Historical Reenactment Battle

 

https://wayneoconner.com/historical-reenactment-battle-dream/

 

Dreamed October 1, 2016

The dream began with me being contacted by a general, who looked and sounded, like the General Hammond character from the series Stargate. He told me that he was going to brief me on a mission from the Lord. He gave me the keys to a command center, which was overlooking a deep empty valley surrounded by trees. Above and behind the trailer house command center was a casino and a fort-like fence that enclosed an outdoor camping and cooking area. But the casino was high enough that you could look over the fortified fence, through a wall of windows, into the campfire area, and beyond that, over the command trailer, into the deep valley below. The trailer was on a plateau, that overlooked a wide and deep valley which was encircled by a forest on the three sides opposite of the casino complex.

My health was a bit better in the dream than it is in real life, as I was more mobile, but I still felt somewhat disabled. I was a temporary civilian advisor for a special ops group that was working on a project to defend a native American reservation area near a casino.

The general showed me a video of a man that looked like Vermin Supreme,

but without the boot on his head, who was the leader of a fanatical New Age occult group, who was giving fiery speeches about their need to declare war on a certain reservation because it had a dangerous group of Christians in it.

According to the speech, they were going to attack with a cavalry troop at dawn three days from the present time. The general said that he wanted me to watch over the command center, and work with a squad that would be crafting arrows on the lip of the valley, just below the command center trailer. On the day of the attack, I was to coordinate with the defense commanders and the special forces kitchen field detachment, who would be set up in the fort-like patio between the casino facility and the command trailer.

While I was working with the Fletcher squad, I received a communication from the general that a spy was reading classified info from inside the command trailer. The general’s staff had picked up a live feed, being sent to the Vermin Supreme guy, who was head of the New Age cult, that was planning to attack the reservation. When I went into the trailer, the spy, a lady wearing Muslim clothing, began chanting and prostrated to the east, but when I demanded to know who she was, she threw off her disguise and took off running. She exited another door out of the trailer. I called the general, explained what had happened, and gave him the lady spy’s description.

I went back down to the Fletchers, who had finished crafting a large stock of arrows, and I gave them schematics for crafting explosive arrow tips. 

Suddenly Craig N. came flying into the area where we were working, on the lip of the valley, in a red pickup truck that was pulling a long white and gray enclosed trailer.  He jumped out of the truck, eyes blazing, and yelled at me in a high-pitched voice. “What have you been doing? You should already be finished with the arrows!”

Craig, dressed in a dark chocolate woolen button-down shirt, and faded blue jeans, continued to yell, and wave his arms, as the Fletcher crafting squad emptied sturdy plastic containers that contained bows, army knives, and clubs.

 

 

 

 

He yelled at me, “Get those exploding arrows field tested now! And I mean yesterday!”

Craig then climbed back into the truck and spun ruts in the grass as he pulled the truck and empty trailer up the hill and away from the complex.

I tested out one of the arrows on a nearby tree stump that was right on the edge of the forest, not too far from where we were crafting the arrows.  At first, I thought it was a dud, but then after a few seconds, it sizzled like a sparkler, and then there was a slight pop, and the arrow caught on fire. It had worked but had not met my expectations.

I was going to test a few more when a cavalry soldier appeared at the far bottom of the valley. More and more began popping in as if they were being teleported from somewhere. I walked as fast as I could up the hill – I did not physically have the ability to run – and on the way, reported to the general that the attack was starting early, at dusk rather than dawn.

When I came to the top of the hill, I went past the command trailer and went into the fort that was outside of a casino. An old man of tiny stature, still dressed in the yellow rain suit, that he wore while working the sanitation crew of The Turkey Store third-shift cleaning – I think Robert was his name – was leaning against the doorframe of the backdoor casino entrance. Robert was supervising a cookfire and spouting commands to a crew of special ops kitchen detachment soldiers. Between directions, Robert was complaining about the general being grouchy. Defending the general, I informed Robert that the commander was anxious about the op and the coming battle. I added that he didn’t know whether he, myself or any of Robert’s special ops crew, would still be alive at the end of the battle. Robert, I could tell by his expression, knew that I was right, but was not ready to admit it.

