
Illustration of a woman thinking/longing. | Photo: Shutterstock
From the beginning of this war, every week, Rena and her husband Amichai continue their journey across the country to embrace and comfort bereaved families. Bereavement spares no one. They meet families that are rich and poor, small and large. They visit sprawling homes in villages or moshavim, and at the same time climb to the fifth floor of a tiny apartment. In this challenging journey, they have learned many powerful lessons that Rena shares in this series.
We sat across from bereaved parents, and the mother described a dream to me.
In her dream, she meets her son. He reaches his arms out to her, and she tries to come closer — but he moves away. And so the dream continues. She cannot touch him at all.
He is present. They stand face to face, but there is no contact.
In the middle of her words, she looked at me and asked:
“Does your Hallel come to you in dreams too?”
I smiled sadly and told her that Hallel was murdered eight years ago, but I have never — truly never — dreamt of her. She is with me constantly in real life; there’s no room for her in my dreams.
The mother sighed and shared that her son is with her at every moment, but she longs to meet him also in her dreams. It’s different, after all.
I thought about our private dreams — the wishes and expectations — but also about the great, national dreams. Indeed, the Jewish Bible (Tanach) is rich with dreams, especially in the Book of Genesis.
At the beginning of our story, we encounter many dreamers.
According to psychoanalysis, a dream reveals a person’s subconscious.
But in the Jewish worldview, dreams are a kind of prophecy (navua) — not only the subconscious that awakens at night, but also the superconscious, a higher kind of connection to God.
In Judaism, dreams have a place and a meaning.
The first dreamer is Avimelech, who takes Sarah from Avraham, believing she is his sister.
At night, God appears to the king and threatens to punish him:
“Behold, you are a dead man… for she is a man’s wife.”
(Bereishit / Genesis 20:3)
Avimelech distances himself from Sarah, does not harm her, and engages in a dialogue with God that reveals his innocence. The dream symbolizes the inner conflict that exists within a person — whether to act according to the command of God or according to one’s own desires.
We know of Jacob the patriarch, the dreamer who saw angels ascending and descending a ladder. We know of Joseph, the great dreamer, whose dreams shaped his fate and that of his family. We know the chief baker and the chief cupbearer in Pharaoh’s prison who each dreamt, and Joseph interpreted their dreams. And there are many more.
What is the difference between viewing a dream as a reflection of the inner subconscious or as the voice of God?
One might say there are multiple layers of internal listening to reality.
There is the closed, intimate circle between me and myself — the inner dialogue, the conflict, the wish that lies within me.
But there is another circle in which God is present, where He speaks His word.
This is a broader, more challenging circle.
I do not live only within myself, but before the face of God.
This creates a different kind of responsibility — a different way of observing, a different depth.
If we succeed in listening with gentleness and quiet, perhaps we will hear God’s calling to us.
I shared these thoughts with the bereaved mother. It comforted her, but at the same time, it saddened me. I have never been privileged to dream about Hallel…
Where is God calling me?

Rena Ariel is a Jewish educator, leader, and role model for many in Israel and around the world. She is the mother of Hallel Yaffa Ariel, whose tragic loss to terrorism has further inspired Rena to promote initiatives that emphasize unity, faith, and the sanctity of life in the Land of Israel. Rena can be reached for lectures or visits to Kerem Hallel at yekev.arielbyehuda@gmail.com
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