Another Military Dream

This dream was different from the beginning. In my previous military dreams, I’m usually arriving and lost, or establishing order and structure. In this dream, I found myself finishing and leaving. The dream was mostly about me showing my replacement all the equipment and introducing him to our processes and procedures. In a parallel action, the colonel who was the commanding officer, was handing over command and moving on. This individual was a real-life person who later retired as a lieutenant general. We’d worked closely together during my final assignment. Now, in the dream, I ran into him. Both of us were in good moods. He was hungry. I told him that I could get him pizza, which he accepted.

It was very hectic, with much going on. I was constantly fielding questions, introducing people, and hurrying from point to point. During this, I saw a young airman watching. I grinned and waved to her, and then asked her what she was doing. She told me that she was watching me and that I just amazed her with my energy and authority. I laughed and joked that that was all surface appearance, that underneath it all, I was a quivering mess. She rejected that, telling me, “I know you, and you’re always like this, in control of everything and getting it all done.” The flattery pleased me.

Dream end.

A Quasi Military Dream

I was recalled to active service, except, it was all very casual. I wasn’t required to wear a uniform or go anywhere, but I received an assignment that I was to ‘go around and check the gas stations’.

My wife was with me. All I did was drive about to gas stations. It’s unclear how I was ‘checking’ them. She left to go get on my next assignment.

She returned with the information. We went to a new house. It was fantastic, gorgeous, white with wonderful views through floor to ceiling windows. We went up steps to the second floor to explore and were talking, telling one another how lucky we were to have such a house.

A man rushed in. He identified us and then said, “You need to leave now,” in a strong, authoritative voice.

My wife asked, “What do you mean?”

He replied, “You need to evacuate RIGHT NOW.”

My wife replied with a hard nod, “Okay, we will.”

Dream end.

Monday’s Theme Music

Dropping down to 97 F today, a cooling trend for the week. By Sunday, it’ll be down to 73 F, they say, as they expect the heat dome to slide on across North America.

Today is June 27, 2022, the month’s final Monday for this year. We’ll be pushing on into July next week. Time is racing by in my life. Don’t know about yers. Sunrise kicked off at 5:36. It’s slowly sliding back toward six AM. Sunset is holding steady at 8:51 PM.

Today’s theme song was a sudden apparition from the memory mines. Don’t know what The Neurons were thinking. I suspect they played a game of randomly pushing buttons, giggling and telling themselves, “Let’s see what happens when we push these buttons.” Well, those buttons took me to an entertaining time of life on an island called Okinawa on the edge of the Pacific Ocean. between the East China Sea and the Philippine Sea. Yes, there’s a lot of water around it. This song, “Be Good Johnny” was part of that scene. Maybe, more rational neurons suggest, it was thinking about heat and mugginess. Okinawa was a muggy place. No A/C in the apartment we lived in for the first coupla years. Dripping with sweat was the day’s norm. If you weren’t sweating, people were liable to ask, “Are you okay? You’re not sweating.”

Here is “Be Good Johnny” by Men At Work from 1982. I enjoy Colin Hay’s vocal work in the song. Hope you to do. Coffee? Let’s go. Stay positive and test negative.

Cheers

Sunday’s Theme Music

My wife declared, “I love this weather.” It’s a cool Sunday. June 12, 2022. Clinging mists obscure the downslopes of pine and hardwood trees. The temperature dropped fast last night. It’s back up to 63 F but with clouds and rain dominating, that’s the day’s high. And it’s peculiar, as I was out last night with the cat, admiring the bright moon. “Pretty nice, isn’t it?” I said to him. “Not quite a full moon. I like the air’s smell. It’s so fresh.”

“That’s a waxing gibbous.” The cat yawned and stretched. “About ninety to ninety-five percent, I’d say. Rain’s coming.”

I checked, and he was right about the moon. Clouds stormed in, delivering a snare-drum rain performance before sunrise at 5:34 AM. Sunset: 8:47 PM.

Songs about flying fill the morning mental music stream. Don’t know what the neurons are thinking with that; did I have a flying dream that I don’t remember? Or are they gaslighting me?

But looking out the window reminded me of Germany. We lived there in the eighties while stationed at Rhein Main AB. Clouds and rain were frequently experienced in that region. The neurons eventually began singing “Jammin’ Me” by Tom Petty (1987). They didn’t give a reason although it might be that friends and I were discussing this song because we’d gone to see The Grateful Dead. Conversation had turned to Bob Dylan, and one person mentioned that Bob Dylan wrote this song with Tom Petty and Mike Campbell. Could be. The reflective trip down the memory highway ended with the usual refrain, wonder where those guys are now?