Just then a few young adult guys and gals exited the casino building.  They asked if the historical reenactment was about to begin.  I pointed at the sign on the door behind them, “Didn’t you read the sign! You’re not supposed to be out here!” Even though the battle was real and not a historical reenactment, that is the way the special ops group had been told we were to promote the engagement, if the public questioned it. They went back inside and stood with a throng of other people who peered out of the windows. I asked Robert if he had the kitchen crew under control because if we won the battle, our soldiers would be expecting a meal. He said that everything was rushed, but working out fine.

 

 

 

 

Several soldiers, mostly Native Americans and some Caucasians, ran out of the casino. I kept looking around for Brent or Ken, and their family, to be part the battle, as well as a few friends like Aaron or Spark to be there, as they are associated with a Native American ministry I know in real life. The thought crossed my mind that Marvin would like to have been there, but was recently retired from active duty. I did see several people, who I did not know personally, but recognized as Native American actors, like Graham Green.  There was one person I did know personally, Chief Gordon. He wasn’t wearing glasses. He was not wearing the black western hat and black jacket I have seen him with in real life, either. Gordon was wearing what looked in style, like a Colonial American uniform, but one crafted out of buckskin leather.  He also had a cap that was kind of like a beret, but with feathers mounted on it. Gordon glanced at me, but said not a word, and then rushed down the hill towards the battle, surrounded by dozens of soldiers.

I did not have any weapons and thought I should be going into the battle. I felt like a coward. I then heard a disembodied voice exclaim, “No! You are doing exactly what I called you to do for this battle!”

Suddenly it was getting dark, and Robert’s kitchen special ops soldiers lit torches around the camp area outside of the casino. There was a scene fade. Next, I heard whooping. Several mounted men on horses rushed into the fort area. I squinted at them. I couldn’t tell if we were under attack or if they were on horses captured from the enemy.  I could see that Robert and his special ops kitchen crew had dropped whatever kitchen utensils they were holding, and pulled out Berettas and Glocks. They were going to attack the incoming cavalry. At the last second, I yelled, “Stand down, Robert! These are our guys!”

Robert’s crew put away their weapons and then began putting out food at the picnic tables. They served scrambled eggs with cheese and shredded beef, plates with bacon and sausage, fry bread, jelly, honey, coffee, juice, and water. I sat next to Gordon. Gordon was actually sitting on a camp chair at the end of the picnic table, rather than sitting as the others at the table. There was a small pile of snow under the picnic table.  Blood was seeping slowly, out over his moccasins, onto the snow. I asked him a few questions. I asked him if he had been injured in the battle. He replied offhandedly, “It is nothing. I’ll be fine. I have a couple of upper body bruises that are going to bother me longer.”

First, I asked Gordon if there had been any Muslims in the battle. My feeling had been that the lady spy that had been in the command trailer, had not been a Muslim, just an agent disguised as one.  He answered, “The enemy soldiers were only cultists of one kind or another.” I then asked what happened with the explosive arrows, as they were supposed to turn the tide of the battle in our favor. I told him that the only one I had time to test seemed like a dud.

Gordon bit into, then waved, a chunk of fry bread before answering, “Some of the arrows gave off a small pop, others went ka-boom – big-time!”  He laughed and added, “They didn’t need to explode to do their job. I can fight like a bear. I don’t need exploding arrows!”

“I am sure you were a bear in the battle, Gordon,” I replied.

Gordon shook his head and laughed sardonically, “I am not a sk_n-w_lker bear! But I can fight like a bear!  There is a difference!”

End of dream.

 

Observations:

• While the fact may be considered politically incorrect, all Americans, not just Native Americans are endangered by radical Muslims. While in the dream, this incident had nothing to do with Muslims, but the danger was from other occultist personages and principality and powers entities.
• When I looked up certain items in the dream on the internet, I found that many things, such as certain special forces groups, train with compound bows and explosive arrow tips, or that there are special ops soldiers that are actually trained, as kitchen specialists, that travel with mobile units.

 

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