You're no stranger in my dreams
Intense dream this morning. Then I spent a good long time playing with it in my head. But this is the dream as it came to me.
There's a war on. My lover is a rebel leader of some sort. The country (which isn't the US, but is like it. Perhaps we're Canada?) is partially occupied. There aren't a lot of safe places or routes that the enemy hasn't had watched or infiltrated. But the country is large and hard to occupy efficiently. Somehow women we call Nuns (although they don't appear to be actual religious nuns) are the main way the resistance is communicating and having safehouses. The enemy has figured this out, but we don't know it yet. I am staying with a Nun, in her restaurant. My lover is on a scouting trip, or a skirmish, or something. The Nun only has her one bed, she is trying to teach me lessons about accepting the good in life as we try to sleep. I don't want to share a bed with her because she makes me uncomfortable with her pseudo-preaching, and I want to be alone with my worry. In the middle of the night/early morning, I have a vision, and it pulls me out of the bed screaming and sobbing, only I can't make any noise. Or not enough. My screams are mere whispers. But I see my lover on his horse, getting away from a skirmish, laughing, sure of victory. And then his horse is brought down by his own dog. The dog, which we'd found as a stray, had not been a stray. It responded to commands to take the horse down - biting the tendons in the legs, grabbing on the nose and bringing it down screaming horse screams. My lover is captured and taken off the field struggling. I look out the glass block windows and I can see this, even though it's far away, and I'm trying to scream. I want to hate the dog, but I can't. The dog was only a dog, doing what it was trained to do. I hate the enemy, I hate the smug general person who is smiling and giving orders, and I can't stop screaming. But there's no sound.
The dream then jumped to someone else's point of view. Everyone knew of the local rebel leader and his force being captured. We were in the Nun's restaurant, my band and I. I'm a singer, or something. There were officials of the enemy in the restaurant. We were now an occupied town. The officials said something about there being poison, and said the Nuns were the ones who were the authors of the poison, and that all Nuns were under house arrest on pain of death. They poured orange juice onto tables and tossed dishes and food around and made us get out. No one was to see the Nuns or talk to them or bring them anything. There was something ugly in their words that made me believe they would be torturing the Nuns for information. The enemy had guns and soldiers, and our soldiers were gone. We backed away from the restaurant and went down the road. The streets were cold and edged with dirty snow, full of wandering confused people. No one was allowed to drive anymore without special allowances. A lot of people met at a crossroads near a barn. We were trying to figure out a way to help the Nuns. One local Nun in particular would go actually crazy if she were not allowed outside sometimes. We were working on a course of passive resistance. The enemy couldn't be everywhere at once. We would figure out ways to thwart them. Maybe some could work for the enemy as housecleaners, and smuggle things in and out.
Another way of resistance was that our band was going to become the new way that news was going to travel. We would write songs, anyone could submit lines, about each town. Funny songs. People wanted to write fighting songs, but we knew we wouldn't be allowed to sing those. So we would subvert it with humor, and make a code. Country songs, folk songs, things that people could sing along to. We started breaking the crowd up before the enemy soldiers came by. A truck was driving down the street. Only a day of no one driving, and already a truck driving by was frightening. But I felt hope that we as a band could do something. The woman whose lover was the captured leader looked at me and said "I wouldn't count on it working." I knew she couldn't hold onto hope, but I thought she was wrong. Hope was the only thing we had left.
The dream sort of skipped around. I could see people sneaking the Nuns outside, out of towns, getting messages to and through them, the band traveling to towns and becoming very popular. The resistance gaining ground largely because the enemy's bureaucracy just sort of slid off of them and they did what they wanted when the enemy wasn't looking. The passive-agressive way to win a war, I guess. There weren't enough of the enemy to hold the whole country.
I lay in bed a long time this morning, partly because I was/am so insanely tired (stupid loud drunk 20-something neighbors), and partly wondering what I could do with this story that my dreams brought me. I don't know yet what I can do. But it's something to think about.
