After my recent post regarding dreaming of finding things in the refrigerator, I was wondering if anyone else has wierd dreams?
I often dream of demons (for want of a better description) tormenting me and find myself trying to fend them off, but something prevents me from being able to land a good solid punch on this leering twat. It’s as if the energy of my punch disappears in something like puff of powder. The frustration of it causes me to jump about and shout in my sleep. My wife has learned to be very patient, and cautious, when I’m in this state.
There is nothing new about these dreams. When I was serving, I had them constantly, but then they were much more menacing, so much so, that quite often, after I awoke from the dream, I was reluctant to go back to sleep. But I had little enough sleep as it was, I couldn’t afford to loose anymore. I managed to train myself to recognise that I was dreaming and was able to tell myself to wake up.
Neither was I the alone with such dreams. other chaps would drop-off to sleep in the back of a vehicle or some such place and begin struggling and fighting with some imaginary foe. We would usually allow them to get on with it, as it was usually amusing to observe, but if they became too distressed, we would wake them.
I still ahve these dreams, but less frequent, and I usually laugh it off, when the missus wakes me. They don’t normally leave any after-effect regarding trepidation, anymore, both myself and the missus accept that they are a part of our lives.
This roughly how one of such dreams went about a week or so ago. It remains vivid in my mind as I discussed it with the missus afterwards - Be aware, if you are sqeamish about strong language, then read no further!
“Where the fuck is this place, and how the fuck did I end up back in the regiment??” I don’t see anyone I recognise. As I look about their are number of senior ranks leaving their mess. “Who the fuck are those sprogs in Blues wearing senior ranks insignia? Look like a bunch of kids? and where the fuck did this ciggi come from, I gave up smoking decades ago, this is fucking bizarre, I don’t even remember taking it up again, but what the fuck, I might as well enjoy it.” Now I’m in deep shit, I can’t find my rifle. I don’t even remember being issued with it, but I am aware that I can’t find it anywhere. Panic is setting in, I can’t find my fucking rifle, and I don’t know anyone who can help. I keep searching, then I see a number of me old marras. "They look different, strange somehow, fuck me, they’re all fucking dead! But, why do they look so different? Some fuckers been at them, tormenting them, they’ve been robbed of their spirit. Fuck me I’m dead as well. I’m stuck in this fucking corpse, I can’t get out! It’s that fucking leering bastard again. He’s got me pinned. The bastard’s tormenting me. Others of his like have been at me marras. If I could just get out of this fucking carcass, I’d finish the leering bastard. It’s as if I’m stuck in fucking cement. The bastards loving this. My fucking bodies dead and wont respond. he knows it, the twat. he knows that if he moves off me, I’m out of here. If I could just get out I’d be free of him forever, and he knows that too, and I’d do him before I go.
The fucker wants to devour my soul, he knows that I know it and he keep’s fucking leering at me because he thinks I’m fucking helpless. If I can’t punch the shit out of him, I’ll have to scare the shit out of him. I know, I’ll roar at him - mmmhhh…! uuggghrrr…! fuck me, my throat wont can respond, why should it, it’s dead, I’ll have to give it some more ‘uurgH!..aaarr!’ this is fucking pathetic! this twat isn’t getting me ‘Uuuggaarr…UUUROOAAAAA…R!’
Then I woke up. With the missus, very gentle and sympathetic, saying “ssshhhhh!..sshhhh!”. I explained that I was trapped and that the leering chap was tormenting me before he devoured my spirit. “How awful, darling!” says the missus “Would you like a cup of tea?”
Anyone else met this leering twat?:evil:
