Dream About Submarine. Please Help!
Posted: Fri May 20, 2011 9:22 pm
Hi Gang!
I just woke up from a rather bizarre and quite unexpected dream. First I'll tell you that I went to sleep holding a particular question in my mind. I wanted to see if I could contact my higher self and get an answer. In truth, I don't know if I got an answer or not. If I did then I sure don't get it. At least not right now. Maybe if I dwell on it awhile...
Anyway, I'm not going to say what the question was that I was holding until after we get at least a few responses back. So have at it! Here's the dream:
I was sent on board a US Nuclear Submarine for some job as an independent contractor. It did not seem to be for manual work so it may have been to meet with a person or persons about something. A technician checking on the performance of a piece of equipment? No idea.
They immediately assigned me a bunk-probably to keep me out of the way-and left me there. No introduction to Captain or officers or anyone. The bunk is in an area about as wide as the body of a 747 airplane. Fluorescent lighting. Bunks were cot-sized. Essentially they WERE cots. Mine is right next to a large, block-type air vent with it's vents situated about knee high.
We went right in to some kind of crisis without me knowing what was going on. I noted the crew was very quiet and made up of very young men. Apparently the diving Planes malfunctioned after we had submerged and the power to the air system is out. We're slowly sinking and running out of air. I felt a slow, end-to-end rocking occasionally. Kind of like a teeter-tooter. The air was still and stale. Eventually noticed it was hard to draw breath and realized we were running out of air. Very little movement by crew outside of laying in their bunks. Occasionally a crew-person came around the air vent next to me to check on or do something.
I concentrated on not moving around to conserve air and on not panicking. I then realized that all the other crewmen around me were basically trying to do the same thing. The hull seemed solid-I didn't hear any creaking or groaning of the hull-but I prayed just the same that we wouldn't be crushed by depth because I knew we were slowly sinking due to the inoperable Planes.
The air circulation eventually starts back up again and I can feel the cold, fresh air flowing out the vents next to me. A wave of relief sweeps through myself and the crew nearby. I stand up and an announcement comes over the intercom system that they're now going to do a little "shakedown" cruise to make sure everything is okay. A universal groan goes up from the crewmen around me and I lay back down on a center-isle bunk this time as the sub rolls over into what seems to be about a 70 degree bank to the left but is probably more like 45 to 50 degrees. I look down the long axis of the sub and all other crewmen are doing the same. A few small sundry items not secured such as paperback books, handkerchiefs, etc go falling off to the side because of the steep angle.
Things switch to an external view and I can see underwater pinnacles rush past very close as we weave around them. There are extremely sharp, high-speed turns around some of these pinnacles and wild gyrations up and down in our depth. It's like a combination high-speed drive on a mountain coupled with a super-wild roller-coaster ride. We come very close to and rush along the bottom after one of these hairpin turns and I note the bottom is sandy and red like the stuff in the bottom of an aquarium.
Then another announcement comes over the intercom that is something to the effect that they're now going to "check hull integrity". Next I'm looking down from directly overhead and see all but the uppermost part of the conning tower and its Planes submerged in a dust cloud, as if we've dunked into the bottom sand and are plowing through it!
Then I'm led to another bunk in a different part of the sub. Near this bunk is an elevated rack with a faceplate on it but very much like the old-style mail-room sorting racks. There are holes on the faceplate but they appear only big enough to fit about 1 1/2 of my shoes in to. There are at least 25 slots like this. Most of the slots are occupied by crewmen because I can see their faces at the holes. As I watch a crewman climbs the rails beneath and in front of the rack, then grabs a bar on top of the rack and swing-slips his feet into one of the empty holes. Then he slides completely into the hole and turns around somehow so he is laying stomach-down. A cover-plate then swings down in front of this rack-apparently to protect these crewmen and block out light while they sleep.
Immediately a junior officer or senior NCO on the bunk next to me starts berating me, apparently because I was sitting on what would otherwise be the bunk of the crewman who just climbed into the rack. I started to explain that there was no way anyone could fit into those racks, let along me getting my fat ass in there but before I can get a word in the crewman behind the cover-plate in the rack says to the officer: "Please sir, don't say that." The officer starts to object and the crewman says: "Please, please sir. Don't say that. It makes me feel bad."
I thought to my self: That's damn generous of him. Damn, damn generous."
Then I woke up.
One Walker.
Okay troops. What the hell does all this mean?
I just woke up from a rather bizarre and quite unexpected dream. First I'll tell you that I went to sleep holding a particular question in my mind. I wanted to see if I could contact my higher self and get an answer. In truth, I don't know if I got an answer or not. If I did then I sure don't get it. At least not right now. Maybe if I dwell on it awhile...
Anyway, I'm not going to say what the question was that I was holding until after we get at least a few responses back. So have at it! Here's the dream:
I was sent on board a US Nuclear Submarine for some job as an independent contractor. It did not seem to be for manual work so it may have been to meet with a person or persons about something. A technician checking on the performance of a piece of equipment? No idea.
They immediately assigned me a bunk-probably to keep me out of the way-and left me there. No introduction to Captain or officers or anyone. The bunk is in an area about as wide as the body of a 747 airplane. Fluorescent lighting. Bunks were cot-sized. Essentially they WERE cots. Mine is right next to a large, block-type air vent with it's vents situated about knee high.
We went right in to some kind of crisis without me knowing what was going on. I noted the crew was very quiet and made up of very young men. Apparently the diving Planes malfunctioned after we had submerged and the power to the air system is out. We're slowly sinking and running out of air. I felt a slow, end-to-end rocking occasionally. Kind of like a teeter-tooter. The air was still and stale. Eventually noticed it was hard to draw breath and realized we were running out of air. Very little movement by crew outside of laying in their bunks. Occasionally a crew-person came around the air vent next to me to check on or do something.
I concentrated on not moving around to conserve air and on not panicking. I then realized that all the other crewmen around me were basically trying to do the same thing. The hull seemed solid-I didn't hear any creaking or groaning of the hull-but I prayed just the same that we wouldn't be crushed by depth because I knew we were slowly sinking due to the inoperable Planes.
The air circulation eventually starts back up again and I can feel the cold, fresh air flowing out the vents next to me. A wave of relief sweeps through myself and the crew nearby. I stand up and an announcement comes over the intercom system that they're now going to do a little "shakedown" cruise to make sure everything is okay. A universal groan goes up from the crewmen around me and I lay back down on a center-isle bunk this time as the sub rolls over into what seems to be about a 70 degree bank to the left but is probably more like 45 to 50 degrees. I look down the long axis of the sub and all other crewmen are doing the same. A few small sundry items not secured such as paperback books, handkerchiefs, etc go falling off to the side because of the steep angle.
Things switch to an external view and I can see underwater pinnacles rush past very close as we weave around them. There are extremely sharp, high-speed turns around some of these pinnacles and wild gyrations up and down in our depth. It's like a combination high-speed drive on a mountain coupled with a super-wild roller-coaster ride. We come very close to and rush along the bottom after one of these hairpin turns and I note the bottom is sandy and red like the stuff in the bottom of an aquarium.
Then another announcement comes over the intercom that is something to the effect that they're now going to "check hull integrity". Next I'm looking down from directly overhead and see all but the uppermost part of the conning tower and its Planes submerged in a dust cloud, as if we've dunked into the bottom sand and are plowing through it!
Then I'm led to another bunk in a different part of the sub. Near this bunk is an elevated rack with a faceplate on it but very much like the old-style mail-room sorting racks. There are holes on the faceplate but they appear only big enough to fit about 1 1/2 of my shoes in to. There are at least 25 slots like this. Most of the slots are occupied by crewmen because I can see their faces at the holes. As I watch a crewman climbs the rails beneath and in front of the rack, then grabs a bar on top of the rack and swing-slips his feet into one of the empty holes. Then he slides completely into the hole and turns around somehow so he is laying stomach-down. A cover-plate then swings down in front of this rack-apparently to protect these crewmen and block out light while they sleep.
Immediately a junior officer or senior NCO on the bunk next to me starts berating me, apparently because I was sitting on what would otherwise be the bunk of the crewman who just climbed into the rack. I started to explain that there was no way anyone could fit into those racks, let along me getting my fat ass in there but before I can get a word in the crewman behind the cover-plate in the rack says to the officer: "Please sir, don't say that." The officer starts to object and the crewman says: "Please, please sir. Don't say that. It makes me feel bad."
I thought to my self: That's damn generous of him. Damn, damn generous."
Then I woke up.
One Walker.
Okay troops. What the hell does all this mean?