As I leave Israel for a year, in the summer of 1975, I carry with me the awareness that war, although somewhat removed in time, is still very much present for many Israelis. I return a year later to a similar atmosphere. It is now the fall of 1976, and a new group forms. Without any warning, this group is "in" again when David announces: "I had a dream about how I missed the war." (This dream, "Unknown Driver in the Desert," was presented earlier in Part II.) Following David, the group of 1977 is again treading this by now familiar path, with Esther voicing her mourning and the whole group participating in expressing their fear of death. The presence of Dana, another war widow, endows these new/old encounters with additional intensity. Clearly, this year's work has pointed to the amount of personal strength and vigor necessary to confront the fear and pain, which are an inseparable part of our life in Israel, in the shadow of war.
People around my office at the university who knew I was working on a book about war expressed interest and used to inquire about my progress. One Sunday morning, Taly, a woman who was not a member of my group, came to me. "I had a strange dream on Friday night," she said, "and I remember it with unusual clarity -- colors, textures, and all. It was very frightening and has something to do with the ten-year memorial ceremony for my brother-in-law, which I attended the other