What Dreams
So I had one of those really long drawn out dreams in that span of a snooze button.
It started when I was at a family function at an old friend's place. An old friend, to whom we have long ago parted ways in a less than favorable manner. Her family and I got along really well, but she was a person who enjoyed to keep people around so she could flaunt the things she had over others. Which after some years became a drain.
Regardless. I was wearing my tux, for whatever reason. My friend and her mother and boyfriend had to go shopping and left. Quickly the setting changed as they left as I started to realize that my army company was there. We're a small group, so it blended seamlessly. I was approached by my sergeant, who I just refer to as Jesse--we get along quite well, since I understand his sense of humor--who told me I had watch with Frankie. Well, it wasn't really watch, we had our quarterly PMCS (preventative maintenance, checks and services). No problem at all as I quickly needed to get out of my tux.
So we had to navigate around the crowded party, and managed to do so. It changed the setting, as normally we walk down a set of stairs on our boat, which was positioned under my friend's living room, brings us down to the berthing area. I opened up to a metal courtyard. If you've worked on Navy Vessels or Army Boats, it sort of looked like an open deck. There were lots of people milling about. Frankie and I took the next set of stairs down in order to go back a different set of stairs to get where we needed. But before we headed up those stairs, I would need to change.
So we parted ways and he would find me later to complete our task.
I went to a locker room. Which is strange in itself as it's been years since I've set foot in any locker room. Which was prevalent in the dream, as I had no clue which locker was mine. I was racing my memories as to what lockers I've had throughout my life. Going all the way back to my freshman year of high school. Which makes a dream even more surreal when you access your memories in them. The locker room had a steady stream of people walking in and out. None of whom I recognized, but it seemed that these people looked like military folk, but their general attitude felt like prisoners. Another one of those qualities of dreams, where it looks like one person but feels like another.
I must have made about three laps around the place before a locker opened up before me. A welding jacket that fell out was mine, but I've never had a welding jacket. Though I had reservations about the fact that none of my tasks ahead required welding. I set it aside and began to change.
As I sat down on a different bench away from the locker. Though at this point, my unfamiliarity with the place allowed my dream to take advantage of changing around the location. It's this quaint thing when my dreams and I work against each other... though it's really a one way battle when the sub-conscious is in control. But at that point, I came across Jason and Shawn at a locker together. We bullshit a little, the words were completely lost, but we had some sort of conversation. Jason reached into the top of his wall locker and pulls out some sort of short stock shotgun. Now upon reflection, they sort of remind me of the Remote Grenade Launcher from TF2, or a little like the rebuilt shotgun from Alien Resurrection. But the thing was oozing oil out of barrel and several other break points, a thick gooey hydraulic fluid type oil. Anyhow, Jason takes a few shots at the hazy glass windows behind Shawn's head. To which little grenade type projections fly out. Though they did nothing, it seems to me that it was a play gun. He fired six shots which emptied the thing, and he pointed it at Shawn and let loose a few clicks jokingly. Which I was annoyed at because even if you know it's empty you shouldn't fire a gun while pointing at someone's head. It's rather uncouth. He opened it up to show the cartridge was empty, but I didn't care. He closed it back up and there were darts that came out of a separate barrel along the underside. It was after the first one that some of the oil from the gun splattered on my boxers ( I was still changing ). I wiped it off with my hand, which annoyed the fuck out of me and drove my OCD into overdrive.
So I got up and walked over towards the shower room where I needed to wash it off of me, now aware that Frankie was still waiting for me somewhere. The showers were mostly taken up. I'm not a huge fan of taking showers amongst strangers, but I was looking for a sink to wash my hands. To make matters worse, I was barefoot. I had to walk around in enough water, which further adds to that OCD, because the water just wasn't very clean.
After I took care of the oil on my boxers and hand, I went back to my locker. I decided at this point that it would be a better thing to move the stuff out of this locker and store it all in my stateroom. So I started to pull everything out. Jason asked to help, but I had been so annoyed with him and gave him the cold shoulder--which I do whenever I'm being all emo. But I started gathering card games, board games out of that locker, then acrylic paints. One tube which the person standing next to my locker grabbed and started asking me questions about it, and I took it back without a word. It grew darker as I gathered the mismatched sets of cards and stacked them neatly to be taken to my stateroom.
Though when I looked up from that, I could see myself standing in between two rows of lockers, but it was no longer in a lockerroom... it was sort of in that courtyard. I had my clothes on... though I think it was a prison uniform, and there were spotlights scanning the courtyard.
I suppose it comes down to the fact that I'm drawing close to the end of my sentence with the Army.
