Arrant
Member
The other night I had a most interesting "dream." I've only just had chance to sit down and write about it, yet, unusually, I still remember almost all of it. I have no idea if it has any significance, if it IS a fragmentary recollection of a past life, or simply a product of my own sleepy imagination, but I relate it here for any interest it may hold to others...
I was a German soldier in the early part of WW1, an officer or senior NCO. It was no later than about 1915. I know this because of the pattern of the uniforms and helmets we were all wearing which, having studied the era to an extent, I know conformed with the early war period. The helmet I wore, and that of my comrades in the trenches, featured that vertical Prussian spike that looked so menacing and uncomfortable! Anyway, in this "dream" I was a much respected figure, and whatever my actual rank, I was referred to by one and all by my first name. This is one detail - my name - I can't actually remember, so I will call myself "Fritz."
Now, "Fritz" was evidently a decisive figure, something of a leader. When he made a decision of importance, particularly one involving action against the enemy - who were always the French - he would suddenly put his helmet on, and all those under his direct or indirect command would cheer, "Fritz has put his helmet on!", and brace themselves expectantly for what was to happen next. The feeling I felt was one of complete trust in my judgement and leadership. I also recall fixing a bayonet, knowing I was capable of using it to good effect, if very reluctantly.
I remember leading a group of soldiers out into some sort of farm courtyard, in full view of the jeering French soldiers, who outnumbered us two to one, feeling scared but with that fear under control, and also very conscious of the weight of responsibility for the young, trusting soldiers looking to me for their lead. I wasn't that old myself, but a grizzled veteran in comparison to the youngsters I led. There was a fight, and the details blur here, because at the moment of maximum danger to myself, and my men, I awoke, and can recall no more. There are other details I recall, but haven't written about, but the relevant stuff, I have.
The relevant stuff, as I see it, is this. I have always had a fear of taking responsibility in any situation, have always tried to find ways around it -much to my shame! It makes me run for the hills! Secondly, I have a pathological fear of anything medical - blood, needles, watching surgical procedures on TV, etc. The internal construction of the human body, when visible, makes me nauseous. I can't help it. I could never give blood - never had - as I couldn't have a needle put into a vein and blood extracted. I pray it never becomes necessary. Yet I can do stuff that places me, theoretically, in physical danger - extreme sports, for instance - without batting an eyelid. I feel almost casual about it. Always have.
So, I do wonder, is my current makeup something to do with a life as "Fritz"? I often feel I've had quite a few military lives; maybe this was just one of them?
Anybody's thoughts welcome, as always.
I was a German soldier in the early part of WW1, an officer or senior NCO. It was no later than about 1915. I know this because of the pattern of the uniforms and helmets we were all wearing which, having studied the era to an extent, I know conformed with the early war period. The helmet I wore, and that of my comrades in the trenches, featured that vertical Prussian spike that looked so menacing and uncomfortable! Anyway, in this "dream" I was a much respected figure, and whatever my actual rank, I was referred to by one and all by my first name. This is one detail - my name - I can't actually remember, so I will call myself "Fritz."
Now, "Fritz" was evidently a decisive figure, something of a leader. When he made a decision of importance, particularly one involving action against the enemy - who were always the French - he would suddenly put his helmet on, and all those under his direct or indirect command would cheer, "Fritz has put his helmet on!", and brace themselves expectantly for what was to happen next. The feeling I felt was one of complete trust in my judgement and leadership. I also recall fixing a bayonet, knowing I was capable of using it to good effect, if very reluctantly.
I remember leading a group of soldiers out into some sort of farm courtyard, in full view of the jeering French soldiers, who outnumbered us two to one, feeling scared but with that fear under control, and also very conscious of the weight of responsibility for the young, trusting soldiers looking to me for their lead. I wasn't that old myself, but a grizzled veteran in comparison to the youngsters I led. There was a fight, and the details blur here, because at the moment of maximum danger to myself, and my men, I awoke, and can recall no more. There are other details I recall, but haven't written about, but the relevant stuff, I have.
The relevant stuff, as I see it, is this. I have always had a fear of taking responsibility in any situation, have always tried to find ways around it -much to my shame! It makes me run for the hills! Secondly, I have a pathological fear of anything medical - blood, needles, watching surgical procedures on TV, etc. The internal construction of the human body, when visible, makes me nauseous. I can't help it. I could never give blood - never had - as I couldn't have a needle put into a vein and blood extracted. I pray it never becomes necessary. Yet I can do stuff that places me, theoretically, in physical danger - extreme sports, for instance - without batting an eyelid. I feel almost casual about it. Always have.
So, I do wonder, is my current makeup something to do with a life as "Fritz"? I often feel I've had quite a few military lives; maybe this was just one of them?
Anybody's thoughts welcome, as always.
