Last night, I dreamt Anne and I arrived at a Los Angeles area Ritz Carlton hotel, with our sons and their families soon to join us.
When we arrived, there was inexpensive parking a long distance away and many hotel guests were using it, but nearby parking was $36 a night and valet parking was $47 a night. At first I got upset because Anne insisted we use the valet parking, and I was determined to go negotiate that price with the hotel management.
But then all of sudden we heard the U.S. was launching yet another war and we saw hundreds of young men and women in Army fatigues and helmets rushing off to where they were to gather to be deployed. As I looked at all these young people, I felt so petty for being concerned about a trivial cost of parking, while they were about to put their lives on the line.
I knew many of them would be killed or severely injured, and most of them would suffer some form of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, and that our nation would pay the price for this war for decades to come. As I began to awake, my mind was filled with anxiety, as I put myself in the position of their families who would worry constantly for their loved ones in battle.
And I thought of the "enemy," all the people the U.S. would be trying to kill and all those caught in the middle who would be killed or severely injured. And yet there was no clear picture of who this "enemy" is or even which nation this would be.
Despite having Anne snuggled and sleeping up against me, a feeling I love, I had to calm myself, knowing this was only a dream. But was it really a dream or a reflection of reality?
Dick
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