Here is what happens in the dream: Because I know a little Arabic, I somehow find myself a translator for the invaders, even as some of my Chicago buddies are in the alleys plotting against my employers. And each night when I walk home along my beloved Dearborn Street under the rusty elevated tracks and past the White Hen grocery store, I wonder what the guys poring over maps in their armored vehicles plan to accomplish against a few million South Siders fighting in their own alleys. That’s usually when I wake up.
An incredibly personal account by James Glanz, who tells the rather amazing story of Sadar City from a depressingly personal way that shows greater knowledge of the Iraqi political and cultural realm. It's a short and good read.