I had one of my "soldier" dreams again last night. I searched this morning and found the picture above. It is quite reminiscent of the way soldiers were dressed in my dream, but the color scheme was utterly different. In my dream the uniforms were black-based with an orange-yellow uniform coat with gold piping and trim.
I was walking, just walking and not marching, next to a man on horseback. They both looked remarkably bedraggled. It was dark, but not yet full night. As we walked the man asked me questions. He wanted to know the location of this group or that, the status of something, the progress of something else. Between staccato inquiries from him, men ran up to me, saluted, and reported various things, some of which the "general" or whoever he was then asked me about.
I don't know what I looked like but I do remember fairly explicitly how the General looked. He was tall, too big for the horse he was on. He wore a flat cap of some sort and his uniform was extremely dirty and in disarray. He had bushy eyebrows and sunken eyes. He had raccoon eyes, a broad, pointed nose, and a bushy mustache. His sideburns were long as well. His mouth was a narrow slit across his face and as he rode, he kept his lips pressed tightly together. I remember him having an oddly high-pitched voice. Altogether he was not the picture one summons to mind when thinking "general."
There was no doubt that he was in charge, a column of men, six wide, walked behind him. While not precisely marching, they kept to rank and file expertly and tended to be in step. At least that was the case near the front of the lines, I looked back and the farther away from the general the troops were, the more lax they seemed. Picture of a demoralized army.
The questions kept coming, some seemed relevant, others a bit bizarre. I remember him asking if there were any night-flying birds. I also remember thinking "This man is going to get us all killed."
Our column of men continued along the road we were on for a long time. It was full dark when I saw that we were in a long, long valley and felt that we were walking downward. As the moon rose, I could see that the valley came to an end ahead of us. As we approached the area widened out and the road became much more level, wider, and solid.
At the end of the valley, the General held up a hand and the column slowly came to a halt. In front of us, the road, now wider than our 6-abreast column descended steeply. I could see in ramping downward for easily two miles in a straight unbroken descent. The moonlight lit it making it seem like a waterfall.
We stood there, looking at a broad plain far below, moonlit very brightly. The General asked me "Where is this?" but didn't wait for an answer. He waved everyone forward and started down the road.
My dream ended there. Another pointless meandering dream. Oh well.
I saw one of my favorite movies this morning. I have it on disk and never put it in the DVD, but when it is broadcast, I can't not watch it. Dragonwyck is a Vincent Price costume drama. I'm a sucker for costume dramas and for anything with Vincent Price in it.
The day was blustery. That was appropriate given the feverish pitch of the election season. Politicians blustered, their supporters blustered, their detractors blustered, and, on every street corner, the citizenry opined at hi volume in blustery fashion.
Only the wind was of much concern to me. I was wearing a light jacket and my favorite hat. It was old and worn to near-shapelessness, an old felt fedora with a high crown. I loved that hat.
Passing one of the citizenry I mentioned that was out in force this election day, opining heatedly on street corners, I was accosted. "Who ya gonna vote for?" he asked me, stepping into my path.
"I don't vote when there's nobody to vote for, only against," I said and tried to step around
He headed me off and said, "Your attitude stinks!"
"It's my attitude and I'm taking it with me," again I tried to step around.
"Pfffhht!" and he reached up to knock my hat off. The wind took it, twirled it into the air and precipitated it into the street.
I trod heavily on his foot as I headed off after my hat, but the wind was playful. It scooted the hat into traffic and the first car to pass over it whipped it into the air and into the center of the road straddling the yellow line precisely.
Traffic was heavy. Fortunately, so was the hat. Passing cars weren't blowing it about. If I could just get to it I dodged forward.
Oncoming traffic screeched to a halt. Well, everyone squealed tires and slowed a bit. I don't think anyone actually stopped. But I found myself standing on the yellow line, between two lines of traffic dusting the road grime off my hat brim. Success!
I dodged through traffic once more and, reaching the curb, set my hat firmly on my head again.
"If you were a voter, none of that would have happened!"
I reached down, grabbed his belt buckle, opened it, and whipped his belt from around his waist. I paused a moment while he blustered at me then pitched the belt into the bed of a passing truck.
I said nothing as I walked away, but if I had to make a statement to someone I would have said, "Most enjoyable election day so far!"