Death Squad 21 (part 1)
Level of Lucidity: N/A Level of Cohesiveness:
Rating:
Lucid Intent? No
This dream has been viewed 177 times.
A little background about this...
...Ok so I have been having a couple of dreams over the years about an uprising in Tibet. This one is the lastest one, (which I havent had one in a couple of years) and I suspect will not be the last, since the ones I have had before come in a story like way, with each new dream building upon events of the one before it. I have no idea if this is normal, or if this happens to anyone else, but i would like to know if this happens to anyone else.
Now I have to say that this could be confusing as it is a continuation of a previous dream, so I'm sorry if parts of it as well as chacters do not make sense to you, but anyway, on to the dream...
It starts with me lying on the ground. I am on my back, looking up at the sky. It is clear and peaceful, with only a few clouds hanging there. I am partially blinded by the sun. To silhouettes appear over me and reach down to grab me. They each get a hold of my arms and are dragging me up to my feet. As they do so, I lose my grip on my AK47, and it falls to the ground. One of the guys pulling me up (who I now recognize as soldiers of the Chinese army) reaches into my waistband, and removes form it my pistol. I feel a great loss as he does so. That pistol was given to me, by Kai, the greatest man I had fought with, and a hero of the Tibetan uprising. Kai is like a brother to me and by relinquishing his pistol, I feel that I have let him down in the most dishonorable way; by not dying with it in my hand, shooting until I was out of ammunition, the way he had. The two soldiers dragged me to a command car and threw me inside of it. Waiting inside, was a Chinese officer.
“You are the last one of your unit, what is it you’re called… Death Squad 21? Anyway since you are the last surviving member, I, as ordered by the Supreme Leader, need you to tell me how your rag tag band of militia men was able to inflict such disorder and casualties among a force that out numbers you so greatly.”
He said all of this in accented but very clear English. I looked at him and did not say anything.
“You must understand,” he went on, “that The Supreme Leader of The People’s Republic of China is not mad at you, as one would think, he is merely puzzled by how such misfortune has come to him at such and untimely hour, by such an unlikely group.”
Again I said nothing, but looked past him, where I could see out of the car’s window, to the valley in which our so called “unlikely group” had made such a distraction and disturbance that for the past three years, China could not get a hold of territory that it felt was theirs. We felt it was Tibet’s and dug fighting positions on one side of the valley, while the Chinese took the other side. As I looked out the window, I couldn’t help be feel, that I needed to tell the officer what had happened. It was almost like I could feel the thoughts of my dead comrades. They wanted me to share how they died and to tell the world of their struggle. Of our struggle. Of the Tibetan’s struggle. So strong was this feeling that I gave in, and agreed to tell the story. I mention to the officer that I could not speak for every member of Death Squad 21, but only for myself, and I would only be able to tell the story of this from my point of view only. Upon hearing this information, the officer was greatly pleased, and he eagerly produced a notebook and a pen. After I mentioned that in order to understand how we functioned so well as a fighting unit, I must start form the very beginning, as it was appropriate to set up all the details, to best answer the questions. With his understanding of this, I was instructed to start where I pleased and was kindly asked to recall as much detail as I could remember.
“Well,” I began, “as a boy, I had always wondered what it felt like to be shot.”
Thats where I woke up, and wondered what the hell just happened.
Additional Comments:
I actually liked this dream. I woke up with a very intresting feeling, sort of a mix of joy, proudness and honor, which lasted until the confused feeling of what that dream was about, took over.
