Dream Journal Entry 2

First of all I'm in Iraq.

Now this makes sense for a couple reasons. At one point a few years back I found a help wanted ad online for an independent contractor in Iraq that was looking for computer janitors in the green zone. I semi-ironically applied, then semi-ironically did a phone interview with a recruiter, then semi-ironically filled out all the background check paperwork, then semi-ironically went through a second series of interviews until I finally realized this might not be such a good idea. Also, my current job at the US Census probably triggered some of these past memories.

So I'm in a cafe in the green zone in a hotel room and the scene is right out of Apocalypse Now. There is some debauchery going on in one corner involving some soldiers and some females of indeterminate ethnicity and age wearing short skirts (well not so much wearing as the skirts just hanging on for dear life). I'm just sort of sitting in the corner drinking and smoking with a few people from work and my 3rd grade math teacher (naturally). We're not really shocked or outraged at the depravity going on just a few feet away, we just observe them as if they are animals in a zoo. Suddenly a red phone I had not previously noticed rings.

I overhear a conversation going on between my bosses that I feel I am not supposed to be listening to. They're talking about who to send on the inspection today of the weapon stocks of the rebels. I interpret this to mean that I am not quite working for any government or contracted agency, but for a peacekeeping mission like the UN or something. Since I was recently promoted (both in the dream world and real life), they decide on me. I bust into the conversation and say that this is really not part of my job and I am woefully unprepared for this task. At this point their words turn into babbling and complete nonsense, mixed in with yelping and drooling. I take this to mean that my protestation is not going to be effective. I look down and realize that I am wearing some sort of steampunk IT hazard uniform.

I set aside my disgust for this god damn ridiculous uniform and put on a yellow flashing helmet that identifies me as a civilian. I run out to the caravan that is making it's way into the inspection zone. It's already in motion for some reason so I have to start running and reach out to grab an extended arm from the civilian armored car.

I don't remember anything about the ride there but as soon as I arrive at the weapons warehouse I am pushed out the door and the armored car speeds away. I am seized up by the rebels and ushered into their warehouse of weapons. They quickly begin holding up various things that make no sense at all. The first thing I see are floppy disks with the names of major cities on them.

At first I believe this is targeting data or something of the sort that may pose a major problem. I go to write this down and find out that I have no writing instrument nor paper or other material to write on at all. In my panic to record this, I look closer and see that the disks are not targeting data but encyclopedia articles on the various cities and subjects like math and biology.

The rebel leader, the only one that speaks english, then grabs me and shows me the actual weapons. They are down to the last few rockets and the only other things they have are some sort of godforsaken halberd combined with a pitchfork with a small rocket attached to it. I ask if they are going to try and launch this and they all start yelling like god damn lunatics. At this point they are really riled up, morphing into some sort of furious mob, lunging at me playfully/insanely with their weapons - feigning attacks and scaring the shit out of me. The only guy that could speak english is now some sort of three headed demon beast holding up weapons that have been welded together and fashioned out of ridiculous ingredients like fans and car parts.

I run like hell out of there and the caravan is once again close but moving away from me, I reach up and grab the hand

and I wake up.