Another Military Dream

We were going into another country on a commercial aircraft. A warning was issued to us before we boarded: it’d be a crazy landing, with a steep approach. We were all military, dressed in drab olive-green flight suits or green and brown woodland camouflage uniforms. It was a packed aircraft. We were going in as part of a disaster recovery mission.

We were on the aircraft and notified that the descent was beginning. The aircraft abruptly corkscrewed right and down, throwing us around in our seats. It suddenly flattened out. As people commented on the unusual and steep approach, we hit the ground and bounced hard. Rain had slicked the ground outside. We slid off the runway and across wet pavement before slamming the left side, where I sat, by a window, into a building.

I expected explosions or wreckage, but the aircraft continued forward, sliding along with its left side against the building. I saw a dead man fall out of a doorway and then we rocked to a halt. As we filed out of the aircraft, a number of people talked about the landing but always with the proviso, “Well, at least no one was hurt.” I was contrarian. “What about the people in the buildings? I saw at least one dead guy.” As I looked for him, I thought that he may have already been dead before we landed, as he looked stiff and bloodless.

Carrying bags, we went up into a building and were assigned rooms. I was given A233. While others were clustered around the same area, looking at the numbers, I realized that mine was far away. Grabbing my bags, I said, “I know exactly where it’s at,” and went down a hall and directly to my room. Dropping my bags off, I returned to the central office where we would be setting up.

Personnel were crowded into the room. A lieutenant colonel was walking around, speaking as he did, and was clearly drunk. He said, “I think we need a fire.” He then set pieces of paper on fire and put them on my desk. As this was transpiring, I said, “Sir, I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to start a fire in here, especially on my desk.” I headed up there as I spoke, simultaneously looking for somewhere to put the fire, something to put it out with, and reaching it from the officer and the desk.

Dream end

The Black Dog Dream

This was another military dream but, with twists to it that made the military component less significant.

So, yeah, in the military, young again, running a command post, killing time. I’m waiting for something to happen, so I start going through the daily logs. First, I’m superintendent and I’m expected to review and initial the logs each day. Second, the logs should reflect what checklist actions have been taken by the controllers on duty. I want to ensure they’re doing their jobs as expected when I’m not around.

I go through a bit of that, making comments. The command post is lightly busy around me, slower than a typical day, with people calling in on the radios and the telephones ringing and being answered. My mood is buoyant; whatever I’m waiting to have happen has me hopeful and excited, full of anticipation. Going through personnel rosters, I note that we’ve lost several people, which lowers the assigned total to perfectly fit all needs. That delights me to bizarre levels. Every position filled, and no one left for me to ‘find a job’ for them. Great. I go through the names, recognizing people who worked for me before, and then do a casual audit of the communication security code books on hand, ensuring they’re being properly maintained. Everything is in perfect order!

I’m abruptly changed into civilian clothes, which surprises me, but it’s a good thing, I decide, ala Martha Stewart. Then I’m looking for my dogs. I should have three. (NOTE: In RL, I’ve never owned a dog.) I find one of them. I recall the second one passed away, which saddens me. But the third, a small black Yorkie in my mind, should be there.

I begin walking around the command post, looking for the missing black dog. As I do, others question me about what I’m doing. They don’t seem to be able to comprehend my answers. As I’m responding and still looking, I see the dog bounding down a small ravine. Well, there he is, I think, happy to know that, and going after him.

I leave the command post but can’t find the ravine. I know that’s where the dog, so how do I get there? The dream ends as I’m turning in circles, trying to understand where to go to reach the dog…

A Messy Dream

Although, it was in a military setting, I thought the messy theme provided the important aspect.

Young again, I was with a bunch of other military in a battlestaff room. Large and horse-shoe shaped, it had multiple phones, display panels, maps, flags, all that sort of thing. Unlike standard battlestaff areas, this one had large windows, too, showing that we were in the middle of the night.

I knew all the military there. We weren’t working, but just hanging around together. It seemed like a large party with elements of a sleepover. I had an impression that was never clarified that we were waiting for something. Plates, food, sleeping bags, and pillows cluttered the place, offending my sense of order.

Knots of conversation were going on. Laughter abounded, and pizza and vegetable trays were set up. Almost all the others were officers. They teased me about being serious. I walked around, eating food, looking for things to do, feeling isolated. Some were gathered around an older style television, large and square, full of tubes. They were watching red and black action and trying to figure out what it was. I joined them and realized they were watching the ‘TNT’ cable network, and then said, “This is a NASCAR race.” Bizarrely, the screen was almost all black; the cars were outlined in bright red.

I went on from that, shaking my head, and then decided to leave to get clothes. I hastened to my place. Getting there just required going down corridors and around corners. Reaching there, I found my wife all dressed up to go out. She said she wanted to go back with me. I said, “Why not?”

