.
Nothing, mostly, so personal as exploring a branch of possibilities, my own cynicism(s) even if they are true, in a, and the, secular aspects of the world, but not completely bereft of an exploration of some minor possibilities, possibly realities, and... well... just some of me, or the parts of these things I don't mind sharing. You get, nearly, a free reign. Only my priest, as my confessor, has the possibility of knowing more. My first was spared burning ears. The bulk blunted the individual details, in most cases, and because of the time spans involved. How do you detail fifty to sixty lovers, and others unremembered in full? How do you separate your own sin from modern expressions, and other guilts. A secular sin, what I was when sinning the most, is seen differently, even by one's self, even after having come around to faith. In one sense he had all of the time in the world to hear, in another, he really didn't. Anyway...
In this dream I found myself traveling with a group of people. Americans, mostly, with some Europeans. I needed to travel in parts of Africa. It wasn't the safest, nor the most dangerous, of places. The distance was great, options were limited, and enough stops in hard untamed terrain were on the way so that a plane would not do, and no trains or even roads would get me to my required destinations. My interactions weren't with larger governments, international bodies, or militaries, and yet it was important and honest work. I requested, and was provisionally granted, group admittance. My requirements were rather laid out as hippie types do... I needed, generally, merely support myself, add some of my efforts to the common good, and not become a common bane. As I was vouched to them, if details were obscure, no other cost, price, or limit, was demanded.
I have seen these types, recently. At Burning Man, they have a group of general peace-keepers they call rangers. A decent sort, from the almost nil interaction with them that I have had. I think more of them are military or police than even many of them know, if not generally from the mp pool if I were to guess. Closer to the literal Army ranger pool, but on the cooled heel side of that. Anyway, there was an air of that with this group. It was coed, however. But the women had been trained up, and the women who remained were the women who proved out. It wasn't military but it wasn't civilian. Defensive combat orientation, with an extreme least force principle applied, though with a serious capacity in small arms and minor tactics. I can smell my own. While they traveled at a pace well above what civilians can pack through, they did not run at a mil spec pace, certainly not spec-for. Still, an interesting group. Not completely unapproachable to one such as I. I can't swear I understood them fully, functionally. That would take more time than my dream trip would allow. But I... think from various experiences in life I had a decent working knowledge.
It started with a group of us around the evening fire, during a meal then a conversation convention, not too dissimilar with what happens around the office water bottle. Because of my cool, slow, general approach, I was generally invited, allowed, not just tolerated. I knew, so long as I didn't stir the mud into the water, so to speak, I would be included or ignored, whichever I wished. And while I did speak, quietly, a few times, I generally listened. As the fire faded, people moved on, going to sleep or to more private or intimate activities or discussions. A few remained. I intended to sleep in place, as some others did as well. I was, slowly, approached by one woman.
She wasn't much to look at. And when I say approached, I mean a snails pace closing of the distance, at least by perception if not by fact. She ended up quite close. And considering the dynamics of the crew, quite quickly. I understood this. The offer. Rough, dusty, a little chunky, but sufferable, relatively and in this sort of camp style. Assuming a man was a normal man, with normal needs, and a secular nature. All of which could easily have been assumed, and mostly correct, at the time, save the first. I got the feeling that she was the camp's third wheel. My guess is, even at a snail's pace, she moved too fast. Hunger, while one of the best spices, of one's own interest, can ruin the interest in making a meal. It runs contrary, in personal interaction. A woman who is too hungry in the company of people who are self-possessed, in the proper way, is shunned. I merely played ignorant, and to a degree aloof. You can't, completely, fool, alligators, or hungry women, however. But you can baffle them just enough so they can't be sure why. I did so. I knew, if nothing else, that as the third wheel, inviting her in would lower my status in the group. That wasn't the only reason to stay away, merely the political aspect. I must have done my job correctly, for the group, or she, tested my resolve and nature later, by having one of the gay, or bi, men, make similar overtures, to similar results. Deadness is what he received as well, on that part, and more than what she received. Even if I wasn't disinterested in her for personal and social/political reasons, my tasks and person, were too into my mission to allow for distractions.
I traveled with this group, made a few contacts, and a few possible friendships. Sometimes these things are the same, sometimes they are different, and so it went here. Listening without eavesdropping, speaking without saying too much or too little, action, and thought, all allowed for a quiet alignment of alliances in various ways. As a dance that lasts for weeks. While there are no right or wrong movements or words, after a level of mutual confidence has been achieved, there is the subtle differences. We knew each other to be, at least partly, contrary, in our lives. We also, mostly, understood that our lives, or work, where not the whole of us.
I could respect them, hippies that they were, because they didn't just talk the talk. They tried, and succeeded to some degree, in walking the walk. They were out there to help real diplomats, humanitarian aid and workers when those were actually needed and not as an invasion force, and, if they didn't see it I did... to try to do good. Not in their lives, but with them. I was doing similar, although with a bit more teeth. They had some doubts about my associations. And yet I knew enough of their own attachments, personal, financial, and otherwise, to know they had little to discuss on the matter. An order is an order, and an asset is an asset. But somewhere in that there is a man. In this way we came to... mutual appreciation without much muss or fuss.
Mostly, other than that, it was a long dry leisurely, to my standards, group travel through African terrain in some varied odd attempts to help a people do what few of us believe they can do. And while there is that, there is some hope they can be allowed to live their humble lives free from some things, while still being allowed some of the fruits of their lands, without the outright raping of their lands. That is a difficult balance for a people who probably can't, as a rule, be taught algebra. Still, there is some hope. The other option is to shut Africa off, leave it to it's own devices. That would cause the death of most city dwellers, a return to a more barbaric, tribal, time. If the modern world falls, I am not sure there will be a choice. Nothing great or important in the dream. Some of it was personal experience, some of it... I just don't know, some of it from here, some from there. Mostly real, just collected from various sources.
Later.
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