Tuesday, January 3, 2012

The Dreaded Phone Call


When I was younger, my parents always had me study for my spelling tests right before I would go to sleep, with the belief that studying right before you went to sleep helped your brain to retain the information. I’m sure we’ve all heard that before though, so it’s not really “new” news. While I always did really well on my spelling tests, I’m not entirely convinced that it was because I studied before I went to sleep. I think it is just because I have always found spelling to be rather easy. (Please note that any spelling errors in this blog is most likely a “typo” and not an actual spelling error—I dislike proofreading, so I only do it when I have to). And, to be completely honest, I spent many a night studying late at night, even falling asleep while studying for some of my college courses, and I don’t think it helped any.

Either way, I never had dreams about spelling, or accounting, or anything else that I studied before I went to bed at night. At least not that I remember.

Which bring me to my next observation—I remember a LOT of my dreams. According to my 10th grade Psychology class, that is BAD. That means that I am frequently woken up while during my REM sleep cycle which means I actually end up being more tired than I would, had I woken up and not remembered my dreams. Either way, my dreams are usually pretty crazy. If I actually believed that what you dreamt about had some hidden meaning, I would probably check myself into some dream analysis hospital, which would very quickly land me in a mental institution.

Occasionally I have fairly normal, realistic dreams though, and lately those dreams have been so vivid that I wake up wondering if I was dreaming, or if at least part of that dream really happened. As much as I would like to say that this blog post is about one of those crazy, screwed up, “how on Earth did I come up with THAT?” dreams, it’s not. It’s about one of the normal, realistic ones.

A few days ago, early in the morning, my husband and I were still sleeping. I have no idea what time it ACTUALLY was, but in my mind, I was thinking it was like 5am. I realize now that it was probably more like 8am, but whatever. We were still sleeping, and Steve’s phone rang. He looked at the number, and chose to ignore it. But, since he knew that it (barely) woke me up, he asked, “Who would be calling with a number that is all 1s?” Which spiraled me straight into a sleep induced panic, and VERY vivid dream. I heard the little “beep” informing him that the caller had left a voicemail for him. I told him (in my sleep) that he needed to listen to it RIGHT NOW to find out what they wanted. He didn’t, he just rolled over and went back to sleep.

It was very stressful to me that I didn’t know what the caller wanted (although, apparently not stressful enough to keep me awake because I fell asleep almost immediately after I told him he needed to listen to the voicemail RIGHT NOW. This whole thing probably requires a little further explanation—like why I was so adamant about knowing RIGHT NOW, and why it stressed me out so much to not know, and left me in a panic in my sleep. There actually is a very legitimate reason for feeling all of this, and here it is:

In the Marine Corps, they have what are called a “Family Readiness Officers”, or as Milspouses call them, “FROs”. While these people are available to help military families with anything, deployed or not, one of their more well-known duties, is to relay information to the families of deployed Marines, and to help those families cope with their Marine being gone. While Marines are deployed, they will send out (automated) phone calls to the families with any updates they receive. I was on the “calling list” while Steve was in Afghanistan. Whenever they would call, the number would show up on my phone as all 1s.

In my pretty much completely sleeping stupor, for some reason, I was certain that it was the FRO calling us to inform us that Steve was being called back into active duty. Now this isn’t a COMPLETELY nutso thought. It really could happen. Steve technically still has 2+ years of inactive duty left, meaning that if the need arises, they can call him back to go to war. Generally this would mean a deployment of mass proportions—as in every military man in the country who was “active duty” would have to be deployed before Steve would have to go again, and with all branches of the military currently OVER staffed, it is unlikely that will happen. But not impossible. The one slightly “nutso” aspect of that, is why I thought it would be the automated FRO phone call that would be informing us that he was being called back.

I was so confused about why we would be getting a phone call from them at all, that was the only conclusion that I could come to. It never even occurred to me that some one else’s number might show up like that. I think that’s why I wanted him to listen to the voicemail RIGHT NOW. I wanted to know why they were calling us.

I fell asleep thinking about this, and for once in my life, what I fell asleep thinking about actually reflected in my dreams. I dreamt that it was, in fact, the FRO. Luckily, he wasn’t calling to inform us that Steve had been reactivated, he was calling us to inform us of some heart condition that many of the Marines that were in Steve’s unit were experiencing, due to some kind of chemical or gas that they had been exposed to where they went. And that he should go to the VA and get checked out immediately.

Now, this isn’t entirely crazy either, although I am a little curious how it came into play. Steve was exposed to plenty of gases that were deemed “cancerous”, during his active duty. Not to mention the fact that they (meaning the Marines in the occupation) have come to the conclusion that “Trackers” are not able to have sons. And so far it has proven true to all but 1 person that I know—and that one’s son was born before he was in the Marine Corps, so that hardly counts. Again, that part that I don’t really understand is why I thought the FRO would be calling to inform us. When actually (since Steve is already dealing with the VA) it would probably be his doctor at the VA that would inform him of this.

Anyway, I woke up not too long after that, and was completely confused. I had no idea why I was dreaming about that, or how much of it was true. I didn’t know if the phone call had really been from the FRO, or if there even was a phone call, or if it was all a dream. I was going to ask Steve (who had also just woken up), if someone had called that had a number with all 1s, risking feeling like a complete moron, but I didn’t have to. Just as I was thinking about asking, he picked up his phone and called his voicemail. I listened, heart racing, as he keyed in his password and waited for the very kind-sounding, yet annoying “voicemail lady” to inform him that he had a new message.

I was relieved to hear that it was some lady asking about a tool repair.

I have heard about military men coming back from war and having flashbacks through dreams of their time in the warzone. And all the post-traumatic stress symptoms. I have even heard of milspouses with injured or KIA soldiers experiencing the Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder symptoms through the recollections of their husbands. I’m not implying that I have anything remotely close to post-traumatic stress, but I did find it very odd, how worked up I got about a phone number. How panicked I got wondering why the military was calling us, and the sense of urgency of needing to know RIGHT NOW.

Although this “lesson” is something that I already knew, it was a good reminder that war affects everyone. It doesn’t just stop at the soldiers, or even their families. It goes beyond that a plays a role in everyone’s lives—whether they like it or not. And it doesn’t just go away—even the smallest triggers can send feeling flooding back.

So, no picture for this one either—I’m not doing so hot on the “picture” aspect of my New Years’ Resolution, but honestly, I’m not sure what I would take a picture of to go with this story, so I will save the picture for another blog post.

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