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"So Emily, what brings you here? You mentioned on the phone that you were looking to convert. Tell me, in which faith were you raised?" Noticing that his olive complexion matched mine (further proof I should be welcomed into the fold), I said, "Christian. I was raised in 2005 the Presbyterian Church." "I see. And why do you think Judaism is for you?" "Well, I had this dream." Should I tell this man my dream? I knew I'd regret my stupid bluntness. However, I also knew my incurable infatuation 2005 for self-sabotage, so it would come out eventually. And, it 2005 was only a matter of time before the taboo subject of my li'l mental illness might rear its ugly head, too. Hi, I'm Ms. Demented. Pleased to meet you, Rabbi. Say, mind if I smoke? "A dream?" he asked. "Yes. Uh, it may sound a little silly but after the dream, I woke up… well, I was convinced that God had sent me a message that I should convert to Judaism. I've always been interested in your customs: I think it started with the dreidel song we learned in church.
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