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From the time that Joseph is old enough to articulate himself, he is always talking about dreams. It is the first thing his family hear in the mornings, whether he has dreamt and what of. It might have been sweet, at first and on occasion. It is far less so when it is every week, each year since he has learned to put coherent thoughts to word.
"I had such a beautiful dream last night Father." Joseph says as the family break their fast, cross legged on cushions in their father’s tent. Levi sighs loudly, and Reuben elbows him to be quiet.
Jacob chuckles and smiles, every line of his face softened with fondness. Every one of his sons know what he will say next.
"Then do tell about it, Joseph."
Joseph's face lights up as he beams, and he promptly launches into his tale.
"I dreamt I was a lamb, amongst a flock of sheep. There were so many of us that I could not count our number. I grazed and moved amongst my flock, but suddenly they began to push me, and then I was left alone, apart from them. When I looked around I couldn't see the flock, and the field was one which I'd never seen before, a place completely unfamiliar to me."
Joseph frowns, looking down at the fig he had taken for his breakfast, running his fingers over the soft skin of it. He speaks grandly when he talks of his dreams, far more grandly than Reuben ever expects from a boy of 5 – in winding phrases and more words than needed. Zebulun says Joseph is pretentious, and sometimes Reuben is tempted to agree.
"I was frightened. I cried and cried but I heard no answer, and I saw no sign of my flock. But then," and suddenly Joseph is smiling again, warm and peaceful, "then, my shepherd came. He knelt before me and touched my head, and I knew I was safe. I have never felt such safety before - as if a wolf could have been beside me, and I would think nothing of him, because not a hair on my head could be touched by him. Even alone in a foreign field, I didn't fear for anything, for I knew he watched for me."
Joseph looks absently upwards, as if to call back the memory of this dream.
"And then I woke up. It was dark but the dream was so vivid, so real. I still felt as safe as I had under the shepherd's hand. I think perhaps what I felt was the Lord, and the safety of His watch."
Gad groans lowly under his breath, and Naphtali rolls his eyes. Many of Joseph's dreams are childish things - dreams of woollen dolls, of dancing stars, of their father or his mother or of them, his brothers. They have been irritating, in the frequency he tells of them, and the detail he goes into. But recently, another dimension has been added to these dreams; the idea of God, holy images and messages, or stories with meanings. Simeon thinks it's because of Jacob's lessons, that he's learned the way their father tells his teachings and tries to imitate it. Now half of Joseph's dreams conclude with some thought on the Lord, or a 'lesson' to be learned, and now they are twice as annoying again to listen to. It is one thing to listen to the wise teachings of their father, a man who has lived a life of experience, strife, and dedication. It is another to bear constant witness to the clumsy attempts of a child to achieve such gravity.
"It sounds like a beautiful dream indeed, Joseph." Jacob nods, eyes soft as he looks at his favoured son. The gaze turns just a little harder as it sweeps to Gad, and Levi, and Naphtali. "You are right - the presence of the Lord gives great comfort, and we are never more safe than in His hands. I am glad you have learned my teachings so well as to recognise this even in dreams; you would all be wise to learn of me as well as Joseph does."
All of them feel the reproach of this - the not-quite scolding, that they are so dismissive of Joseph's words - and bow their heads accordingly. There is a soft mumble of "Yes, Father" that ripples around them. Reuben grits his teeth through the words, and sees Judah do the same.
Joseph, as ever, seems oblivious to all of that. He is very good at telling stories, for his age - but that does not mean he is good at reading others. While his brothers stew in annoyance and bitter resentment, Joseph only grins and bites into his fig.
"Thank you Father." He chirps, a grating cheerfulness against the sting of reprimand. Asher moves his mouth in mocking imitation, turned away from their father - Naphtali and Zebulun laugh quietly at the gesture.
"And what of you, Father? Was the night pleasant to you, also?" Reuben asks, eager to turn the conversation away from Joseph, and to gain favour playing the dutiful son. Jacob gives him a smile, almost as warm as those he gives their youngest brother - almost. Reuben is the firstborn, the eldest of them all, and before Joseph's birth that had earned him favour above the others, favour that was his by birthright.
He knows it is not becoming to be jealous of a child, one seven years his younger, when he himself is close to manhood - still, he cannot help it.
Their father answers, and after that the gathering dissolves into easy chatter, half a dozen conversations overlapping as they discuss their rest, their food, their duties for the day. Joseph tries to speak up, to offer help with the sheep, or to accompany as the fields are tended, or to lend his knucklebones for a game of dice, but his brothers ignore him. He is too young to join Reuben, Simeon, Levi and Judah as they learn their father’s labour, as they are taught how to herd and how to sow and how to reap. All of the younger boys want to learn to help, and on occasion Zilpah and Bilhah will take their children into the fields to pick herbs and pluck weeds and watch the older boys work – but Joseph’s mother is not well enough to do so, frail of health since his birth. No-one wants to bring him with them, and so he stays in the tents.
Occasionally, Reuben almost feels sorry for Joseph. He has done nothing, himself, to earn this dislike from his brothers. He is young and naive, but each of them were in their turn. He is bright, and happy, and kind. He wants to be involved in their work, wants to learn how to help them. He wants to converse with them, and play with them. He hasn't earned the bitterness they all feel.
But he also hasn't earned the fondness Jacob has for him - hasn't earned favour in any way other than being born the first of Jacob's favourite wife, last of all the rest of them.
So in the end, none of them feel bad as they bid their father farewell, and take their leave, leaving their youngest brother alone in the quiet of their wake.