Dreaming, Basically

I had a dream about basic training last night soon before waking up. It wasn't quite like the real thing at all, of course, since it was in a dream. Odd things like a batting cage and square-shaped coins I was flipping were in it too.

One thing I'm fairly sure I helped direct in the dream was during lunch, when I happened upon a female Airman [proper] sitting down beside a few of us. I ended up explaining to her why I was sent home, and eventually asked her if I would have made a good Airman myself. She had assured me that I would have.

I'd like to think that would be true, and I think that's one reason why basic training itself is still finding its way into my subconcious mind. I guess I have worries that there was actually something I could have done to change history and feel less that it was my fault for being let go. If only I was in better shape before joining up. Of course this is fallacious, as I have an asthma condition anyway, and I was in Texas at a certain time of year, in a stressful environment feeling slightly undernourished and sleep-deprived.

Even though I was there only one week in the regular training environment (which they actually cram a lot of things to do in), and then a full month in a holding squadron, it has changed me. It certainly did so in much less time than any other big change in my life. Most things change a person gradually. Either over a lot of time, or only by a little bit. A month taught me more about a whole new world that exists as a subset of the United States, and a world within that of the military training environment itself. I'm not sure how many people there recognize this as they experience it, and perhaps that has to do with age and experience within their own lives before joining the military. Some people understand, I know, as I've met them. I found more comaraderie in the medical/holding squadron than in the training squadron. I found more childishness too. And I found more people that for one reason or another, were still waiting after more than a few months just to go home to families they would inevitably see due to their conditions, though unknowingly when.

For some people, the act of waiting so long with very little contact to the outside world around them was more debilitating than the reason they were sent to the holding squadron in the first place. It fueled them with sadness and anger. One of the more prominent people held in the squadron (as a wing leader of sorts) was there for the same reason as I: asthma. He had a worse case than I did. He left Texas a few days before I did, but had arrived nearly two months prior. I believe that being in training for that long causes more depression in the squadron than in the standard ones, at least on a percentage basis.

Most of my own feelings were of boredom, and somewhat irritated by the slowness of the system. As I was still in training, there were certain things we could not get out of, schedules of waking, eating, sleeping. There were less limitations on other things at basic training, though they still existed. And if you wanted something to do, you could shine your boots. You get good at that. Strangely I haven't dreamt about it.

I'm glad I wasn't there any longer than I was. I think that the length I stayed was not quite excessive, but would have been if I was held any longer (and as it was, I missed Valentine's Day by 24 hours). I'm also glad I was there. It's put new perspectives on some things in my life, and has taught me that sometimes when you don't like something you just have to deal with it. Not everything can be fixed right away, but everything can be dealt with one way or another, and things will eventually turn out OK.