A Libyan Adventure

This might be one of the longest dreams I've ever had.

I've agreed to go as a Student Missionary to Libya. (Which, in retrospect, sounds suicidal.) I get there, and go to my post, which happens to be an Israeli embassy. My job there is to simply be an office worker. (If you're wondering why a: Israel has an embassy in Libya, or b: why working at an embassy counts as SMing, then you're not alone. Dreams are odd that way.)

So I'm at this embassy, which resembles a small house or office. Think the size of a convenience store at a strip mall. There's a window that looks to the front, and the door is to the side of the window, at a right angle to the window. After the front office, there's a passageway into the back of the building, where more secure documents, a kitchen, and a closet is kept.

All day long, Jewish people come in, looking to immigrate to the homeland. The reasons given are generally to escape persecution. When they come in, they're given shelter while the ambassador runs a check on them to see if they're really Jewish or not. Usually there's a line of three or four people waiting to be checked. They sit in the front of the office, in chairs that remind me of waiting for a dentist or a doctor.

Every now and then, odd incidents happen outside. As I look outside, I see a bunch of people stoning a woman. I'm not sure what it was she did. Most of the stones are missing her, as she is running, but she's definitely getting hit by some of them, and these aren't pebbles she's getting hit by: they're about softball sized.

She eventually makes her way to the office, under a hailstorm of rocks, where we grant her amnesty. We discover she's a Jew and get her the attention she needs. The crowd has left her alone a little ways before she makes it to the office, so the office isn't under any threat.

Later, a protest crowd builds in front of the office/embassy. A group of Christians, presumably flown from America or otherwise American ex-pats, are protesting Israel's actions in Palestine. They're dressed similar to members of the Ku Klux Klan, except some of them aren't wearing hoods. Being in Libya and all, they apparently have little fear of being found out. A few of them try to break into the office. After a couple grabs the door, I wrench it back and lock it, as the protesters are approaching riot level. Thankfully, the glass in the door and window is apparently unbreakable. We dim the lights in the front and evacuate into the back, where the ambassador calls for police to break up the crowd.

Except I don't make it into the back, because one of my glasses lens pops out. I get on my hands and knees and try to find the screw, which is found easily. As I try to put the screw in, the other lens pops out, and I have to find that screw as well.

Eventually, we decide we need to leave for a week or two, so we get to the airport, where it's discovered there's a special terminal for ambassadors. We apparently don't need to file through a separate line, because ambassadors carry a special luggage that identifies them, and fly in special jets. We get to the waiting room, which is filled with 1/3 ambassadors, 2/3 students like myself, most of whom are using the special luggage. We're all waiting to get on a flight to... London? (I think. My memory is fading.)

I end up hanging out with some Canadian students. We're talking, when my glasses lens pops out again. I try to fix it, and manage to do so, but as I raise them back to my face, the other lens pops out. The other students help me. All this popping out has begun to damage the lenses, which are now beginning to resemble a frosted window.

Then, I wake up.