Ah, Another Military Dream

I was a younger man, actually my age when I retired from the military in RL. I was dressed in a common uniform of the day, the woodland camouflage battle dress that I often wore.

I’d been invited back for a visit. In most of my assignments, contact was limited to a dozen people in a unit; I worked in a command post, one to three people to a shift, locked in a vault-like space. No windows, one door, eight to twelve hours a shift. People weren’t allowed in without proper clearance, previous approval, and a reason to be there. We were often armed, in case someone who didn’t fit those parameters broke in.

But there was one unit where I worked regularly with aircrews, the training staff, admin, etc. Everyone had access to me, and me to them. This was the unit where I felt closest to my co-workers.

These were the people I was back visiting. We’d been a covert intelligence unit back in the day, but the Berlin Wall fell, the USSR collapsed, and our mission ended. I went back to the US to Space Command. Many in that unit went on to special ops, gunships, or on loan to do drug interdiction on behalf of the DEA. It was this last that was going on in the dream.

We were outside in a large field. I was back by special invitation to watch a military operation, and people from then were back by invitation to see me. Several came back and told me what they’d done since we’d last seen one another thirty years ago. One of the last, Capt. Z, said, “I think it’s time for me to go.” He was hesitant to speak. I said, “No, you’re too young. You still have more to give.”

He shrugged. “I think it’s time. I don’t have a choice.”

He left. The operation progressed. An officer said, “Now Priscilla will explain how the unit coordinates with other agencies to intercept and track illegal drug activities.” Priscilla began leading several squadrons of personnel in military uniforms across a wide street.

As I watched that, I realized that it was Priscilla, a RL friend from my current era, a college professor who had never been in the military. I thought, why is she here?

Dream end.


Refloofdiate (floofinition) – An animal’s unconditional rejection of an object, food, order, activity, or request.

In use: “She went to pet Buster’s silky fur, but the dog put a paw on top of her hand, staying her motion, refloofdiating her approach. Although she laughed, she was surprised and a little hurt, wondering why he was doing that.”

Saturday’s Theme Music

Patchy snow is scattered over the ground like confectioner’s sugar on pastry. Weak sunlight bleeds through a porous gray quilt of clouds. Welcome to April 16, 2022.

Yes, we’re having unseasonable weather on this Saturday, as we’ve had unseasonable weather last season and the season before. When it’s unseasonable like this, it’s unseasoned to my taste.

Snow is in the forecast. The high will be 46 F, up ten degrees from the thermometer’s current stop. Sunrise came — look, there’s some shy sun looking our way now! — came at 6:29 AM. Sundown will steal in around 7:53 PM.

Another night of dreams, but it was a car drive with my wife yesterday, running local errands. As we passed a local landmark, we were, like, hey, something is different, and then remembered, oh, that’s where that drunk driver took out the tree used for the holiday lighting. We wanted to see it again, so I turned the car around. Well, just thinking, ‘turn the car around’ inspired the neurons to begin playing “Shattered (Turn the Car Around)” by O.A.R. from 2008. The song remained in the morning mental music stream today.

Stay positive, test negative, wear a mask as needed, etc. Here’s the music. Now, I’m off on a vision quest. My vision is a cuppa hot coffee. Cheers

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