Soldier in Combat
The rain and wind tapered off this evening and ended sometime after midnight. I slept quite well and am aware of a number of dreams. One was of the wandering kind, where the scenes shift around. This included quite a few other people, various shower facilities, and who knows what else
In the last scene I was being shown through a fairly large house of wooden construction where someone had moved all the walls around, and generally had let it deteriorate a bit. The woman who occupied it was explaining where the walls were going to go when she fixed it up. You could still see where the walls had once been on the wooden floors.
In another sequence I was a (German ? ) soldier. I stood next to a concrete wall I knew could provide some shelter from a nuclear blast, but only if you were on the right side. Which side to be on? I stuck with the side I was on because there was a 6 foot by 6 foot, but not very thick, metal box like structure against the wall here that would provide minimal protection from the direction opposite the wall.
While inside this structure I felt trapped, because you could only go out the front. I could be crushed against the wall by a tank without being able to escape. For this reason, I felt it necessary to cause a small opening in the concrete wall I could crawl out through if so attacked.
When attack finally did come it was in the form of a single (American ?) soldier. I assigned his nationality by helmet style, although the new American helmet (1983) looks a lot like the German WWII form. He was dressed in combat fatigues with equipment and camouflage branches stuck under the straps.
I fended him off with various instruments, including a bottle which finally broke with me holding it by the neck. This made it a better weapon, but he also got one somewhere. Then I felt the stabs of jagged bottle edges from various directions where there was no-one, especially on my right hand. At this time I withdrew quickly from the dream. I noted the fingers of my left had were very lightly touching the place on my right hand where I had first felt the ghost bottle stabs.
There was a third dream where I was casually writing computer code in Pascal. It compiled without error - a dream for sure, and not a very realistic one. There were other dream sequences as well, but I am only aware of their existence, remembering nothing.