Dream of:
09 September 1990 "Drafted"I had gone to
Walls' house, which was in Patriot in the Swivers' old house. I apparently lived across the street. Walls (probably in his 20s) had black hair. When I arrived, Walls asked me if I knew about the letters I had received from the military saying I was going to be drafted. Indeed I didn't know about it. Walls told me that we were supposed to go to Columbus that day, and that then we were to go on to Montreal. Apparently a war had broken out and we were going to have to go into the military service. He was preparing to go, and I began getting together some things of mine which I had there. Although I didn't like the idea, I decided I was going to go. Since I thought everything would be supplied for me, I decided to only take the clothes I had on.Walls and I had known each other for eight years; I thought about how much we had been through together. And now we were going off into the military service together.
A woman, apparently Walls' mother, was here. Another person who was going to go with us was also upstairs. We were supposed to be in Montreal around seven o'clock that night, and it was already five o'clock. And, by Montreal's time it was probably already six o'clock. I tried to decide whether I would fly, or go by bus. I was uncertain whether I was going to go with Walls, or whether I was just going to meet him there. I thought I needed to call the bus station, so I picked up the phone and called. An operator came on the phone and wanted to know which port I wanted. I told her that I didn't want a port, that I just wanted a general number. I waited, but she couldn't seem to find the number. Meanwhile, I began wondering whether I should take something nice to wear, such as a blue suit and a white shirt. I wondered whether since I was a lawyer I would receive a desk job instead of having to actually go and fight.
I did know I was unhappy about the whole affair. I thought that I was going to expect more from my country in the future if I had to go and fight for it. I might even die; I might never return. The woman also seemed a bit like
my mother. I thought I might ought to hug her before I left, because I might never see her again. I thought perhaps I shouldn't go. Maybe I should become a conscientious objector. I had recently heard of someone like that. But I didn't think I would. I thought I would go. I had always thought I wouldn't go into the military if called. But now I was going to go.Copyright 2003 by luciddreamer2k@gmail.com
