid of a city [or country] on fire. We were in the NYC streets all summer for the BLM uprisings, the year that covid and the cops relentlessly raged on. That November, my Brooklyn apartment literally caught on fire the night before the 2020 election. We lost pretty much everything. I had an uncanny nightmare the week prior. I dreamt of people in suits, briefcases, bags of money, and receding hairlines scurrying up to the tops of floating ladders that were engulfed in flames at the bottom. I was lying on a vast network of tree roots below wondering where these people were trying to go and what they planned to do when they arrived at the top of a ladder that was already on fire. The apartment fire wasn’t the first time I’d been cleansed of most of my personal possessions and it probably won’t be the last. My brother got second and third degree burns on his entire face and hands. He asked me what to do. I told him to grab his cash and get out. I managed to get everyone else out of the building. I called the fire department (wow i’m a hero). I stood on the sidewalk with my brother and dozens of the orthodox jews on our block and watched as our Brooklyn row house went up in flames, but I am not afraid of fire. I am full of fire.
Yet here I am, a whole ocean away from the fire. I’m an immigrant in a country that feels extremely safe in comparison to the one I’m from. I can walk home alone late at night completely unbothered. Hell, how about the fact that I can walk home at all! I can be on a crowded metro and not worry that someone is going to pull out a gun. I can go to the hospital without going bankrupt. I work in a school that has no need for metal detectors or active shooter drills. And I am not being hunted down by undercover agents on the streets here in Spain. I’ve narrowly escaped two Trump presidencies at this point, though I’m well aware of the violence of a Democratic American Empire as well. I wouldn’t consider myself a fearful person, but my survival instincts are strong. I have a 6th sense for danger (call it trauma idc!!) and will fight or flight accordingly. Usually I choose flight. It’s easier, I guess, but the funny thing is, preemptively positioning myself away from the danger doesn’t make me feel any better. It actually makes me feel more anxious. When fighting, action replaces much of my anxiety, though I wonder how beneficial it truly is. What I’m trying to say is— can you fight fire with fire?
In my nightmares, the stress of having to perfectly time my departure is overwhelming but crucial. I am left either waiting on someone specific to join me before I can leave or I’m running around hoping some folks will listen to my prescience of the impending doom, to little or no avail. I’ve never quite figured out why I am seemingly the only person who knows (or cares?) of the forthcoming horrors. The dreams are typically full of people I know, even if I haven’t spoken to them in over 15 years. Whatever is coming is going to be horrible and I either wake in the thick of it or escape just in time without knowing where I am headed next. Any Jungian scholars have anything to say about this? I’d say the cause is obvious, but my role is not. I am desperately searching for my role.
This year, I taught very young children and what I learned is that they test. Everything is a testing ground for these brains operating in way that we would have to take acid to experience. They are open and learning from everything every second. They’re gathering information, they’re pushing boundaries to see what works, what gets attention, what doesn’t fly, etc etc etc. This is how I see the political landscape of our times— they want to see what they can get away with. That is why folks have been saying that Palestine is a moral litmus test for decades. When a few people aim to extract everything they can from the world, it means that most people will be left without enough. American society has always praised this type of behavior. Sometimes I think we’ve hit critical mass and recognize that this is way of living is unsustainable. Other times I log on to Facebook and sigh.
Where I live there’s no forest to walk barefoot in so to re-center I have to re-focus. Tend to the garden in your own backyard type thing, and quite literally, I should add. The fight to block developers from destroying the last remaining forest in the community I grew up continues. However, I’ve put an ocean between us and now the best fighting I can do is sending some strongly worded emails. Or hyping my brother up, hoping he can rally his friends for this NYC mayoral election, god help us. It’s easy to get apathetic and disillusioned with it all, but there really are so many little things worth fighting for right now. When discussing the newest developments to save the forest, my 84-year-old grandmother tells me how much it lifts her spirits to show up for this cause. She sends me pictures of the three types of mushrooms growing in our yard. She walks door-to-door around the neighborhood she’s lived in for over 50 years to deliver flyers and chat and make sure her neighbors haven’t given up hope, so how on Earth could I?
The most poignant thing about my nightmares is the repetition. The players and settings may change but the feeling is consistent. I wake up and am relieved for a moment, until I look at a screen to see the newest daily horror of our reality. We know the playbook, history repeats itself, but how do we get off this Carousel of Hell? Twelve hours ago, a girl I went to high school with, whose dad coached me in softball, posted:
Whether you like him or not, whether he’s bought by Israel or not; our president is in the biggest rock and a hard place in decades. A lot of people are real quiet on here, but as a country, and if you pray, I hope you put your political opinion down and pick up your cross to pray for the world and this administration. ❤️❤️❤️
and I’m glad I don’t have to try and conclude this rant because James Baldwin has already done it for me.
here are some other newsletters you can check out:
The Road to Hell Is Paved with ICE by Shelby Lorman
Birthright by Fariha Róisín
THE TAOIST POSTER'S MANIFESTO by Gabi Abrão
Against "Women's Art" by Eliza McLamb
Riotsville, USA was the original Cop City by Me because evergreen relevance
other articles worth reading:
Andrew Cuomo Is Worse Than You Even Know (Please, NYers show out for Zohran Mamdani ! Early voting has begun! and DO NOT RANK CUOMO AT ALL)
Birthright Is Booming This Year. Here’s How the Israeli Propaganda Trip Works.
Octavia Butler’s Parable of the Sower + Parable of the Talents. I will never stop talking about Butler. 🕊️