While making myself breakfast at my parent’s house this morning, my father said to me, ” You won’t believe the dream I had. ” So, of course, I asked what the dream was about. He said he dreamed he was sitting in Hitler’s house and schmoozing with him.

That would be a strange dream for anyone to have, made stranger still by the fact that we are Jewish. I suppose that with all that is going on in the world with today’s neo-Nazis, and all the shows my father watches on the history channel, it wouldn’t be a stretch to see how his subconscious could come up with a dream like that.

Unlike too many others, our family was lucky. As far as I know, none of our family was ever in the concentration camps. But, being Jewish, we all grow up learning about the Holocaust, and for most of us, it is never far from our minds.

I didn’t ask my father what was said in this dream of his. I can’t even begin to imagine how the conversation went. I’m not sure I’d even want to know.
There are plenty of people I’d like to converse with, if only in a dream. Adolf Hitler is not one of them. Nor would he ever be.