“YOU DIED ANGRY!”
With what I call “Spiritual Intervention”- my dreams can turn violent real fast. This one, was somewhat of that. Miriam Wattenberg, or as she was known as Mary Berg, decided she’d have her turn to pay me a visit. Now, I knew nothing of what this visit was going to entail, nor did I know she was coming.
What I knew about Mary Berg, is that she had a diary and it was the first Holocaust diary published in the United States (February 1945). She was fine with the diary for a while and then she — went A — Wall- like gone. She was gone for a long time until 1992, when her diary was up for republication and thank God it was. Mary was- from what I’ve heard and I’ve seen (from letters and such) was a bitter, bitter person and somewhat rude. I don’t know what made her that way, but it came to the point where she threw her entire life away, and made a new one. With this, her bitterness ate at her, and was that way till the day she died in 2013.
With this, she knows my feelings about her and I guess she had to take them out on me. I was in a room, but I didn’t recognize where I was- it was like we were on her turf. She knew she had me trapped and she wanted it that way.
“YOU!” I heard a voice scream. A girl who was wearing a long sleeve sweater (or cardigan) and a long skirt, with Mary Jane shoes, glared at me. If looks could kill, she would have already killed me. She ran to me, angrily and when she slammed me against the wall, she started screaming at me. I couldn’t really hear her, blood was falling from her mouth as she screamed. It fell on the floor and then she stopped screaming. I didn’t know how to react. “ARE YOU? YOU!?” She yelled. She raised her hand to slap me, but as her hand came down, I stopped it, with my own hand. I looked at her, and our eyes locked. It almost seemed like my energy was matching hers, in terms of anger. I had enough strength to shove her back.
“GET A GRIP!” She yelled. I didn’t say anything, all I noticed was the blood falling from her mouth. She noticed it finally, and wiped it off. She was still bloody. I didn’t realize that she was so angry that she made herself bleed.
“ANNE FRANK IS ENOUGH! WHY ME?” She yelled. “STOP SCREAMING! Let’s have a decent conversation!” I yelled back. She stormed up to me, and grabbed me by the shoulders, and I grabbed her back. She felt so weighted, like heavy, but real at the same time (I know she was real, but she’s been dead for the past 10 years). Again, our eyes locked, and she just started screaming real loud. She couldn’t stop and some blood flew on my face.
She slammed me against the wall again. “YOU HAVE SO MANY PEOPLE AND YET??? YOU PICK ME??? I AM NO ONE!” She yelled. I tried to shove her back, but she had me pinned.
“YOU ARE BITTER!” I yelled. She moved back and gave me some air.
“WHAT?” She yelled .
“YOU ARE BITTER!!!” I yelled and pushed her back. She looked at me in horror.
“YOU DIED BITTER!” I said. She placed her hands on the sides of her head and started screaming. The blood stopped, but she was loud. I covered my ears.
“YOU! YOU RUINED ME!” She yelled. I looked at her in amazement.
“YOU RUINED YOURSELF!” I yelled. She looked at me and stomped her foot.
“You are kidding yourself if you think I had anything to do with it!” I yelled.
“YOU! YOU DON’T LEARN TO LET ENOUGH ALONE!” She yelled.
“YOUR DIARY-” I tried to yell.
“IT’S GONE! DON’T SPEAK OF MY DIARY! IT’S DEAD!” She yelled.
“Ok Deanna Durbin!” I yelled .She didn’t understand.
“I AM NOT THE CAUSE OF YOUR PAIN!” I yelled.
“YOU ARE RUINING WHAT I HAVE!” Mary yelled.
“WHAT DO YOU HAVE? YOUR BITTERNESS? YOUR ANGER??? YOU DIED WITH THAT ANGER?!” I yelled.
“YOU WANNA KNOW WHY I’M ANGRY???? CAUSE I CAN’T DEAL WITH PEOPLE MILKING THIS! MY STORY? DOESN’T MATTER ANYMORE!” She yelled.
“WHAT THE ACTUAL F*CK? MILKING IT??? WHO THE FRICK DO YOU THINK YOU ARE??? YOU WERE A SURVIVOR AND YOU THREW ALL THAT AWAY FOR SOME GUY WHO SOLD ALL YOUR SHIT!” I yelled. She grabbed my hair, and I told her “You wanna fight? Cause I’ll knock your lights out!” She let go of my hair. “I loved that man,” She said.
“He made you something you weren’t,” I replied.
“What??? What do you know about love or who you are? Just because you wear that star doesn’t mean you’re Jewish!” She yelled.
“Oh we wanna talk about being Jewish now? YOU THREW THAT AWAY!” I said.
“GOD DAMMIT KATIE! YOU NEED TO KNOW I HAD MY REASONS!” She said.
“AND PRAY TELL, WHAT ARE THOSE REASONS?” I yelled. She looked at me , but she couldn’t speak, not at all.
“I-I hated it all! I couldn’t stand reliving my past! I should have never published my diary! It ruined me!” She screamed.
I stood there, trying to figure out if I should feel sorry for her, or try to explain what her diary has done for educators across the world? Then she did something I didn’t expect, she ran to me and hugged me. She was sobbing. I placed my hands around her.
“Mary, please! What are you-” I tried to say.
She continued crying. “I’m not a monster!” She cried.
“I didn’t say you were one,” I replied. “You think I’m a monster!” She cried.
“No,I think you’re bitter, that’s a different story , You didn’t have to be rude to people,” I said.
“Well, I didn’t think about my repercussions. I don’t want to keep living like this!” Mary said.
“You’re dead, you have been for 10 years,” I said. She looked at me- and she didn’t seem to grasp the fact that she was dead.
“Well, what do I do?” She asked. I looked at her in confusion.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“How do I get over my bitterness?” Mary asked.
“You start letting us help you Legacy at least repairing it. Your legacy is kinda non existent right now,” I said. Mary looked at me.
“Do you think I could change?” She asked.
“Yes, I believe you can,” I replied.
She held my hands and said, “I trust you.” I woke up, not angry, not bitter, just looking at the published diary by my bed, knowing my job I had just been assigned.
