Refugee

Date: 6/26/2018

Im on the roof of a building. In the next building over, there are a bunch of leaders from a foreign country—something Middle Eastern. I’m supposed to be a scout of some sort, keeping watch. There’s a lot of tension between this country and mine. A war is brewing. The foreign leaders start pouring out onto the roof, all in a rage. My stomach drops. They want to go to war. My people start pouring out, then theirs. No one attacks anyone, just armies all lining up and lots of shouting. Our soldiers outnumber theirs 100 to 1, but they seemed convinced it would be a fair fight. I see a familiar face among their ranks and my stomach sinks lower. Inconspicuously, I push through the crowds to him and we talk without looking at each other. I tell him that there’s no way this will end well. We both want peace, but we both know there’s a good chance it won’t happen. He says their leaders are determined to fight. I tell him it doesn’t matter what strategy or tactics they use, they’ll be wiped out by sheer numbers alone. I can’t let that happen, I can’t bear to see him injured or killed. He offers the option that maybe they won’t go through with it. I shake my head saying it doesn’t really matter, because if not them, then one of their neighboring countries surely will attack. He questions why that would be such a bad thing, that his people wouldn’t be involved. I furrow my brows. “It doesn’t matter, whether it’s you or them. My people see you all as one and the same, they’ll come after all of you.” He asks what else he’s supposed to do because the only other option is life as a refugee. “I can’t do that. Give up my entire life? My family? ...you?” “I can’t watch you slaughtered in front of my eyes. Not when I’m fighting alongside those taking your life.” There is a frenzy as news is announced. There won’t be war—at least that’s what they say. But plenty of the soldiers on his side are retreating back, ready to join up with the next nation who plans to take on my country. Everyone else, civilians, women, children, other soldiers who never truly wanted to fight, they are hurrying towards checkpoints where they will be processed as refugees. I wrap my arms around him, willing myself not to cry. It’s risky, deadly even, but I don’t care anymore. If this is the last time I’m ever going to see him, the love of my life, then I’m going to at least have him in my arms once more. All too soon he’s pushing me away. “We can’t, you know we can’t. Not here. We’d both be killed in an instant.” “You have to go with the refugees,” I say, staring at the mass of people all scuttling about in different directions. “I have to know you’re safe.” “But what will you do? Where will you go?” His friend is pulling on his arm, telling him they need to go. A long line is forming at the checkpoint gate, and if they wait too long, they may not get in. He doesn’t want to leave me. In a split decision I run and jump in the line, shedding my military jacket. His friend tells me I’m crazy. My boyfriend knows I’ve made up my mind so there’s no convincing me otherwise. His friend shakes his head saying I’m simply too light that I’ll be too obvious. I tell him I don’t care, that we’ll figure something out. He knows as good as the rest of us that my mind is made up. As we get closer to the front of the line the friend throws a huge parka around my shoulders and tells me to keep my head down while we go through the checkpoint. His friend causes a stir and trips just as I’m going through the checkpoint. My boyfriend is right behind me pushing me on, and I keep my head as far down in the coat as possible. The guard notices that I’m the wrong nationality but is too distracted by the friend to do much. I close my eyes and clench my teeth together trying not to think about it. I know he’ll be punished for this. I look to my boyfriend. He knows too. We’ll never see him again. A big burly woman is checking over people as they come in, like a TSA person basically. She stares at me and knows in an instant. I stare back at her, neither of us blink. She knows, I know she knows. My heart is pounding. This is it, I’m going to be turned in, probably killed, and even if I’m not I’ll never see my boyfriend again in my life. She orders me to step forward. She asks me something in their language. I don’t know what she says so I just grunt a response hoping she’ll assume she just didn’t quite hear me. She pats me down, apparently looking for weapons or other contraband. I have no parka to hide behind, nothing at all. Clearly she knows. But so far she hasn’t said anything. She says something into her radio and my heart sinks. I don’t know what she’s saying but it can’t be good. I prepare for the worst, but then she silently puts my coat back on and pushes me gruffly forward. She says something else to me and I just make a “hhmmph” grunt again in response. I stand there shaking a minute until my boyfriend joins me. I feel like I’m going to burst into tears. He’s in disbelief. I ask him what she said to me and he informs me it’s this phrase among their people that means “blessings to you”. I start to smile and the anxiety fades a bit. Maybe this is all going to work out, maybe we’ll actually be okay. There’s a lady standing in the middle of this long walkway with a scarf on her head and some makeup in her hands. She gently taps foundation or eyeshadow to ladies faces as they pass to cover the tears and make them feel just a little bit better—more human. She whispers blessings to them as they pass, and everyone is gratefully for even such a small act of humanity. We scurry over and I drop my hood in a flash, begging her for some of the dark toned makeup so that my light skin will be less noticeable. She is instantly taken aback by the sight of me. She knows just as well as anybody that I’m not supposed