Decisions in Covert Ops

Am I a member of a secret program? Why on Earth would I dream of this, and how could I have put together the content into such an elaborate story as a dream experience? Operations so covert, not even the operatives remember or recognize the mission as having been real.

Night of July 6/7th 2013 - 
This dream is retold exactly how my thought processes were in sync to the dream experience. In other words, all the non-dialogue information is real-time observation and thought during the dream.


Busy city just after sunset. I am around the corner of a high-rise building with a rebel civilian group of assassins dressed in full body black clothing and assault rifles attached to a holding sash around their shoulder and torso. They also seem to be wearing large black shades over their eyes, flattened to the contour of their face. I am being asked to participate in a mission. They need me to infiltrate the high society club that is currently partying on a top floor of said building. Their target, a powerful, corporate head of unethical business practices and secret dealings, is a prized member enjoying himself up there as we speak. Hesitant to be the catalyst for an assassination, I express my concerns. I know that they mean well, that they are representing the populace by taking on the difficult responsibility of taking out the corrupt powers that exploit the lower classes and less advantaged. "What's the name of our target?" The codename they were aware of was "Mswarto" (not accurate on the name, this is as close as I can remember). "How am I supposed to know who this person is in the crowd?" One of them replies back, "You will know."

The next instance I bump into a man with a robust stature, a few inches shorter than me, wearing a gaudy white suit trimmed with gold and gold sungalsses. I am up in that club somehow, wearing a tight white summer dress from my actual wardrobe that accentuates my figure, as well as my other assets. There is a sucker in my hand. Ah. That is the role they have me playing. [There is a moment where I am confused and have to look around, look at myself and at what I am holding, making it clear to me that there was a shift in consciousness from where I was down on the plaza ground below the building, not just a typical leap in sequence typical of the dreaming state. I was aware of this instant, and unexpected jump.] I hop into character, by putting the sucker in my mouth and making sweet on him in my apology with a flirtatious tease.

The room is lit with red lighting to set the mood of this high class party as being for sexual experimentation and free indulgence. "I like you." He says, and invites me to join him in a little fun. Needing an in to gather information so I can figure out who this M guy is, I agree temptuously. However, I wonder if this will actually distract me from finding the target. I look around the room before following him and catch sight of a woman I immediately recognize to be my back-up partner, also undercover. Seeing me distracted and becoming offended, he questions if I am going to come. I am reminded in this instant how easily my cover can be blown, and how challenging it can be to uphold such a grand ruse. If I ever blanked on a comeback, or doubted myself, or failed to recover from an accusation, I could be dead. I turn back to him to follow and say "Of course, show me what you got."

He brings me to a couch in a corner of the room and lays me down. What am I getting myself into? This is a sex party; I don't know what crazy things he likes. An assistant has brought him a rolling cart with some device and appears to be setting it up. My suitor turns to me from the device holding two small clamps each attached to a long black taped wire leading to the device that I know realize to be designed for transferring shock. Oh shit. What have I got myself into. I try to play it cool by acting out of anticipation. He attaches one to the center of my underwear over my vagina, a guess on his part of where the most stimulating spot is, and the other to somewhere on my chest. He turns it on. I expected an electrifying torture, but instead felt a mild flow of electricity that served somewhat like a vibrator. Staying true to the situation, I permitted myself to indulge, thinking in terms of what I would do if my pretend were real. I adjust the clamp to be directly over where he intended it to be, and reacted with greater satisfaction. It was truly thrilling.

Someone approached him from the crowd to talk to him. He was annoyed at being bothered while he was in the middle of a date. The person called him by name "Mswarto". It is him! Excellent. I am on track, already establishing a closeness to the target. Still receiving pleasure and feeling my vision ripple as the sensations build, I watch what is going on to show that I am also annoyed that this person is disrupting the attention of my mad scientist. [Hmm. A scientist's white robe... with gold trim.]. When his name is mentioned transparent letters of gray outline appear at the bottom of my vision. It is showing me that his name is an acronym, but I didn't read the transparent letters, only the highlighted ones that make up his name. He is called away to deal with something. I speak in my mind as though I am delivering intel back to my crew on the ground waiting in their van for my signal. "His name isn't Mswarto, it's an acronym, and is supposed to be 'Ms.' (or Mrs.?). He's a woman! I know I have just discovered a break in the case with this intel. This person is a shapeshifter of sorts. You only see what you are aware of.

When she returns, she is an old woman in an elaborate Victorian-style gown. [Is she the queen I saw in a previous dream who was swallowed up in a conspiracy of false perceptions about what is happening to her kingdom, who was bitten by disguised vampires from her court. Due to her level of deterioration, soul illness, she was, for all intents and purposes, converted to their side, hindering her own kingdom's prosperity and safety.] I am sitting on the couch waiting, watching my undercover partner and another undercover partner, this time male, moving close to one another to evaluate our team's status by way of eye movement and gesture (nonverbal communication). Really they are evaluating the liklihood of my success.

