My Dream

This morning I woke up with the oddest memory in my mind. I was in a hotel room with several people from my church in Colorado, but we were in Searcy, AR overlooking a river. On the other side of the river was Lake City, which we decided to drive through and explore. We were impressed by a large and architecturally impossible bank, and then we returned to the room. We heard that there was a tornado coming, so I looked out the window to watch it traveling down the river. The bank was in the background, with huge plumes of smoke rising from it. I looked down to find that our hotel was right on the river, although I was not overly concerned.

The tornado petered out gradually, but for some reason a boat doing water-donuts in the middle of the river started it back up again. The funnel enveloped our building but left it unscathed.

Soon we were in the same room, but in a cabin in rural Arkansas that had existed at least since the Revolutionary era, judging by the racks of muzzle-loaders just outside the window. I contemplated getting some in case any problem arose, but didn't. My friends all left and I was alone,and I looked out the window again to see a band of well-armed men stalking the cabin.

They opened fire and I grabbed the one rifle inside. The projectiles were small pewter balls, like the ones that Johnny Tremain smelted himself. I blind-shot a few out the window just to send them back, and I heard the leader advise a young man to set fire to the cabin to smoke me out. The boy approached with a rag soaked in gasoline, and I stood up to stare him down. He left, and the volleys continued until I ran into the back room to wait for them to break in, figuring I had a better chance at fighting them hand-to-hand in the smaller space.

I looked down at my bayonet to find that one of my friends had replaced it with a spatula. I grimly reflected that it would have to do, and I awaited my attackers.

Then I woke up.

What could it mean???