Blue_Opossum

Morning of July 18, 2020. Saturday.

Dream #: 19,570-02. Reading time (optimized): 2 min.



My waking-life identity is absent throughout this dreaming experience. My dream’s backstory emerges as an atypical narrative where I am pretending to be a high-ranking military officer. I have an unfamiliar younger male partner who is working with me. Even so, the outcome is to result in delivering something to a genuine naval ship or a high-ranking officer.

The narrative otherwise firstly links as a precursory factor to the usual instinctual summoning of imaginary kinaesthesia to vivify the dream state. In this case, the vehicle resembles a WWI US Standard B Liberty Army Truck, though with the driver’s side on the right. My partner and I are trying to convince an unknown civilian male to give us items from a research laboratory that relate to recent discoveries in molecular biology. He is uncertain if we are legitimate but decides to cooperate with us. He wants to ride with us as well, reflecting that he hoped he had put his trust in the right people.

My partner drives the truck as my dream vivifies, and night becomes day. The streets and high embankments are all white sand as we travel. At one point, the vehicle goes onto a small wooden raft, and it simultaneously takes us across a river as if the momentum of the truck put it in motion. We travel around for a few minutes on a battleship that has areas that make it appear more like a cargo ship.

The three of us stand outside a military base. A general walks out to greet us, and I salute him. He seems to recognize my partner and me but greets me as a “French pig.” I do not take it as an insult, but I am puzzled because I am supposed to be an American officer. The man we brought here does not seem to notice this contradiction. A private appears and will lead us to where we are to give what the other man took from the small town laboratory to the general.

My dream vivifies as imaginary kinaesthesia and physicality exponentially increase when I focus on my walking I try to maintain as a formal swagger.

We sit on what seems to be part of a dock. The general sits down farthest from the water’s edge. An unknown woman is nearby, and I consider I should show my identification. I intend to hold up my badge, but instead, hold my left hand up in a C shape as if holding an invisible one, as my summoning did not work. She does not say anything but appears slightly puzzled.

We give the general the item. It is a resealable sandwich bag containing chocolate chip cookies. After he eats one, he takes notice of one that is bigger and of a lighter color than the others. Baked within it is microfilm. He holds it up to the light and studies one section of exposed microfilm in a thinner area of the cookie. “This is what I expected,” he says, and thanks us.

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