This morning I woke up at 5:38 after a rousing Genghis Khan type dream.

What’s it mean? You tell me.

The dream wasn’t a long one. It started out before a battle. I was looking down into a small-ish valley, and the enemy was (apparently) on the other side of the valley on the hills there, even though I couldn’t see the enemy. My comrades and I made our way into the bottom of the valley and were looking up the other side. The other side was filled with trees (or something tree-like, I guess). So it was us, the trees, and then the apparent enemy. At that point, the enemy started up with their artillery. A couple of things to note at this point. This was apparently a battle in the 1200s or so. No guns or anything. And the “trees” were really, really thick.

My couchIn fact, it’s really a stretch for me to even call them trees. It was more like a wall. Amazingly enough, this wall looked incredibly like the back of my couch. When the bad stuff started coming in, I dove below the edge of the wall/couch so that the incoming projectiles were being blocked by the couch-type thingy. The projectiles were like pikes. They were round, straight sticks about an inch and half in diameter with a pointed end. Probably 6-8 feet long. They came flying in in large numbers. I was briefly reminded of the scene in Braveheart when the arrows come in and go through the guy’s shield and kill him. These pikes came flying in, killing people behind me that weren’t behind the wall (probably 3 feet high). So I was laying there. These pikes were coming in. When they would impact the “wall” they would go through it far enough to poke out the fabric on the backside (next to where I was laying) but didn’t actually come through and cut me.

Not a pleasant situation, and my future clearly wasn’t that bright.

Drawing of sack of oil
This continued for a little while. We were very pinned down. At this point, I saw some hands reaching out over the wall above me. They were hold red flexible sacks (probably about a foot high) that were “pooched” out a little bit in the bottom, as though full of liquid. The sack said “OIL” on it in big white letters. My guess is that it was hot. The hands turned the sack over…

and that’s when I woke up at 5:38 this morning.

It’s incredibly rare for me to have a dream. So rare that I decided to blog about this one. Let’s see. Background information from yesterday… Nothing exciting happened. Didn’t watch any war movies, don’t remember reading about anything like this. I have no idea where the thoughts came from.

Interesting thing, dreams.. Joseph, where are you?

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