Feb 13, 2010

Gunny Dreams

Some people remember their dreams, some don't. Some dreams stay with you, others fade quickly.

I've heard numerous anecdotes about shooters having the "gun fail" dreams. I always thought it was a little weird, but since when do dreams make sense?

Well, now I've had those dreams two nights in a row.

Dream One:
I'm at home (which is remarkably similar, but not identical, to our house) and head outside to do some chores. There is, for whatever reason, an unusually large rabbit (as in labrador-retriever size; that's no ordinary rabbit!) in the goat pen. It's a long shot - 30 yards - since the only thing I have is my usual CCW, the 642. And, obviously, a +P .38 is overkill for rabbits, right? Well, I decide to try to stalk closer and take a chance on ruining some meat. But when I get around the corner of the garage, I see the rest of the pen is full of oversize critters too. E.g., a porcupine nearly the same size as the rabbit, but with the coloration and smell of a skunk. (Yes, I sometimes have smells in my dreams.) Well, that waddles off the other direction, and now the rabbit is a clear close shot. So I draw my pistol, and flip the cylinder open to check my loads - and drop all five rounds on the ground.

I kneel down to pick up the cartridges, and as I pick them up, the bullet falls off a couple of them. I pick up the bullets and jam them back on over the powder (which didn't fall out), but some of them are now seated backwards or at weird angles. So be it. I stand up and the rabbit is gone, so I start to re-chamber the cartridges.

A car pulls into the driveway. A scuzzy-looking older guy gets out (stringy/greasy gray hair, five or six days of stubble, stained undershirt, nasty flannel shirt, beat-to-death green carhartt jacket. He sees the pistol still in my hand and kinda startles, as I jam it into a jacket pocket and give him an embarassed smile. He starts in about needing directions, and would give me some gas for my truck if I could give him directions to somewhere. I told him I didn't need gas, but let me go find a map.

I go inside, shut the door behind me, and go upstairs to get a map. I come back down and the teakettle is whistling. Odd, because I didn't put the kettle on. And the door is open. I see the guy now standing in the living room looking over our stuff. I suggest he wait outside and I'll be right there. He argues, I tell him he's gotta go RIGHT NOW. He argues. I draw my pistol but keep it pointed down, and repeat that he needs to leave. He goes out the door, and I go turn the kettle off. I grab the map and head outside to give him his directions (yeah, I know, what?).

He's halfway to his car, and I say something to him about getting his directions. He keeps walking and starts digging in the car, and I keep walking towards him with the map. He comes back around the car, but now he's got his own gun - a nickel 3" S&W Model 36, if my dream-eyes were right. I drop the map and draw down on him, but he keeps walking. I'm shouting that he needs to drop it and leave, but he keeps walking towards me. He brings his gun up when he's about six feet from me, and I ducked under and stepped into the arm, bringing my own gun right up into his rib cage. My finger was tightening on the trigger as I felt something hit my own head...

... and I woke up, shaky and dripping sweat. First thing I did? Reached to where I keep my pistol and checked the loads. They were fine. :)

Dream Two:
I had been stationed on an island of some sort. Wasn't in the military, but I was on a military base, on a damn tiny island, and I was the only one there. The name for the island was Ewa or Eywa or something like that, and it was in the South Atlantic. (I looked, there isn't.) I was trying to get a very old radio working so I could get a message out somewhere. This very old radio, however, looked a lot like a Dewalt worksite radio. In any case, I got the radio working, and got an answer telling me to look out for a raid.

Sure enough, no sooner had I gotten the message than a boat (which looked suspiciously like the dinner cruise boat at our local waterfront) pulled up to the pier in front of the building I was in, and a group of soldiers (Asian, possibly Japanese?) started looking for me. Except they were armed with Mosin-Nagants. I took cover, and pulled out my pistol (yep, that same 642 that failed me the night before!)... one of them opened the door to the room I was in, and I aimed and shot. The gun went bang, and he fell over, so I ran to him to take the rifle - except he stood up and rubbed his forehead where the bullet had hit him without penetrating. Aw, crap!

I pointed the gun and pulled the trigger again, except now the trigger pull was zero - it went all the way back without doing anything. No resistance, no cylinder rotation, no click, no bang. So I pistol-whipped the guy, took his rifle away, and went to hide somewhere else and figure out what was wrong with my revolver. Opened the cylinder, took out a piece of cloth that was clogging the hand, and started to close the cylinder. A Very Large Hand reached over my shoulder (think Mandy Patinkin and Andre the Giant in "Princess Bride") and took the revolver away from me. I looked up at the biggest Asian I have ever seen, who opened my revolver, took out some other clogging piece, smiled and handed it back to me, then walked away.

Now properly armed with a rifle and a pistol, I went off to fight the Invading Hordes. I opened the door to the main room, and there they were...

... And then I woke up. No shaking or sweating this time, just a really screwed-up dream.

So. What are YOUR gunny dreams/nightmares?

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