Ms. Warto catches me again looking at my female partner and voices her suspicions, almost with a jealous tone. They begin to kiss to keep in character with the mood of the place. I come up with a quick explanation, saying I came here with a man, and point to my male teammate. I say he ditched me upon our arrival to be with another woman, that he got caught up in the setting. "See how he is with her, disregarding that I am even present at the same party? That is why I was distracted earlier." Success. She showed incredible sympathy for my story, cursing the male who 'cheated on me'. My female partner unexpectedly approached us. I quickly updated her on my story by saying "Isn't that right? You stole my man. He came here with me and he seems to like you more." She caught on, but reacted with little emotion before saying "Well it seems you found someone else anyway?" "Yes I did." I clung to Ms. Warto to highlight my new found attachment to, and appreciation, for her. She being possessive herself, was gratified by my display.

The room changes so that it is the same location but it is no longer the scene for the club, it is her hotel suite. I look around and stop at the kitchen entrance, trying to piece together what I should do. She caught me staring into space and asked what was wrong. "Oh, I guess I just can't get over his betrayal." She related to my experience, hinting at her own past abuses, so I played it up. I should be crying. I need to bring forth some tears. I had a great inner struggle to try and summon forth an appropriate emotional response. Finally I did, but again I was reminded, as I have been at every turn, how easy it can be to loose control of the farce.

At some point while I was going through my pack of clothing, as I was staying with Ms. Warto, my female partner came in and started blabbing to the white sheet set up like a curtain to separate the room for us. Ms. Warto was behind that curtain though, not me, as my partner figured. She started talking about receiving questions on our intended extraction and the status of the target. I flagged her down until she saw me. She recovered by pretending she was on the phone and was connected her revealed info to some other matter, then left. I hoped her flub hadn't tipped the Ms. off about our hidden agenda. 

Unfortunately, I played my hurt too well. It backfired. She was so overcome with sadness about my story that she decided to avenge my honor. In a brutal murder, she repeatedly shot my partners, cursing her behaviors and lack of regard for others. I saw this in horror, and spoke my outrage at her backwards logic of a life for an action. In grief I let slide that she hadn't really hurt me. With the truth of my word under question, she began to put together the lie. I ran for the suite balcony before she completed her train of thought, and leapt over. If I fell, she could shoot me on my way down. Instead, I slid down to the bottom of the railing and used the momentum of the leap and the catch of the railing to swing my legs underneathe the balcony. I suspended myself under her balcony. My mission had failed with casualties of the highest price.

The scene rebooted. I am back in the room beside Ms. Warto who is laying in a hospital type of bed that makes me think she is ill. My partners in the room are now my son and my older sister from my real life. This way they are both welcome with me in her home, except my son is not known to her to be my son, nor is my sister known to be my sister. Rather I found this boy and have brought him in to stay with my generous beneficiary. The Ms. is falling asleep. Everything is being setup for me to make the final call to bring in the hit squad. I am faced with an ethical dilemma. I have grown fond of her willingness for charity towards us, how could she be corrupt? She doesn't trust anyone because of her power and position, but has adopted us as someone to connect to.

The power goes out for the hotel. I know it is a sign by the ground team I signed on with that I am taking too long. They are pushing me to make a choice by setting up the circumstances for a swift assassination. It might be a mercy since she has been sick for sometime. My sister whispers, asking if now is the time since she's falling asleep. We need to do so smoothly though, so I tell the Ms the power is out and I am taking them all to the bathroom down the hall.

We three leave and walk down to the end of the hall that looks like a dormitory hallway. It is crowded with other members of this high-society community. They are carelessly enjoying themselves, much like frivolous college students, actually. We have to be careful not to arouse suspicion. My son recognizes the names above the bathroom (like a dedication) and exclaims his excitement like these actors played Batman or some superhero he loved. I quieted him. The Ms wasn't supposed to know that he was my son, and somehow if she heard his outburst, she would know. I hurried us into a stall, again kicking myself for how suspicious two adults and a child crowding into a little stall is. I pull out my phone, cover the speaker, and begin to text a proud comment rubbing my success in their faces, but instead, for clarity's sake, because I didn't want to risk losing these two partners, I instead formed how I would phrase these two commands: request for immediate extraction, and target is acquired. Protecting my partners became more important, so I fulfilled the mission. I was already too deep to not walk out with a casualty one way or another. I had to choose whether I would risk that being one of my team (family in this second scenario), or the original target that I got into all this over. I woke up in the middle of texting.

Interspersed throughout these two undercover sequences are little side vignettes of what I can only label as 'breaks'. I am transported on a bus with other peers to stop at a store and figure out lunch. I run here and there to make something extra healthy and yummy with my old girlfriend:  all the makings for a sandwich rather than a pre-made deli one, fruit, and avocado. We felt we were running over the time allotted for shopping, and rushed as best we could back to the bus.

In another side sequence mixed into the primary undercover sequences, I am walking through the streets of a neighborhood. A gang on skateboards, which resonated with their disruptive, anarchical intentions, approached from down the street. An older woman tending her garden fled indoors at the sight of them. They have been causing trouble for the neighborhood. Why hadn't someone dealt with them yet? I wondered. Well, someone has to I suppose. It's apparent their reign has been happening for too long already. So I take a fighting stance and challenge them. The scene cuts back over.

I do not recall where these side vignettes were cut into the main sequences. But they were examples of how one linear progression can be paused while I explore another timeline of a different place and purpose than the one being paused. This is done to answer or reiterate something that has come up in the primary sequence so I am informed or better equipped to continue. It is a way of dealing with mental distractions from the main mission, issues that would otherwise persist and possibly interfere with my ability to focus. Quite clever.