For more than a decade now–since a couple of years after I got out of the Army–I’ve experienced variations of this recurring nightmare. At first, it was of the reaching the finish line and not being done variety: the kind where you are in high school, except you’re the age you are in waking life, and there’s this one class you didn’t take. You’re not actually done with high school. And usually–maybe this is just me–the high school has gotten larger, and you can’t find that one class you still need to take, and you start thinking: well, I’m thirty-five years old now. Is going back to high school worth it? Should I just forget about it and try to get on with my life?
The Army dreams were like that at first. They’d messed up my paperwork. I still had to do one more mission. Except I haven’t shaven in weeks. I can’t find any uniforms. I’m gluing name tapes onto a borrowed uniform that doesn’t fit. I’m hiding in a wall locker full of black wool socks to escape detection and chastisement.
I mean, I’m aware what a Freudian would make of all this, but the me in the dream doesn’t know about Freud. I’m not one of those lucid dreamers, mostly.
Then I started getting more agency in the Army dreams. This was probably five years ago. Like, I’m still twenty pounds heavier than I was in the Army, and haven’t shaved, but I don’t give as much of a shit. I show up to formation. We go on a mission. Things usually get weird. I don’t wake up with a crawfull of terror.
I still have dreams about dipping Copenhagen, though. Usually if I forget to brush my teeth before bed. You can’t smoke in the field, and you don’t sleep a lot in the field, and Copenhagen–well, it’s the Mainlining Heroin of Tobacco Products.
That shit sticks with you, I guess.
