I don't understand....
Okay..so the one dream that I can remember today, from last night, bothers me and I don't even know WHY I would have such a detailed dream. IT BOTHERS ME!
I don't remember all of it, but I'll try.
I was a soldier in the US Army. I can only surmise it was World War II. The enemy was the Germans. We were infantry. They were a Panzer Unit. Both sides had large numbers, it seemed to me. Part of us knew we weren't going to win this battle. But we accepted it like it was part of the plan.
The Germans finally cornered us, both sides lost some as usual. Some of our soldiers, in a suicide effort, would take out as many of the Germans or a tank with their own deaths. I was proud of them in the dream, but I was sorry to see them go. There were women in our unit, fighting equally with the men. Their gender didn't seem to play a great deal of importance in the dream, they were just there.
We were all thrown in our own prison camp. I recall scenes of torture. The Germans made a game out of it. Some of us died, but some of us were survivors, barely. It was strange because we had a building with decent rooms to bunk in, if a little crowded. The inside seemed clean, well taken care of, but outside it was dirty, sweaty and hot.
Toward the end of the dream, we were losing hope. No, we lost hope. For some reason they let our one Commander have a jeep that was driven around by one of our Sgt, like a mockery of what he had been. I remember hearing him say to the Sgt. "Okay, Sgt. Set course...take me home." The Sgt just began driving then, driving in circles around this huge dirt pile that the Germans made us dig at constantly, creating holes, filling holes, repeat. The Commander just died there in the backseat and we all watched. Stopped what we were doing and just watched, whispering among ourselves that he was dead. We had respect for him. It hurt.
The Germans stopped the Jeep, pulled his body from it and threw it in a nearby hole. But that wasn't enough. They began beating his dead body with the butts of their rifles, beating it, defiling it, crushing the bones of his body while we all watched. We cried out our outrage that they should stop doing that, that we wouldn't do that to theirs if the tables were turned. I think I tried to interfere, but was held back.
That's when I woke up.
I don't understand why I would have such a dream. I don't watch war movies. I haven't studied the wars. Though I know more than I care to. My Dad used to watch those war movies.
I don't understand why my brain would torture me with such a hopeless dream.
Thanks brain....fucker.
I don't remember all of it, but I'll try.
I was a soldier in the US Army. I can only surmise it was World War II. The enemy was the Germans. We were infantry. They were a Panzer Unit. Both sides had large numbers, it seemed to me. Part of us knew we weren't going to win this battle. But we accepted it like it was part of the plan.
The Germans finally cornered us, both sides lost some as usual. Some of our soldiers, in a suicide effort, would take out as many of the Germans or a tank with their own deaths. I was proud of them in the dream, but I was sorry to see them go. There were women in our unit, fighting equally with the men. Their gender didn't seem to play a great deal of importance in the dream, they were just there.
We were all thrown in our own prison camp. I recall scenes of torture. The Germans made a game out of it. Some of us died, but some of us were survivors, barely. It was strange because we had a building with decent rooms to bunk in, if a little crowded. The inside seemed clean, well taken care of, but outside it was dirty, sweaty and hot.
Toward the end of the dream, we were losing hope. No, we lost hope. For some reason they let our one Commander have a jeep that was driven around by one of our Sgt, like a mockery of what he had been. I remember hearing him say to the Sgt. "Okay, Sgt. Set course...take me home." The Sgt just began driving then, driving in circles around this huge dirt pile that the Germans made us dig at constantly, creating holes, filling holes, repeat. The Commander just died there in the backseat and we all watched. Stopped what we were doing and just watched, whispering among ourselves that he was dead. We had respect for him. It hurt.
The Germans stopped the Jeep, pulled his body from it and threw it in a nearby hole. But that wasn't enough. They began beating his dead body with the butts of their rifles, beating it, defiling it, crushing the bones of his body while we all watched. We cried out our outrage that they should stop doing that, that we wouldn't do that to theirs if the tables were turned. I think I tried to interfere, but was held back.
That's when I woke up.
I don't understand why I would have such a dream. I don't watch war movies. I haven't studied the wars. Though I know more than I care to. My Dad used to watch those war movies.
I don't understand why my brain would torture me with such a hopeless dream.
Thanks brain....fucker.