You can't control dreams

In a dream a couple of nights ago, I was an Army sergeant, which is okay, because I play that role quite well.

I had soldiers with me. We were outside a large brick building. Another group, wearing PT uniforms, entered the area and wanted to enter the building. They refused to show any ID.

My soldiers corralled the others, except for one, who said he was a lieutenant and in charge. He began telling me why he was going to go into the building.

“Sir,” I said as he went on and on, “Let me tell you yadda yadda yadda.

“Sir.”

“Yadda yadda yadda.”

“Sir.”

“Yadda yadda yadda.”

I got in his face and shouted, “SHUT THE F’K UP!”

I said it loud. So loud I woke myself up. “Wow,” I said to myself. “I hope that wasn’t out loud.” My wife seemed still asleep. I got up and went to the bathroom, did my business, washed my hands and went back to the bedroom.

My wife got out of bed and went to the bathroom door. She said, “What kind of dream were you having?”

I went through the entire thing and said, “I didn’t yell out, did I?”

“Oh, yes,” she said. “It was quite loud.”

I apologized.