It started when I was at a family function at an old friend's place. An old friend, to whom we have long ago parted ways in a less than favorable manner. Her family and I got along really well, but she was a person who enjoyed to keep people around so she could flaunt the things she had over others. Which after some years became a drain.
Regardless. I was wearing my tux, for whatever reason. My friend and her mother and boyfriend had to go shopping and left. Quickly the setting changed as they left as I started to realize that my army company was there. We're a small group, so it blended seamlessly. I was approached by my sergeant, who I just refer to as Jesse--we get along quite well, since I understand his sense of humor--who told me I had watch with Frankie. Well, it wasn't really watch, we had our quarterly PMCS (preventative maintenance, checks and services). No problem at all as I quickly needed to get out of my tux.
So we had to navigate around the crowded party, and managed to do so. It changed the setting, as normally we walk down a set of stairs on our boat, which was positioned under my friend's living room, brings us down to the berthing area. I opened up to a metal courtyard. If you've worked on Navy Vessels or Army Boats, it sort of looked like an open deck. There were lots of people milling about. Frankie and I took the next set of stairs down in order to go back a different set of stairs to get where we needed. But before we headed up those stairs, I would need to change.
So we parted ways and he would find me later to complete our task.
I went to a locker room. Which is strange in itself as it's been years since I've set foot in any locker room. Which was prevalent in the dream, as I had no clue which locker was mine. I was racing my memories as to what lockers I've had throughout my life. Going all the way back to my freshman year of high school. Which makes a dream even more surreal when you access your memories in them. The locker room had a steady stream of people walking in and out. None of whom I recognized, but it seemed that these people looked like military folk, but their general attitude felt like prisoners. Another one of those qualities of dreams, where it looks like one person but feels like another.
I must have made about three laps around the place before a locker opened up before me. A welding jacket that fell out was mine, but I've never had a welding jacket. Though I had reservations about the fact that none of my tasks ahead required welding. I set it aside and began to change.
As I sat down on a different bench away from the locker. Though at this point, my unfamiliarity with the place allowed my dream to take advantage of changing around the location. It's this quaint thing when my dreams and I work against each other... though it's really a one way battle when the sub-conscious is in control. But at that point, I came across Jason and Shawn at a locker together. We bullshit a little, the words were completely lost, but we had some sort of conversation. Jason reached into the top of his wall locker and pulls out some sort of short stock shotgun. Now upon reflection, they sort of remind me of the Remote Grenade Launcher from TF2, or a little like the rebuilt shotgun from Alien Resurrection. But the thing was oozing oil out of barrel and several other break points, a thick gooey hydraulic fluid type oil. Anyhow, Jason takes a few shots at the hazy glass windows behind Shawn's head. To which little grenade type projections fly out. Though they did nothing, it seems to me that it was a play gun. He fired six shots which emptied the thing, and he pointed it at Shawn and let loose a few clicks jokingly. Which I was annoyed at because even if you know it's empty you shouldn't fire a gun while pointing at someone's head. It's rather uncouth. He opened it up to show the cartridge was empty, but I didn't care. He closed it back up and there were darts that came out of a separate barrel along the underside. It was after the first one that some of the oil from the gun splattered on my boxers ( I was still changing ). I wiped it off with my hand, which annoyed the fuck out of me and drove my OCD into overdrive.
So I got up and walked over towards the shower room where I needed to wash it off of me, now aware that Frankie was still waiting for me somewhere. The showers were mostly taken up. I'm not a huge fan of taking showers amongst strangers, but I was looking for a sink to wash my hands. To make matters worse, I was barefoot. I had to walk around in enough water, which further adds to that OCD, because the water just wasn't very clean.
After I took care of the oil on my boxers and hand, I went back to my locker. I decided at this point that it would be a better thing to move the stuff out of this locker and store it all in my stateroom. So I started to pull everything out. Jason asked to help, but I had been so annoyed with him and gave him the cold shoulder--which I do whenever I'm being all emo. But I started gathering card games, board games out of that locker, then acrylic paints. One tube which the person standing next to my locker grabbed and started asking me questions about it, and I took it back without a word. It grew darker as I gathered the mismatched sets of cards and stacked them neatly to be taken to my stateroom.
Though when I looked up from that, I could see myself standing in between two rows of lockers, but it was no longer in a lockerroom... it was sort of in that courtyard. I had my clothes on... though I think it was a prison uniform, and there were spotlights scanning the courtyard.
I suppose it comes down to the fact that I'm drawing close to the end of my sentence with the Army.