Hiding Hole

The dream is disturbing. I'm hiding. There's a sense of urgency. I don't know why. My heart races as the crowded room closes in on me. It smells of coffee grounds, body odor, and fear. I start to hyperventilate. Someone whispers, "Hush, you must..."

I am shaken awake. My wife, Sharon, says, "Daniel, you were flailing and shouting out. Was it the same nightmare?"

I breathe deeply. "I'm afraid so. Sorry if I woke you."

"I'm just concerned about you. You need more sleep."

I glance at the clock. 4:45. I sigh. "I've slept enough. I have an early shift today. I'll go make coffee. You sleep some more." I kiss her forehead.

I zombie-walk my way to the kitchen, still thinking about that room. Where could it be? Why me? Why now? I need to talk with someone about it. The first person who comes to mind is my friend, Aaron. We went through Bar Mitzvah the same year. Aaron went on to become a Rabbi. I work with the FBI. Having a problem-solving mindset, good for my career, means I will not rest until this mystery is debunked.

I call Aaron during my lunchtime. He agrees to meet at our favorite bagel shop after work. Good thing I'm off early today since they close at 5:00.

At Tompkins Square Bagels, I hold out my hand for Aaron to shake. Instead, he pulls me into a hug. He holds me at arm's length, smiles fondly, and says, "Daniel, my friend. It's been too long."

After ordering and some small talk, I finally get to the dream.

He takes time considering what I've shared, and finally says, "I think you need to tell Sharon to stop waking you up. You need to let the dream come to fruition in order to get closure."

I smile and say, "I knew you would have great advice."

That night, Sharon decides to sleep in the guest room. That way, we won't disturb each other, even by accident. I put a notepad by my bed in case I need to write notes.

I'm hyped up, but eventually, I nod off. My dream gets to the point where someone whispers, but continues this time, "Hush, you must calm yourself, Amos." I feel myself breathe. There are footsteps overhead. No one makes a sound. We wait. Finally, a door slams in the distance and there are audible sighs of relief. The same person again whispers, "Amos, you did well."

We wait a bit more, and finally someone opens a trapdoor overhead. We climb into the upper room without turning on any lights. I look back as the trapdoor is closed. It's impossible to see where the opening is, but I note the location.

The man pulls me aside and says, "Amos, your grandmother and I managed to buy your way to America. If you are to survive, you must get out of Poland."

I shake my head, "I don't want to leave you, Grandfather."

"You must. Now, show me the car I carved for you. I want you to keep it with you."

I put my tiny hands in my pockets. Sure enough, there's a small car carved out of wood. He says, "Good. Now, your cousin, Ari, will take you tomorrow. We are too old to make the trip. We will keep you in our prayers."

Tears are stinging my eyes. I'm certain I'll never see them again.

Someone whispers, "Quickly, hide! They're coming back!"

We scramble to get back into the hiding room. We hear sounds from up above again, including some shouting. We stay there the whole night, even after everything is quiet. With no way to empty our waste buckets, it really smells.

My dream jumps in time to early the next morning. My cousin Ari, who is in his late teens, is leading me by the hand. I notice the house number as we leave: 35 Lvivska Street. We slowly make our way in the early morning light, hiding along the way. When Ari presents the tickets, I notice the names are not correct. They're not even Jewish, but we make it onto the ship. When I feel in my pocket, my wooden car is gone. It fell out somewhere along the way. When the steamboat horn sounds, I wake up.

Many questions are answered, and I now know how to find out more.

When Sharon wakes up, I fill her in. She asks, "Do you think this Amos is one of your ancestors?"

"That's what I intend to find out. I'm calling in sick and checking online. Would you like to play hooky today too? You're so great with online searching."

"That sounds like fun, but I'm showing houses and condos today, sorry. A realtor's work is never done."

"That's okay, I knew it was a longshot. I'll figure it out."

I start with ancestry.com. Within an hour, I found one of my great-great grandfathers was named Amos Kramer. He came to America in 1942. After more digging, I discover the house is in Żółkiew, Poland. I text Sharon, I'm going to Poland this weekend. Want to come?

30 minutes later, she texts back, Absolutely! I wouldn't miss it.

Our flight leaves Friday afternoon at 2:00 and arrives three hours later. It's late at night in Poland, so we get settled and have a nice dinner at the hotel restaurant.

Saturday morning, my heart is pounding as we pull up to the house with the hidden room. We are disappointed to see that it is roped off. My phone translates a sign posted at the front. It reads, "Scheduled for demolition" with Monday's date. Other homes have already made way for an impending development. If we had waited, we wouldn't have even seen the house. We decide to risk getting in trouble and jump the ropes.

The front door opens with a push. We put our phones on flashlight mode. I find the place where I saw the trapdoor in my dream. It's still difficult to see, but I kneel and find it, pulling up with my fingertips. I say, "Sharon, hold my phone. I'm jumping in."

"Be careful."

I jump the four feet and land softly on the dirt. Near the far wall, I find the wooden car carved for Amos. I pocket it. There's not much else to see. Getting out turns out to be more difficult as the rungs on the makeshift ladder keep breaking. Sharon gets on her stomach and reaches down to help me out. I am glad she doesn't have to go for help.

Back at the hotel, I take the piece of family history out of my pocket. The bottom of the car has a wooden plug. I take Sharon's nail file in her clippers and pick it out. When I tip it over, a gold disk falls out. It's real gold. This was to help my great-great grandfather get started in the new world. I wondered how he managed without. The next day, even though it is Sunday, I manage to contact someone from the Holocaust Museum in NYC. They have enough pull to have the trapdoor removed and shipped to them before the demolition takes place.

I plan on keeping the wooden car and the gold for my own family to pass down.

Now that I've solved the meaning of my dream, I can rest easy.

Author's notes: Although this is a fictional piece, the trapdoor in the photo above really is from a hiding place and is in the Holocaust Museum in NYC. The name Daniel means Dream interpreter. Amos means Prophetic role.