In May 1999, upon waking, a message arrived. “We are relocating you to New York City.” In a dream state, I was standing in the middle of an emergency room when I heard the instructions. A catastrophic event will occur, and you need to be there. Osama bin Laden is behind it. I had no interest in going to New York, especially in the winter.
I arrived in March of 2001 just ahead of a Nor’easter storm that never materialized. The hotel where I stayed had received many cancellations and upgraded my room. A king-size bed in a large room overlooking Central Park with a fireplace. I watched the snow gently fall over the park, depicting a winter wonderland, while serenely sipping tea, and soon afterwards, reality set in. I walked through the crowded city, and it was alive and exciting, with a vibrant Jewish community. I could live here, and I felt safe even late at night. I became immersed in the New York lifestyle, leaving behind my California wardrobe.
Months later, I wondered if the catastrophic event would really happen. I had lunch with a friend and started talking about Mashiach. He looked at me a little strangely because no one really talked about it then. I felt an urge to see the World Trade Center and took a bus headed in the opposite direction from my apartment. It started to rain heavily, so I didn’t get out, but I did get to see it from the bus one last time. I did not realize my soul was guiding me as the events unfolded. That evening, I heard a loud blast in my ear like a shofar or a trumpet, and it lasted for at least ten minutes. The next morning, two planes slammed into the twin towers on September 11, 2001.
New York changed that day…