what_language_am_i_speaking epitome of incomprehensibility For this dream, I've gone back in time. It's not just that there's still snow on the ground; I also seem to be about twenty and my brother seventeen. He runs off to slide down the hill with his friend Peter, but soon Mom calls him back. We're walking to a building that's a community centre and partly a bank. Y. needs a bank account for some job or other; to create it he needs a certain amount of cash, so I've offered to supply it. I feel grown-up and mature doing so. Generous for my age. But I'm also in the present, because the centre is supplying food and legal aid for refugees from Ukraine. So I feel torn about going there for the errand: on one hand, the staff could be spending their time on people who need their help more; on the other hand, us going there could show support. Somehow. But when we go in, we find no one else waiting in line. Mom and Y. see someone right away. I'm waiting on a couch and I hear a man and a woman behind me speaking a Slavic language. I turn around to look - the man is busy looking at a clipboard with a passport attached, but the woman asks, "Do you know what language we're speaking?" She thinks I'm younger than I am, I think. But she doesn't look much different from me. Short, with a roundish face and blond-brown hair in a ponytail. She's a bit older, sure, but if I were a bit more rounded out, I wouldn't be mistaken for a high school kid. Anyway, I don't answer. Shy, perhaps. Distracted. Both? "It's Ukrainian," she says with a smile, and she says that both of them came from there a few years ago, so they're offering their translation services. And it makes me think of the time I spoke a language and made someone smile. Only it was a language I didn't know, and I sung it rather than spoke it. But it was Russian, wasn't it? which these people might not be favourably disposed to at the moment, but the man I was singing it to wasn't from Ukraine or Russia. Moldova, my mind told me as I woke up. Another of the mildly weird incidents from Cedar_Christian_Academy. 220412 ... e_o_i Ah yes, and as I was gliding comfortably to consciousness, I remembered "that song by Dostoevsky" except Dostoevsky stood in for Tchaikovsky. 220412 what's it to you? who go blather from