There's a war on. My lover is a rebel leader of some sort. The country (which isn't the US, but is like it. Perhaps we're Canada?) is partially occupied. There aren't a lot of safe places or routes that the enemy hasn't had watched or infiltrated. But the country is large and hard to occupy efficiently. Somehow women we call Nuns (although they don't appear to be actual religious nuns) are the main way the resistance is communicating and having safehouses. The enemy has figured this out, but we don't know it yet. I am staying with a Nun, in her restaurant. My lover is on a scouting trip, or a skirmish, or something. The Nun only has her one bed, she is trying to teach me lessons about accepting the good in life as we try to sleep. I don't want to share a bed with her because she makes me uncomfortable with her pseudo-preaching, and I want to be alone with my worry. In the middle of the night/early morning, I have a vision, and it pulls me out of the bed screaming and sobbing, only I can't make any noise. Or not enough. My screams are mere whispers. But I see my lover on his horse, getting away from a skirmish, laughing, sure of victory. And then his horse is brought down by his own dog. The dog, which we'd found as a stray, had not been a stray. It responded to commands to take the horse down - biting the tendons in the legs, grabbing on the nose and bringing it down screaming horse screams. My lover is captured and taken off the field struggling. I look out the glass block windows and I can see this, even though it's far away, and I'm trying to scream. I want to hate the dog, but I can't. The dog was only a dog, doing what it was trained to do. I hate the enemy, I hate the smug general person who is smiling and giving orders, and I can't stop screaming. But there's no sound.
The dream then jumped to someone else's point of view. Everyone knew of the local rebel leader and his force being captured. We were in the Nun's restaurant, my band and I. I'm a singer, or something. There were officials of the enemy in the restaurant. We were now an occupied town. The officials said something about there being poison, and said the Nuns were the ones who were the authors of the poison, and that all Nuns were under house arrest on pain of death. They poured orange juice onto tables and tossed dishes and food around and made us get out. No one was to see the Nuns or talk to them or bring them anything. There was something ugly in their words that made me believe they would be torturing the Nuns for information. The enemy had guns and soldiers, and our soldiers were gone. We backed away from the restaurant and went down the road. The streets were cold and edged with dirty snow, full of wandering confused people. No one was allowed to drive anymore without special allowances. A lot of people met at a crossroads near a barn. We were trying to figure out a way to help the Nuns. One local Nun in particular would go actually crazy if she were not allowed outside sometimes. We were working on a course of passive resistance. The enemy couldn't be everywhere at once. We would figure out ways to thwart them. Maybe some could work for the enemy as housecleaners, and smuggle things in and out.
Another way of resistance was that our band was going to become the new way that news was going to travel. We would write songs, anyone could submit lines, about each town. Funny songs. People wanted to write fighting songs, but we knew we wouldn't be allowed to sing those. So we would subvert it with humor, and make a code. Country songs, folk songs, things that people could sing along to. We started breaking the crowd up before the enemy soldiers came by. A truck was driving down the street. Only a day of no one driving, and already a truck driving by was frightening. But I felt hope that we as a band could do something. The woman whose lover was the captured leader looked at me and said "I wouldn't count on it working." I knew she couldn't hold onto hope, but I thought she was wrong. Hope was the only thing we had left.
The dream sort of skipped around. I could see people sneaking the Nuns outside, out of towns, getting messages to and through them, the band traveling to towns and becoming very popular. The resistance gaining ground largely because the enemy's bureaucracy just sort of slid off of them and they did what they wanted when the enemy wasn't looking. The passive-agressive way to win a war, I guess. There weren't enough of the enemy to hold the whole country.
I lay in bed a long time this morning, partly because I was/am so insanely tired (stupid loud drunk 20-something neighbors), and partly wondering what I could do with this story that my dreams brought me. I don't know yet what I can do. But it's something to think about.