Healing Left To Do

I probably should have known going to that concert last night was a mistake, because of a dream I had the night before.

Part of the dream was nonsensical.  It involved a car that I supposedly (in the dream) had owned during my last life, but it conflated the Hillman Minx, Hillman Imp, Meyers Manx, and Mini T to become a car I called a “Hillman Imp” in the dream that was actually a Mini T (good old dream logic applied freely).  At any rate, a flamboyant dune buggy is not the sort of car he would have owned (but an actual Hillman Imp, maybe, since my proclivity for small foreign cars hasn’t changed much between lives).

But the other part of the dream had me in Belgium, watching a flamethrower being used.  Large trees were burning in front of me, and the flamethrower user was moving closer.  I was really frightened and woke from the dream feeling uneasy.

I held off on looking this up.  For one thing, I dismissed it as dream logic since I was under the impression that flamethrowers weren’t used on the Western Front before about 1917 (think Passchendaele, when things got really desperate) and it had been followed up by that nonsensical car dream.  For another, I didn’t want to dwell on anything related to the war before going to that concert because I didn’t want to psych myself into getting triggered.

So I did what I’ve been doing for the last month or two when anything related to the war came up: I pushed it back down. Bottled it up.  Ignored it and hoped it would go away.

After we got back from the concert, I went ahead and looked up the use of flamethrowers in the war and I discovered, to my dismay, that this may have been a legitimate memory.  Apparently, flamethrowers were in use by the German army as early as 1914-1915.

So no, I’m not as “over it” as I would like to imagine.  It’s still there, and I probably still have repressed memories that haven’t surfaced yet.

I want to be over it, though.  Isn’t 101 years long enough?

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