Another Military Dream – Almost

I wasn’t in the military. Young again, I discovered that I’d volunteered to do something. Many others had volunteered. We were waiting for the results.

While doing that, we went into a chowhall. The place seemed chaotically organized. I decided to fix a burrito. I managed to get a plate, tortilla, beans, rice, but then could find nothing else. I was watching people select other foods but none of those foods were familiar. I eventually found some corn chips. Crunching them up, I added them to my burrito and ate it. It was not very satisfying.

An announcement was then made. I, along with others, had been chosen for a special project. We were being told that it was a great honor and we would do a wonderful job. I have no idea what that was about, although I seemed to understand it in the dream.

We were told that we had new quarters we’d be sharing. Find someplace and stake a claim.

I knew no one else there; in fact, that seemed common: no one knew anyone else. So I’d be bunking with strangers.

I entered what was indicated as available quarters. What I encountered wasn’t what I expected. The walls were painted in bright white. Furnished, it was strangely arranged and organized. Wide, tall, the floor sloped like a meadow. Different rooms were indicated via arched halls. Whole thing reminded me of a hobbit’s place.

I encountered one of the others. A tall, white guy, bald, he was in Air Force dress blues. I gawked at his medals and ribbons; they were a collection unlike any I’d ever seen.

I told him so. Abashed, he replied, “Oh, yes, they rewarded me for being part of some special projects, but they weren’t really anything.” He then explained two of them but I don’t recall those details. One was a huge, blue and white ribbon with a large gold B on it.

Needing to use a restroom, I spotted one ‘down the living room slope’. The bathroom was a small, well lit cave with a rounded entry and door. The bathroom itself was gold and pink. Strings of bright white and gold lights were attached to the arched door frame.

I went in and sat on the commode, then tried to close the door. It would not stay close. We have to fix this, I thought.

A tall, muscular black woman in green shorts and a green top pushed the door in. I told her the room was in use. Never saying anything, she left.

The door remained open. Going out, she called out to the man in the dress uniform, “I can give you three four eight for seven. That should get you there.”

Leaving the room, I did up my clothes and asked in general, “What’s that mean?”

Dream end.  

A Dream Shard

Hearing something — can’t even saw what it was — today when I was in the coffee shop writing, I suddenly see a forgotten dream from last night. Really, just a shard. First person personal point of view, I’m driving in a car along a winding country highway. Leafy green trees blur by on either side. It sometimes seems like someone is with me but that’s inconsistent. I mostly seem to be alone.

Everything is going smoothly. I’m on a long road trip. Ahead is where I’m going to leave the country highway and jump onto the Interstate. The first road is climbing and turning. I split off. Cresting a ridge, the on-ramp veers left and goes down a steep hill and into intense banking as the ramp joins the Interstate and the Interstate goes left. Sunshine bathes the cars and roadway.

I won’t be on this road long, just a few miles. As I hit the banked curve and merge with the traffic, I press the brake pedal and recognize, I’m not slowing. Speed picks up despite greater pressure on the pedal. I announce, “I don’t have any brakes.” Someone in the other seat replies, “What?”

I repeat what I said and lean their way. But no one occupies the seat. I mutter, “I’m not on the road long. My exit is just ahead.” I can see it, a long, lean hill that ends at an intersection with a traffic light. “But I’m going to need to stop. I’ll add some brake fluid when I can. I think that’ll fix it. First, though, I need to stop.”

The car hits the exit ramp. It’s flying over bumps. Grinning, beginning to laugh, I kick out the floorboard. “Just do it like Fred Flintstone.” I put my feet down onto the cement road. Pressing the soles down with all my strength, I drag the car to a stop.

Dream end.

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