Bad dream! My dream last night convinced me that the absolute worst job in the armed forces is that of serving on a submarine. There’s no way to escape, and you can’t go and buy toothpaste and a toothbrush from the corner store.
In the dream, I was in a front room of a submarine (it had rooms like a house), with an ex-girlfriend. We became aware of a ship headed on a collision course, but there was no time for any action to be taken. The “thud” of impact resounded through the ship. We seemed ok, but it was disconcerting waiting to see if sprays of water would or would not seal our fate.
It turned out we’d hit a low-running cargo ship, and it was damaged and one person on that ship had died. As a diplomatic gesture, some members of our sub were compelled to attend the funeral service which was held in the victim’s native country – some sort of slavic nation. Although it looked much like any European village, I didn’t understand the language, the customs (such as how one holds one’s hands when praying), or anything. In the town square where the service was held, I mimicked along with the residents as best I could, but felt embarrassed the whole time and really wanted to leave.
Later, the dream got worse, as I woke up back on the submarine and found my ex nude in my bed, along with some slavic guy, equally nude, both fast asleep. I deduced he was from the memorial service and then they’d had sex in my bed, maybe while I was asleep, and I was submerged in jealousy and rage — and also preoccupied with finding where the hell my toothbrush and toothpaste were. I didn’t even know where the bathroom was on this submarine. As I searched for it, the submarine turned into a shopping mall that was being emptied out in preparation for remodeling.