Dear Julius: Riding those mares into the night...you are a vivid dreamer as well as an excellent writer. Thank you for the night ride. :)
Peace.......Sharon "J. R. Mills" wrote: > > I've just woken up in a cold sweat from a war dream, the type of which I've been >afflicted by since the September 11th attack. In this one I was a spy who had somehow >infiltrated the Al Qaeda organization and had befriended Osama bin Laden and gained >his confidence to garner intelligence for the U.S. and the Allies. > > In the dream I was hunkered down with his personal guard somewhere in the >Afghanistan mountains and was desperate to get the hell out of that terrorist camp to >report back his location to my superiors in time for the war effort. I was also >living in fear that I would be discovered and brutally killed, as I had observed the >Al Qaeda and Taliban murder so many Afghanistan youth who had refused to join their >militia since I had infiltrated the army. > > At one point there was a fire fight, like I had seen video of during the Iraq war. >It was pitch dark, but ordinance lit up the black of night. I took that opportunity >to beat a hasty retreat on horseback in the confusion. > > At that point in the dream, as I was riding like the wind, all I could hear was the >heavy, rhythmic breathing of my trusty steed and the clop, clop of his hooves against >hard ground as he ran in full gallop for my dear life. That and my own pounding >heartbeat. > > I turned around to look, and sure enough, the Al Qaeda was hot on my trail with >Soviet made AK-47 rifles poised to fire. I could see the breath of their horses in >the evening chill and could hear the angry Arabic shouts of "Get the infidel! Get >him! Kill him!" > > Good thing it was dream, 'cause just as they were closing in on me the horse took >flight like Pegasus...like it was a Steven Spielberg movie or something. But I >wasn't out of the woods yet...the Taliban soldiers chasing me had some damn "stinger" >missiles that the U.S. had supplied them with years ago to fight the Soviet invasion. > I looked back in flight and could see the tracers of one headed right for us. Horse >and I dodged for all we were worth, but it was a heat-seeker and we were hit hard. > > We dropped out of the sky like a rock, like you fall in dreams when you realize >"hey, I'm flying." We fell to Earth somewhere in a thicket, but not far from the >pursuing mob. I looked down and my left leg had been blown off, leaving a bloody >stump. The horse was near death, bleeding from the neck. I just hugged him, >thanking him when he looked at me with a rolled back eye and drew his last breath, >exhaling visibly. > > I thought I was done for, but just then a woman gallops up on horseback, her dark >tresses flying in the wild wind. There was a tattered American flag draped over the >hind quarters of her horse. She reached down and with one hand pulls me onto her >horse, saying "Quit your crying! This mission isn't over yet!." > > Her horse reared back on it's hind quarters and whinnied loudly as the rider >whispered something in her ear and we took off in a dusty haze, riding fast, like we >were on the horse in the Frances ford Coppola movie "Black Stallion." I held on >tight around her waist lest I fall off. I was biting my lip hard trying to fight >back the worsening pain of my leg wound. > > That's when I woke up. > > I'm still shaking. I guess that's what I get for falling asleep with CNN on the >telly. > > -Julius
