There I was, back in the military, in uniform, a short-sleeved light blue shirt with my rank on dark blue epaulets, wearing my salad, sharply-creased dark blue pants, glossy black shoes. I noticed I’d been promoted in my dream.
I was at what seemed like a modern and spacious headquarters building, talking with others. I didn’t know them much. I was explaining to them that I’d received a new assignment. Due to leave in three months, I hadn’t heard from the new location yet. Anyone familiar with the Air Force PCS process understands all these. You get the notification, sign and return it, and then the process begins. A sponsor is assigned to you, you’re sent a welcome package, you receive your orders and begin your checklist, and work with personnel to schedule all the requirements for changing locations and jobs.
There wasn’t information on my new assignment, except it seemed prestigious to me, it had been by a by-name request, and it was across the country. I was pleased to receive it. The others had to return to their work for the day, but I had nothing to do, and killed time by strolling around, wondering what I was going to do with myself, chatting with others, in a good mood, telling people, “I have a new assignment, and I’m waiting for my orders.”