Dear Dreams... WTF?

Our mortars couldn't hit shit, and our captain let us know about his frustration before he forged

Image by knurdle via Flickr

his own makeshift latrine beyond the first treeline of the woods to our six. I looked at her, a stern look that told her I'd trained her better than what her performance had showed on this day. The smell of launched ordnance burned my nostrils. The fact that we'd not hit our targets was going to burn my ass if we couldn't get it right. We adjusted our angles, fired... WHAM! An enemy cannon turned to junk on impact. Readjusted for a new target... WHAM! A squad of army men wobbled, then rolled down the length of the fallen log where they'd been placed... direct hit... we raised out arms in celebration as our Captain returned from the woods and asked, "What'd I miss?"

Dibble-dee-doo.
Dibble-dee-doo.
Dibble-dee-doo.

I was about to say something to a friend when he impatiently stood up from his stool at the bar and walked off, presumably, toward the restroom. Conversation continued with those that remained, though I know not what we spoke of. Before he returned, another friend came and sat in his place; it wasn't a welcome surprise, for we'd had words in our past. He held out his hand, without saying a word, nodded his head as if waiving the white flag, then offered his hand once again...

Dibble-dee-doo.
Dibble-dee-doo.
Dibble-dee-doo.

I reached across the bed to find nothing but emptiness. The normally cool covers--cool because there wasn't often a body to warm them--still held the heat from her body. I was too tired to use all five senses, so I focused on listening to see if I could hear her in the house. Nothing. Damn. Not again. I faded back into sleep. A few hours later, I was startled by a closing door. Oddly, I was awake enough to jump out of bed and see if she was still in the house. A toilet stool was still running, so I pulled the lid and corrected its state. In the kitchen, wisps of steam rose from a full cup of coffee and the crust from a piece of whole grain toast sat on a plate next to it. She wasn't to be found. With my hands on the cold marble countertop, I contemplated what I'd done to cause her to break one of my most important rules: whenever we meet or part, we must hug and peck. Had she done so in my sleep and I'd missed it? Doubtful. I don't sleep heavily as I approach morning, so I'm usually aware of my surroundings. I wouldn't have missed the affection. So, I slipped on my trainers and went out for a pre-dawn walk. It was a long one, miles in fact, and I somehow I ended up sitting in the yard across from her house... I longed for one glimpse of her, I'd missed that glimpse before she left. I need one now because it felt like it might be the last one I'd ever get. She sat in her car, engine still running, parked in her driveway, as if she wasn't sure that she wanted to go into the house... like going into her house meant that she would be making a decision that she could never change once it was made. She'd left my bed, that was one life, and inside of her own door was another life. There was no way to live them both; she had to choose.

She had to choose! I jumped up from my seat and ran up to the curb across the street from her. Fortunately, I wasn't so blind as to run out into traffic. Though it was a residential neighborhood, the street was presently home to a constant stream of cars, attempting to cross would have been detrimental to my health. I could see her. I screamed her name, but nothing I said could overcome the pitch-varied drone of passing automobiles.

And then, I woke up. I only slept four hours last night, and the entire time was fraught with these intense segments. Oddly, I feel rested, but I doubt that will last long before I have to slip back under the covers.

I need to make progress on the challenges in my life before these dreams get any more stressful.

Dear Dreams... WTF?