G.I. Randy

Last night, I dreamed that I was 19 and had enlisted in the Army with a group of friends. For some reason, we were sent to New York State for basic training. Also, we were given a list of all of the clothing we were allowed to bring, and were told that we must purchase that clothing from a particular store. That store was very small, and it had no walls. There were aisles and racks, just no walls or ceiling. There were only about 4 colors of polo shirts, and they were made of cheap fabric, but we all had to purchase 4 of them. The pants were from LLBean, and much nicer than the shirts. I realized that I had some LLBean pants at home, so I figured I would cheat and bring some from home, and therefore use my pants money to buy a fancy official NBA jersey. Now, IRL, I can count on my two hands how many NBA games I've watched, and I've never been to an NBA game. Nevertheless, I picked up what I thought was a New Orleans Hornets jersey. It turned out to be a Navy jersey. I decided it would get me beaten and harassed in the Army, so I didn't buy it.

My memory is a little hazy about what happens next, but, at some point, I'm in a darkened building with hallways going in several directions--much like some older LDS chapels. I crawled through a hole in the wall and into an area that was under construction. There, I saw one of my Army buddies, and we engaged in some one-on-one that would result in us being discharged were they to be discovered. It was like we wanted an insurance policy in case we wanted out. We snuck back into the main part of the building and followed our officers out as if nothing had happened.

Later on, I dreamed that DW and I were staying at the Clarion Hotel on Canal Street, and that we saw someone steal our car, which was a convertible Chevy Vega. Apparently, we had very bad taste. We hailed a cab and drove around looking for the car, but couldn't find it. Eventually, I saw it while I was on foot. I chased away the thieves and drove off in the car. At an interchange, a young African-American man jumped into the car and told me to drive towards the river on Canal. I realized that he wanted to kill me, and I recognized him as someone who had been acquitted of beating someone to death with a large beer bottle. He had a large beer bottle in his hand, so I asked him if he was going to kill me. We struggled momentarily over the bottle, and I grabbed it away from him. I started clubbing him over the head with the bottle, but he wouldn't get out of the car and make a run for it. I made it all the way back to the hotel, hitting him over the head the whole way. The kid was staggering in the street as I met DW at the hotel door, but he insisted that he was going to rob us. DW and I wandered around the hotel for a while, then went upstairs. I don't remember whether I called the police or not.

I seem to recall having a third dream, in which I took DW to East Germany for some reason, except E. Germany was the size of a small urban park. Very weird.