I've been reading some of Lana's older posts on dreams, and it brought to mind a very vivid dream I had a few years back. It was one of those dreams where you're so deep in it, you aren't aware that you're dreaming, and you believe every bit of it to be real. Also, I was not myself in this dream, and it was all from my point of view, as if it was all happening right there for real.
I was walking with my people on a cold morning. It was just cold enough to see your breath. I couldn't see my own face, but my hair was as long as it is in waking life, though a bit darker. I think we were Celts or Picts from the way we were dressed...some had on rough kilts of a sort, or breeches. I had a kilt made of some kind of deerskin, I think, leather shoes , and straps of leather wrapped around my legs. I had leather arm braces, a roughspun shirt with a leather chestpiece over it, and I carried with me an axe made of dark iron, with a large single blade and a spiked backpiece, with a spike on top as well. My fellows were all armed with short swords, spears, axes, and such. We were going to take our place on a large hill. I knew that the enemy was coming, and our women and children were fleeing . Our intention was to buy them time to make their escape. We didn't really think we would win this battle, since our enemy outnumbered us...but we had to try, if for no other reason than to hold them up so our people could get away.
We didn't wait long after reaching the top of the hill, for we soon saw the enemy approaching. They were Romans, with their standards raised and trumpets blaring, their shiny armor, crested helmets , and bright red cloaks in stark contrast to our crew in our earth tones and lightly armored state. There were so many of them. We all looked at each other, some shook hands and patted shoulders while others nodded grimly to each other. I noted all this peripherally, for my main attention was on the approaching Roman army. I was fairly sure this would be my last day, but my fear dropped away as they drew nearer. I felt myself grow more enraged with their each approaching step. How dare these dogs invade our lands, kill our people, enslave our women and children, in the name of their "peace"? I gripped the shaft of my axe so tightly that my knuckles cracked. They may take my life today, I thought, but I'll take as many of them as I can with me. The space between our two groups grew smaller until they charged up the hill. I was in the front line , and I wanted it no other way. The first Roman ran up and held his large rectangular shield up as I swung my axe. I heard his arm snap , follwed by his scream of pain. He dropped his shield, and I swung my axe back around and planted it on the right side of his neck. He screamed even louder as his blood sprayed on me, hot in the cold morning air. I kicked him aside as the Roman behind him tried to stab me with his spear. I batted it aside and grabbed it, pulling him forward, so that he stumbled over his dying comrade. I split helmet and skull with my next swing. I threw the Roman spear into the throng swarming up the hill, grinning with satisfaction when it stuck into an armored chest. I struck the next Roman full in the face with the top spike of my axe. Screams , yells , and the smell of blood filled the air as I looked for my next victim, adrenaline and rage flowing through me...and at that point I woke up, sitting up in bed, sweating, looking around my room, wondering where the Hell I was and who the Hell I was.
A freind of mine swears that this was a past-life thing. I'm not sure, since I read history and fiction that deals with this sort of thing all the time. It may have just been my mind entertaining me in my sleep. All I know is that I wish the dream would have gone on a bit longer...I'm curious to see if I lived or died.
Dreams are strange...sometimes they make no sense, and other times they follow a "script" of sorts. Sometimes I know I'm dreaming , other times I don't. Sometimes I am myself, Scott, in my dreams, other times I'm someone else, like this Celtic/Pictish warrior. I think I'm going to start keeping a journal by the bedside to write dreams down in, so I remember them...although this is one I'll never forget.
MICKEY MOUSE In "The Mad Doctor" / Disney - 1933
7 hours ago