Dreams of War.

The last two weeks, perhaps more, has been a time of war. My dreams have been constant and always about fights. Each night I have relived one or more of my memories, and some that have become like memories. Not all have been victories, only a few have been clean and easy, all have been intense. And yet, I have enjoyed this time. The taste and sight of blood, bruises, pained body, messed up hands, and personal shame and glory were earned and are now appreciated.

I watched as I went from victim to combatant to a type of predator. My youth and inexperience flowed to a rugged strength of purpose and self, skill and knowledge, speed and grace. My fear melted to precision. I watched as I was beaten by older or more experienced kids, in the beginning. I went from having difficulties winning against one fighter to being able to manage a group. I saw mistakes in timing and other choices, and watched in my dreams as I learned, adapted, changed, and... became. Near the end, I hunted the playground predators. I allowed them to seal their coffins, as it were, but on my ground in my time and in such a fashion that would leave me clean of technical guilt yet allow them no room to escape the trap of their dastardly natures. And, finally, I came to a place where it did not matter. I would toy with my enemies, singularly or in groups. I knew the situation was not in doubt.

I do not understand the combat dreams. My records have vindicated me of any legal, and technically moral, ties there. Yet for them I still have great guilt and shame at times, when I cannot set them aside or deny. Not so much for what I did, or needed to do, but for not being able to save my own in the end. As well, there are the collateral damage and young dead, which I carry harshly and heavily in spite of my literal bullet-proof painkiller of deniability. The worst of these dreams, though, were not in the line-up, so even the ones I did have were good.

I can change most of my dreams. Hell, I like nightmares and add undead, they really bug me out. Free entertainment is hard to come by. These are different. I have not figured out how to change them. This time, I felt no need. Even in the early ones, the ones I lost. I wanted to see what was happening. I saw the mistakes, and better, in later dreams, I was rewarded by seeing the improvements. I realize, whatever is or is not true, I am weaponized. At this time, I also realize I am not out of control, nor prone to that. I am not worried that I will use this for nefarious ends or against my own. No small blessings, those. So, now, in the better of times of dreaming, I shake, and growl, spit, and hiss, and... remember.