I have been living in Israel for 14 months, speaking Hebrew badly, speaking English at home, and hearing/speaking no other languages.
Then, yesterday, I was thinking of the Hebrew word for "next" and the word that I came up with was "prochaine." If I could have taken my brain out of my head and stared at it in disbelief I would have, painful and messy as that would have been. I could not understand where that came from. So I shook my head (because, you know, that always makes your brain work better, kind of like kicking the TV), and said, "Silly, not prochaine! Proxima!" That really scared me.
So clearly there is a department store of languages in my brain and there is a little me in there with a shopping cart running between the departments looking for the word "next." And I must have stopped in the wrong department.
The funny (or sad or scary - probably scary) thing was, I started thinking in French. Whole sentences. I haven't thought in, or about, French since college.
Then I got mad at my brain. I mean, listen, brain, for 14 months I've been trying to get you to think in Hebrew and now you decide to turn the lights on in the French department. Thanks, really.
On top of all of this I am reading a book "Songs for the Butcher's Daughter" [those of you who really know me will appreciate that]. The book focuses on someone who is enthralled with Yiddish. There is a lot of Yiddish in the book.
So, my brain must have decided, "Oh, she wants to speak Yiddish, no problemo! We'll open the doors to the Yiddish boutique on the third floor!" and then last night I had a dream where I spoke in Yiddish - and very well, might I say.
Or maybe - because this is more my style - instead of these languages residing in elegant little departments, they are in a Costco-like warehouse, living together on the shelves. This would explain my current situation much better.
I'm sure there is a neurologist out there who will explain this to me - but save yourself the effort. Here is my scientific explanation, after much exhaustive research: The brain works like that sometimes.
Gotta get back to cleaning the cocina.