[Southern_Cross]

This is my first time posting, and I registered so I could post this. Please give me your feedback and your interpretations. I am in the Army, or was, and now I’m in the National Guard. I am at home, I am employed, and I am healthy. I am happily married with kids. I have no post-deployment issues to speak of (nothing that compares to what others have gone through). I travel some for work. My military career has been good so far, and I get along well with my wife and kids. Work is okay, and we’re doing okay financially. I can’t say we've got any real problems other than that I have not really made any super close friends since I got out of the Army, but that is often the case. I keep up with the guys I know in the Guard from time to time (I have to go to another town more than an hour away for drills and training). My wife loves it here and she would be crushed if we moved. My kids like it here too; good school, good church, low crime, low cost of living, good neighbors, it is a good place to be. Things were generally good, and then I had this dream about three weeks ago, and then I had it again last night. Here it is.

I’m in the airport; it is not one I recognize, and I've been in many airports. It’s a big one, an international airport. I’m in my uniform, the modern Army Combat Uniform (ACU), which is funny because that is the uniform I got in the National Guard. I actually came in the Army when the Battle Dress Uniform (BDU) was still being used, and wore that one for a long time. I look all around and I see people milling about, some happy, some sad, some confused. I seem to know where I’m going, and it is hard to explain just how huge this place is, and I am looking at signs in a language I don’t know but seem to be able to read. I follow the signs to a check-in terminal and I realize they just let me through security. I guess it was because of my uniform. The place is well - lit and bright. There are other people following me who are trying to go through but the guards (in police-type uniforms) won’t let them in. They let another soldier in (a woman wearing a BDU) I look at my ticket and look up; she smiles and waves at me, and I wave back as she says something I can’t quite hear and then turns to walk down the terminal to a gateway. I remember thinking that I thought all the BDU’s were out of service by now and that we had to wear ACU’s but I guess I was wrong. I wave as she departs. I look at my tickets and they are written in that language I can’t understand but I can read. The paper is strong, thick, and it looks like it is of a very fine quality. The edges are parchment or something like that. The ink is deep and black, like it was hand-drawn. I have a backpack over one shoulder for some reason and I realize that security did not check it. I look back and I see the officers there pointing away, telling me to continue on. They are not harsh, but they are telling me in a firm, friendly voice that I don’t want to be there in a few minutes. I go to my gate via the directions given to me in the ticket I hold. As I walk there the terminal is not like a mini-mall, like in most major airports, but it is like an ancient city. The walls are old stone, the floor is worked tile, and the ceiling is vaulted and marble. As I approach the counter for check-in I saw works of art from every culture I could imagine and many that I cannot remember as I write this. Music was playing, and fountains ran majestically in the background. I looked around and wondered if I had accidentally wandered into some old train station, and the man behind the counter looked up at me as I approached and seemed to notice that I was puzzled. He motioned me over to him and held out his hand; I gave him my ticket. He was that stereotype older white guy in the blue conductor’s uniform/airport service blue uniform. He looked at me and smiled politely and knowing.

“You are in the right place, Captain.” He said simply, “and I see that you are traveling light. That is good, no need to try to take all of it with you. You can leave that bag over there and have a seat and wait for boarding. We’re still waiting on some of the others.” He pointed to an area by the wall where there were a number of personal bags of all sorts; some leathers, some canvas, some large, some small, some newer, some antique, but like mine, all worn.

The old man continued, “Then go over there and have a seat, if you like.” He pointed to an area around a corner. “We’ll call you when it’s time. In the meantime there’s refreshments for you, and you may get to see some of your old friends.”

I thanked him but was unable to really speak. He smiled and nodded. He let me through the rope, I put down my bag, and I went around the corner to find several rows of airport-style waiting seats, televisions, a buffet table, drink station, game tables, and so on; it was a well-stocked reception area. Then I stopped in my tracks.

A large black man in an old-style Army uniform from the late 1960’s stood up and called me by name. He wore the rank of a Master Sergeant and I felt that I knew him, and that I had missed him like a brother. He called out in a booming voice and announced to the room that I just showed up, and a smaller white man with red hair came up wearing a WWI army uniform, calling my name. An Asian man wearing BDU’s came around the side of the chairs but I could not see his rank and he called my name. Another man also wearing that 1960’s uniform and captain’s rank slapped me on the shoulders and welcomed me in a loud Spanish accent; it was clear to me that I recognized his voice. More and more men and women in uniforms, some of them from the turn of the 19th century, came over, all ages, all ranks, all uniforms, even ACU’s, and they ushered me into the waiting area. Many voices, many accents, they all seemed so familiar to me, but later I could not place a single face or voice. The first man to greet me came over, and I felt like I knew him my whole life. He was somehow closer to me, like a brother. Let me emphasize that he was big. I’m a very tall man, 6’ 6” and athletic, and he was every bit as tall and then some. He smiled a very big smile and looked me in the face; it was a welcoming kind of smile. I remember feeling like I had come home. They all knew me, and this was the most welcoming place I had ever been, and we were all waiting to take a trip.

After that I woke up with this feeling of loss, wishing I could go back there and be with them and go where they were going.

[Thunder Bow]

Thank You for sharing such a wonderful dream! It is all about You Who Are and where you are in life. I too, felt good while reading your post, as it reminded me of some of my favorite Native American stories, believe it or not.

Your dream says you are feeling good about yourself and life, and that your personality is well intergrated. You are Emotionaly mature.

The feeling of loss is that you have left some of your emotional baggage behind. You are now yearning to continue your life journey. The link I placed below you may like and may even have a connection to:

http://www.cavalia.net/en/odysseo/videos

Sincerely;

Gerald TallTree

[Southern_Cross]

Thank you for sharing your wisdom with me, and thank you for your offer of friendship. This dream really bothered me the first time, and the second time it really shook me. I'm not the sort to have repeating dreams but I do have active and vivid dreams. Even now when I re-read that post I am still overcome. It is hard to admit for an old soldier like me, but it is the truth. Your interpretation gives me comfort. I was afraid it this dream meant that I was missing something or that I was never going to find my way home again. I've been lost before and I did not like it.

Thank you for the link. I will spend time going through it and I am sure I will like its contents. I am always looking for connections, and I believe they are everywhere waiting to be discovered or identified.

Peace,

Eric

[Thunder Bow]

Your dream does show you found your way home and you know who you are. Always go with your Heart!