joie de vivre here only intermittantly
I was before a group of children. It was the 35th year after the Holocaust.
I was there to tell them about my experience during WWII. Immediately I was no longer telling them, but I was there. I was in a POW camp. I was the only one in the women’s section who was American – the rest were a variety of other nationalities. I wasn’t sure if the lingua franca was Polish or Russian. Our job was to care for the camp’s children. In retrospect, I don’t know how a POW camp could have children.
My thoughts about this dream. I took care of major issues around past life trauma but I still have work to do. It imprisons me.
A POW camp is less traumatic to show than a death camp. My brain was just telling me it was an anniversary of the Holocaust to let me know that was what was really going on.