A War In My Dreams

Some nights ago, a dreamed that I was in a war zone. I was standing on the front lines with American and Guyanese aligned troops. Americans and British were fighting for Guyana‘s oil.

Although I was dreaming, the fear of death was real. Fighter jets swooped overhead and we prepared to fire. In fact, the fear of dying was so real that I deserted my comrades and ran into a nearby house. I turned on the television. The war had started. Behind me, I spotted a device that was labeled, “fatality meter.” It was a digital device showing numbers in LED.
The fatality meter read 15. That means that 15 people had already been killed in the war.

But within a few seconds, it flickered up to 25. Then 45. In less than 1 minute, the casualty meter read 145. And it continued upward at an alarming rate. My hair stood on ends. I realized that if I had stayed on the front lines, I’d probably have already died.

In panic, I ran out to the verandah of the house. In the distance, I spotted two British troops. They were dressed like Americans and were trying to infiltrate an American camp. They approached the electronic door and their disguise passed. The door, designed only to open for American
troops, opened, and they entered.

It was then that the ingenuity brought out in wartime stuck me. And it made me remember the atomic bomb and all those scientific breakthrough that were products of war.

But my mind was recalled to a more urgent issue. The two British soldiers had just infiltrated the American camp and were heading straight for my comrades. Would they be detected before launching their attack? Who would win this war? I woke up. It was just a dream.

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