Spam, spam, contemplation and spam.
Jun. 16th, 2005 04:36 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
themeletorI just remembered this.
But, it was all there, in startling way-too-close intensity, as though the small numbers just made it a higher concentration... does that make any sense? I suppose not. I remember, though, distinctly, the images. Two rows of soldiers, facing off, in ... in my garage. They were in full uniform, all ages. Some were boys only as old as my brother or a little older; some were weathered, weary, gaunt and harried men who had been through it so many times before. Two of them, boys about my age, were brothers. The uniforms ... they were Continentals on one side and British on the other. I stood with the British. The two brothers were on opposite sides. They faced eachother not five feet apart. About... a dozen or so to a line. At either end, like at the head and foot of a banquet table, there was a three-pounder, facing in toward the middle. If I looked from the breech of one, I could see into the muzzle of the other. And all I remember thinking is that this wasn't, as it seems now, a garage-reenactment. It was the real thing. I was convinced of it.
I've had a few other dreams related to these historical obsessions, and one that I can recall quite clearly, but it was silly and involved me marching up to Captain Jack Aubrey and informing him that his coat was historically inaccurate -- it was short a button. At the time it was all entirely serious to me, of course, as dreams are, but as soon as I woke it was ridiculous.
But this wasn't one of those. Once 'Fire!' was called, I remember watching in horror from my place in the lines, and then collapsing onto the ground in tears, just sobbing. One of the soldiers, one of the brothers, the one in Continental uniform, told me not to stop crying, and that I would get used to it. I think that's what stays the most clearly in my mind. "Keep crying. You'll get used to it. We all have."
...It was... eerie. Not a nightmare.
I don't know what it was.
It broke my heart, and at the same time was... can I say... comforting? I shouldn't be able to.
I don't get it.
But I think I needed to tell it.
Thanks for humoring me, as I probably just ate some bad brownies before bed, or something.
But, it was all there, in startling way-too-close intensity, as though the small numbers just made it a higher concentration... does that make any sense? I suppose not. I remember, though, distinctly, the images. Two rows of soldiers, facing off, in ... in my garage. They were in full uniform, all ages. Some were boys only as old as my brother or a little older; some were weathered, weary, gaunt and harried men who had been through it so many times before. Two of them, boys about my age, were brothers. The uniforms ... they were Continentals on one side and British on the other. I stood with the British. The two brothers were on opposite sides. They faced eachother not five feet apart. About... a dozen or so to a line. At either end, like at the head and foot of a banquet table, there was a three-pounder, facing in toward the middle. If I looked from the breech of one, I could see into the muzzle of the other. And all I remember thinking is that this wasn't, as it seems now, a garage-reenactment. It was the real thing. I was convinced of it.
I've had a few other dreams related to these historical obsessions, and one that I can recall quite clearly, but it was silly and involved me marching up to Captain Jack Aubrey and informing him that his coat was historically inaccurate -- it was short a button. At the time it was all entirely serious to me, of course, as dreams are, but as soon as I woke it was ridiculous.
But this wasn't one of those. Once 'Fire!' was called, I remember watching in horror from my place in the lines, and then collapsing onto the ground in tears, just sobbing. One of the soldiers, one of the brothers, the one in Continental uniform, told me not to stop crying, and that I would get used to it. I think that's what stays the most clearly in my mind. "Keep crying. You'll get used to it. We all have."
...It was... eerie. Not a nightmare.
I don't know what it was.
It broke my heart, and at the same time was... can I say... comforting? I shouldn't be able to.
I don't get it.
But I think I needed to tell it.
Thanks for humoring me, as I probably just ate some bad brownies before bed, or something.
