Army and Arnica

I saw another weird dream.

There were American soldiers on Estonian soil and we had to accommodate them for a while. I was a teacher in a local school, not far from my home. I was living in countryside and my small farm was used for nature studies, like open air class room. It was early summer, but very warm. We were teaching a small 5th grade how to plant simple things – some grass and green onion with multiple bulbs grown together like huge bulb.

Because the army soldiers were there, all neatly dressed for fieldwork, I put them at work, showing kids how to shovel manure from its holding place, help dig out the roots, etc. They were housed at homes and I had punch of higher rank ones, all dressed in desert suits. I felt like they were there for over a year and by now they had stayed the first month.

One, who looked like Jeremy Renner (‘cause the man looks good, when suited up? Interesting choice for a dream) had different sort of stripes – blue drop in the bottom and three as triangle on top. He was joking around until one of the students found his notebook of a sort. It was like a normal tiny books with electronic pages in between.  The boy opened it up and got very excited for one page of map and many little dots on it. “It’s a game!” he shouted quickly, cleaned his hands from dirt he was distributing from the repository and ran to the small boy to take it back. “It’s more advanced.” He gave him one of his by now signature smiles and took it from him. I thought it was odd, but I was busy helping one girl put grass seeds in the flowerbed and another sergeant was helping little girl with the bulbs. We were busy.

Next scene was inside the house. Because those guys needed desks and I didn’t have many, but I had a old type built-in-bookshelves sort of school desk, he was sitting behind that one, small lamp lightning his works in dark room. Another one’s desk was against the other wall. Somehow they even managed to put beds back in that room so both of them could sleep there.

I was cleaning the place up, gathering what was left over from the kids in the kitchen and came upon the same notebook. I was sleeping in another room, but I guess I was taking it back to their room, because I sat down on his bed and curiously opened it up. He was so occupied with his work on the other side of the bookshelf that he hadn’t even noticed.

I happened on the same page, it sort of opened up, when you opened the book, too heavy compared with others I guess. It opened up and I was presented with the same game-thing. “Ha! So that was the game? Advanced? Hardly! (You must forgive me, I am superb at screwing brother’s games by going over his keyboard should he ever not pay attention if called)” I thought and slammed my fingers on it. First, one small button at a time in some The Dead Sea region. I saw, as if shown on video, how bombs landed there, but I didn’t know it at time. Then I moved to Europe and landed punch of fingers there, playing some dramatic Mozart on them, when suddenly whole hell broke loose. The earth shook, the sound was horridly wrong and ear breaking.

I think it had to be few months later, because it was late summer and I saw in quick look how the bulbs grew and blossomed like normal onions and the grass grew. Suddenly there was a lot of commotion and I was called to director’s office. Some of the children had got poisoned and the doctors said it was Arnica. I said I wasn’t growing any in my garden, but we went to check anyway. We took out all the bulbs and saw small rhizome going around them and realized that when the guys had cleaned it, their clothes had carried seeds from their previous  place and those gut planted with them. I was really angry, shocked and crying, because out of all the stretch of nerves, that was last I expected – to unwittingly be poisoning the children, because I insisted those guys make themselves useful around here. They even sent some higher ranking officer to me to convince me that it is vital that I let them stay until end of their “visit”.

Next I saw both of the men take cover lower under the table and slamming all sorts of exploitative themselves. I was really surprised, still going on with the fingers. I feared nothing in this house – those monastery thick walls had survived two World Wars, I had no doubt they would survive this one, if not hit directly. But it was intriguing to watch two grownup men fear it. But the racking outside continued.

“Who the hell would attack us here?” the other guy shouted. He counted several bombs by names, calling one Big 16.

Renner-guy said there should come MA 20 next. “We have bigger problems! Someone just brought half our staff down on Europe!”

I was still holding the notebook, eyes big, when I quietly climbed under the table next to them and handed him back his notebook. He took it, shocked, realizing it might have been me, quickly checking the notebook, but there were no lights shining there and he breathed easier. But the wrecking outside continued, but suddenly, it not being presented to me anymore like bombs, I recognized the sound.

I quickly climbed back up and pulled out of their reach, laughing.

“What the hell?” he demanded.

I pulled the curtain away, presenting them with the huge green truck emptying our garbage pin.

“You deserved it!” I announced and walked out of the two huge eyed soldiers. Leaving his notebook to lay around like that! What was he thinking?!

Woke up to garbage truck emptying our pins :D. But it still makes me laugh, the faces they regarded me back. Honestly!

Oh, and if that gives you ideas for a notebook, soldiers – think again. It terrified me that something like that even existed, because it was too easy to lose it or it to happen on some child’s hand.


Leave a comment

Filed under In English

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s