Thursday, April 23, 2009

2009-04-24 Dream:  Nazi Campground

Muddled recall:

I was a female Allied Agent, working in Nazi Germany.  Hitler shot himself at a kind of mountain camping retreat.  The setting was dark, there was a two story wooden bunkhouse structure -- the wood was dark, with some dingy whitewash between rough timbers.

Hitler's office was about eight by eight.  I'd heard a gun fire, and I slowly crept up stairs and looked into his office window.  Through dream logic, he'd been dead long enough for his face and hands to turn dull blue (sort of a coper patina color).  "Yep," I thought.  "He's dead alright."

I went downstairs, in my double-agent role as a German beurocrat, to inform the next-in-command (whom I'm thinking in waking life looked a little like General Hoffsteader from Hogan's Heros).  

There's a gap... The office and military staff at the German Mountain Campground went for a dip in the local pool.  They didn't bother to take off their clothes or put on swim suits, they slogged right in.  

It was a moonless night.  I think the pool was also an airfield because I have a sense of aircraft floating in the dark water.  Every now and then, methane bubbled up, and in a case of dream-wishing, I hoped that it would catch on fire and it did.  The smale flame hovering over the water was dim and blue. 
Post a Comment