A rock monolith rises out of the dense green jungle. A fast and thick river flows past its base, feeding the flora.
A short way up this mountain, and temple is carved deep into the rock. It's reminiscient of Egyptian architecture, save for the massive looming 5-point star carved above the gaping entrance.
The communist forces, my brothers and I, charge screaming up the great stone stairs and towards the entrance as the communist star hovers closer.
The soldiers defending the temple fire back, but they are no match for our bloodthirst. They are crushed under the might of communism, as all will be.
I draw my 9mm from the weapons cage, and load the magazine. I shove it in the old "death holster". Damn, I wish they would give us the thigh drop holsters, instead of this shit.
You see, it seems that me and these people are very far away from the influence of American power and air superiority. Whatever this enemy is, they scare the shit out of me, and we expect them to make a move soon..
We are out front of our ramshack little pile of junk we call a forward operating base. I'm strolling back from my shift when we hear the high-pitched whine of aircraft. The others sprint for the entrance, but I drop to the ground and try to wait it out. The aircraft pass over head.. Holy shit how can they not see me! Fuck they see me! Wait.. no they don't. Now I make a run for it.
Me and a couple of these seeming mercenaries I work with decide to check the wide A-frame roof of our building.
See, the whole area looks like a junkyard, some remnant of a long and destructful war.
We carry some broken tree limbs still thick with vegetation, to cover ourselves in case another aircraft appears. We chat as we sit pearing out into the dense woods surrounding this wide sprawling junk yard once called a city.
As we are talking, an aircraft slams into existence directly above us, hovering. I get a good terrifying look at it. I try to hide under my makeshift camoflauge, but it's obviously not working. Dream shifts..
It's nighttime, and I'm in the compound toying with my weapon in it's holster. I'm talking to someone about something, just friendly toying and chatting. But in the back of my mind, they enemy is coming. The fear is always there, and it's powerful. Right before I wake up, I get the impression that they have come.
Notes: These are the first dreams I have remembered in probably over a year. Also, in the second dream, perhaps I'm an "insurgent" fighting Americans in the not-distant future.