What got me started with my dreaming was a little conversation with a cow.  She was licking the bull’s face and gave me a look as if to say – don’t bother me now, I’m busy.  And I brought back a vague memory of another cow in a kibbutz long long ago who also had no respect for me.  And how I dreamt then of how perfect the life of a kibbutz was – socialism.  Not knowing any better, I assumed that the Arab village who traded with the kibbutz was another kind of Eden.  I understood very little of what was going on behind the scenes.