to be there. She shakes her head, pushing me away. I beg her, though I don’t know her language. My boyfriend is behind me trying to hide me from onlookers. In sign language I beg her “please, please, I love him.” Her face softens, though the worry is still there. She looks at the both of us. I’m about to ask her again but she interrupts saying she will. I breathe the biggest sigh of relief and joy. She quickly puts some makeup on and tells us to go. As we leave i sign to her that she is the greatest and “thank you thank you thank you!” She smiles but waves it off saying it’s nothing but that we really need to go. She warns us to be careful. We continue on with the masses. We get sent to a refugee community, ours being in some Slavic country. Everyone is being sent to different places, but we do everything we can to stay together, and somehow we manage it. Life is scary, and there’s no stability, no security. I’m so thankful for our placement because it means I can keep wearing big winter coats to hide my identity for awhile. We’re always treated as something less than human. Not that we’re necessarily mistreated, but it’s clear that to pretty much everyone else in the world, we are unwanted and merely tolerated. We don’t care. We are together, we’re safe, and that’s all that matters. We were so in love, and never apart from each other’s side if we could help it. I always had a fear that one day he’d go out for groceries and not come back. Still, we were so happy. Our circumstances were rough but it didn’t matter because we were in love and we were together. We had our own house—sort of, but we made it into one. We weren’t allowed to marry because we no longer had a home country, no citizenship, but we made our own vows. We wanted so badly to start a family, but we couldn’t—not with the way the world was, we couldn’t bring a child into that. We got transferred a few times but always manage to stay together. We made friends along the way but only very select few were allowed to know the secret we kept and it was only ever because they found it out on their own and we confirmed it. We’re placed in warmer countries and I’m able to tan my skin darker enough that I can pass for one of his people as long as they don’t look closely enough. There are more refugees now too, from other countries, so blending in is not as much of a struggle. We get transferred to some place in Germany. It’s in a big stadium because a lot of refugees have been sent here from all over the world because more countries have been hit by war now. The public is less outspoken about us now because there are getting to be a more equal number of refugees to non refugees. The stadium is all for a big processing event with a lot of people going in and a lot going out. We have a piece of paper with an assigned table for us to sit at while we wait. Along the way I see my parents and I’m stunned. I can’t believe they’re still alive, that they’re ok. I want to run and tell them everything. I want them to see how I’m a different person now, how happy we are even with everything going on. I know I can’t. I can’t speak about the life I used to have. I can’t risk that. We walk by without them ever knowing I was there. We navigate through just crowds and crowds of people. I speak small phrases of German to some of the natives and it makes them a little more accepting. We finally get to our table, which is full except for two seats. There are a lot of people from Nordic countries, and only a few of “our” people. And then I see him, there at the end of the table. His friend, the one who had sacrificed himself so many years ago at the checkpoint so that I could get through safely. I hurriedly point him out to my boyfriend/husband and he is just as stunned. He calls out his name and the friend breaks into a huge grin. We climb into our seats and everyone shuffled around so that we can be by him. This table is our new “family” during this housing assignment so everyone is eager to get along with everyone and they’re actually pretty nice people. We’re so excited to reunite with our friend and we want to tell him everything. He knows the real story of how it started but he’s quick to affirm our cover story to everyone else in the group. They’re all such nice people and they are so happy for us, saying they really enjoy seeing two people so in love. We’re still in shock that we found our friend again and we promise to tell him the real story later. This dream was so vivid and real feeling that I woke up and felt like I’d literally lived someone else’s life.

AI generated interpretation This dream appears to be an exploration of the power of love, resilience, and the strength of the human spirit. The dreamer is faced with a difficult situation – a looming war between two countries – and is tasked with keeping watch. There is a great deal of tension and fear in the dream, as the dreamer is aware of the potential consequences of the war. However, when the dreamer is confronted with the potential loss of the love of his life, he is willing to risk everything to save him. This demonstrates the power of the dreamer's love, as well as his courage and strength in the face of such a daunting situation. The dream then shifts to the dreamer and his love fleeing to a refugee camp and struggling to find a way to start a new life together. Despite the difficult circumstances, the dreamer and his love stay together and find ways to cope and make the best of the situation. They even find solace in the kindness of strangers, such as the woman who applies makeup to the refugees to make them feel more human and the dreamer's friend who helps them pass through the checkpoint. Ultimately, the dreamer and his love are reunited with the friend who helped them pass through the checkpoint, demonstrating that kindness and compassion can