Tuesday, March 08, 2005

Home sweet home

While we are on the subject of posttraumatic stress disorder
"On the second visit, I focused on the right things… not my shrink’s long legs. I told her about my latest nightmare…

I camped outside with Abby. The moon was bright and the bull frogs and crickets loud. I love the Oklahoma country. As a kid, I slept outside all the time. This time I fell asleep in the back yard within a matter of minutes. I woke up hugging a tree in the front yard, crying and yelling.

My little bro said he was looking for me in the back yard when I started yelling “get down, mother fucker. Get down, or I’ll shoot.” I was chasing him with my arms at the ready. I chased him to the house and I was yelling for my friend “Sammy,” telling him to get his weapon and that Haji is everywhere. I then proceeded into the house at 3 a.m., pounding on doors telling everybody that Haji is everywhere and that we need to go. At first, they thought I was playing a joke until they looked into my eyes… they knew I was dreaming. When I woke up with my arms wrapped around a defoliated Craped Myrtle, my parents and little bro were there. I was relieved I was just dreaming… as the experience felt real. In the dream, I manned a guard tower at my parent’s house. We had a strong perimeter set up and somehow black man dresses surrounded the area."
In Iraq for 365
You can ship the soldier out of Iraq, but can you bring them back home?


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