I had a bad dream that went on for a long time this morning.
As a journalist I had made a phone call some months ago to a Michigan university’s Jewish organization and by misrepresenting myself or failing to represent myself fully I had wangled from the person who answered the call another number, a private phone number, for some global Jewish organization called Dror something that I was looking into. And now, months later, I was being investigated by authorities for my misrepresentation. The Michigan state police were interviewing me. I was going to have to fly out to Lansing. I might be indicted. There might be a recording of the phone call– which I had long forgotten– that exposed my criminal conduct with a public agency. I was in agony, and still there was a flicker of awareness inside the dream that it was bullshit, that this was unfair to me, and the relief came and went, between the large waves of guilt. Then when I got up I realized I was free. I indict myself for small things, I’m holding myself back. And then I compare my puny little infraction and how it weighed on me to Assange’s river of information-liberation. He is a free man.