When we returned, I did a general introduction of my wife. I sat and she sat on my lap, flirting with me and kissing me. I enjoyed this but then she said she was going back to our place. That was fine. Whatever was going on seemed to be drawing down as about half of the gathered personnel trickled out. Walking around, I discovered phone lines blinking. I asked, “Why isn’t anyone answering any of these phones?”

One of the others replied, “We didn’t want to.”

Annoyed, I began answering phones. Nobody was on usually. Walking around, I discovered that they’d taken the hotlines off their cradles. Back in the decades I was in the military, these phones were red, black, and yellow. All were set off by themselves and were dedicated to specific purposes — one was the red phone which hooked up to headquarters and national command authorities. The black one was for the secondary crash net, for when a major accident was happening, used to pass information to many agencies at once. Beside it was a dark green one, used to connect with the Central Security Center. Another, which was green, was the AUTOVON system, a sort of military long-distance calling network.

All these phones were off their cradles, horrifying me. As I chastised the others, they laughed off my concerns. I also discovered that the UHF & VHF radios were turned off.

Oh, my God, I couldn’t believe it. They’d basically ignored all calls or disabled all communication systems. As I did, I found muddy foot prints all over the floors.

I went about fixing it all. Hard rain began pelting the windows. I looked around and discovered the others were gone, leaving only a mess.

Dream end.

Monday’s Theme Music

April showers are now May showers. May 2, 2022, has brought Monday rain along with the now standard chilly temperature of 42 F. We expect 53 today. Sunrise was in interesting swarming of sunshine among swarming gray clouds and splashes of rain at 6:05. The sun’s daily turn will end at 8:11 this evening.

We had a gorgeous one yesterday, topping 70 F without a cloud in the air. The memorial service, a block party held on the street in front of his house and hosted by his widow, a sweet, retired nurse named Char, was well-attended, friendly, and oddly happy. Maybe it was the weather. Plenty of food was brought and shared. Anecdotes and accolades were dished out. Laughter ensued. Tears were wiped away. Gazes up at the blue sky were noted.

After the service, I returned home, checked today’s weather and went out for yard work. Alas, my string trimmer died on me after I was two-thirds completed. I suspect a switch and have found a video with a possible fix from people reporting the same problem and symptoms. I’ll be pursuing that later today. I’m coming to love DIY.

Today finds the neurons playing “Find Your Way Back” by Jefferson Starship from 1981. Yeah, it’s all mind games, coming about when I came out of a dream during the night. I wanted to find my way back to it and see how it ended. While that’s often successful, I failed this time. The song came out just a month before my wife and I were heading on our first overseas assignment. I’d already been overseas unaccompanied, but this was going to be a three to four year stay on Okinawa. Turned out to be a good one for us.

Anyway, here is the music. Hope you can stay positive and test negative, that you endure and prosper. Hope I can find a cup of coffee somewhere around the house in the next few minutes. I guess I’ll check the kitchen.

The Mistakes Dream

Okay, another dream that placed me in the military, but I think other aspects have more meaning.

Young, about thirty-eight, the age I was when I retired, I was in a conference room with the commander and several other people. I was wearing my light blue uniform shirt with dark blue pants, standard for the Air Force and office work in those days.

The conference was very nice and modern but for some reason, the commander was upset about three lights in the ceiling. These were back in the middle, by the rear wall. The lights were small, recessed task lights, adjacent to one another, silver. The commander, a colonel, was going on about the lights being useless. “I’m going to prove it,” he shouted, “and get them removed.”

I was listening to this screed with some disdain. I thought the lights could have a use not immediately apparent — otherwise, why install them? — and it wasn’t like it made the room unusable. But I wasn’t interested in arguing with him.

The commander and a group of people left. I stayed, as did a few others, waiting for something else. Bored, I was balancing a hollow cylindrical rod on my palm. This was about three feet long, but six inches in diameter. I decided to push it against the acoustic ceiling tile. To my surprise, it cut out a perfect round hole in the tile.

The others immediately gathered, aghast, asking, “Oh my God, what did you do? Why did you do that?”

I felt more amused than upset with it, but I did immediately start trying to think of a way of covering it up. Several ideas were considered and rejected. I shrugged; the commander would come in and find it, and I’d deal with the fallout. I was almost done here, anyway, due to retire or leave within a few weeks.

Then I noticed that my uniform was screwed up. It wasn’t buttoned right, the right chest pocket was torn and hanging off, and I hadn’t attached my name tag and insignia. I also realized that I needed a haircut; I’d meant to do that and forget.

I told the rest that I need to go. “Why?” they asked. “I need to change my uniform.” I pointed out the problems with it.

The commander returned as I was doing that. He saw the mistakes and shrugged. “Go get it taken care of,” he said.

Dream end.

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.

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