A Dream of the Shoah: Facing Pain We Cannot Understand

On one of the nights I spent in the ancient synagogue, I had a dream, one that stayed with me long after I woke up.

In the dream, I saw countless train tracks, lined with railcars. These were cars meant for animals, yet they were filled with people, packed tightly with no space to breathe. Cries and groans filled the air. The feeling was unbearable.

Then, as if guided from one scene to another, I saw where the trains had come from. At the station, families were being torn apart. Mothers were separated from their husbands and children. Those left behind had no idea where their loved ones were being taken. Those on the trains did not know their destination either.

And then I saw where the trains were going.

The “Factory” That Destroyed Lives

There were hundreds, even thousands, of railcars. Tens of thousands of people stepped off and were led toward what looked like a factory. But this was not a place that produced anything. It was a place designed only for destruction.

People were lined up. Some were selected for forced labor. Others were taken for cruel experiments. The rest were marked for immediate death.

In the dream, there was a strange and terrifying message in the air. These people were being treated as if they were a dangerous virus that needed to be eliminated completely, without leaving a trace.

But nothing made sense.

How could anyone justify such cruelty? How could children, babies, and mothers holding their infants be seen as a threat?

More Than a Number

Inside the “factory,” people were destroyed. Their belongings were taken, clothing, personal items, even dentures. Everything was used to benefit their killers.

But they were not just numbers.

There was a young man named David Rosenbaum, a gifted student who dreamed of becoming a journalist. There was Hannah Wolf, a young mother who had waited ten years to have a child, now holding her only baby without knowing where her husband was. There was Mendel Weiss, standing with his son, grandson, and great grandson, all in the same line.

Each one was a world.

When we say “six million,” it is easy to think of a number. But it is not a number. It is six million individual lives, stories, dreams, each one lost.

The Silent Evidence

Then the dream shifted.

I saw piles of shoes, thousands of them, sorted by size. Some were so small they belonged to young children. There were eyeglasses, suitcases, toys, and personal belongings, all carefully arranged, as if in a perfectly organized system.

And then I saw it.

A massive mound of ash.

This was what remained.

Human beings, created in the image of God, reduced to ash. And after everything, there was only silence.

Waking Up to Reality

I woke up in fear and ran to my guide. He listened and then said quietly:

“Dan, what you saw in your dream really happened. Not long ago, here in Europe. The Nazi Germans and their collaborators carried this out during the Second World War. We call it the Shoah.”

He paused before continuing.

“Do not ask why it happened. Even if there is an answer, it is not something we can fully understand. There are things that belong not to the intellect, but to the realm of feeling. We can only grieve, reflect, and recognize that Hashem has reasons beyond our grasp.”

A Pain Beyond Words

For several minutes, I could barely move.

Finally, I asked, “Is it possible to feel such endless pain? How can anyone contain suffering on this scale?”

My guide nodded.

“You are right. That is why many survivors chose not to speak about their experiences. It is not only because they fear reopening the wound. The pain is always there. But words cannot truly capture it. And those who hear can never fully understand.”

“The pain of the Shoah is infinite. It cannot be measured or contained. It belongs to a place beyond human comprehension.”

What Are We Meant to Do?

I asked him, “So what should I do with this? Should I just let it pass because I cannot fully understand it?”

“Absolutely not,” he said. “Feel it. Let yourself be moved. The more you feel, the more your love for the Jewish people will grow. And the stronger your faith will become.”

He continued:

“This did not happen by chance. There has never been anything like this in history, not with such cruelty, not on such a scale, and not without any clear reason beyond hatred.”

Living With Questions

After that conversation, I understood something important.

We are not meant to understand everything. And perhaps it is even better that we do not.

A person does not live only through what he knows, but through his desire to understand. That longing pushes us to grow, to search, and to keep asking.

This world is a place of striving and questioning. The World to Come is where answers are revealed.

As long as we live, we will not fully understand the reasons behind everything that has happened. We can ask, we can explore, we can suggest ideas, but we must remain humble.

There is only one thing we can say with certainty.

Hashem was there. Hashem saw everything. And Hashem was in control.