Waterways and A-bombs

It's occurred to me that these dreams must have some symbolism in them. Why else would I be a soldier in many of them? I normally take on a reconnaissance role, but this time I was with a regular unit. No longer a lone wolf.
My dreams are often in monochrome or full color. This was the first time it started out in sepia. I could hear the artillery falling around, and feel the reverberations through the soles of my boots. I trudged along with my squad at the bottom of a water way, winding through the outskirts of a country town.
We kept going through the flooded trench, using it as cover from God only knows. A few shells actually struck a bridge up ahead, it's collapse causing us to detour through a storm drain.
And then there was pandemonium. I should have realized this dream was a period piece from the gear my squad was carrying, but it only came to mind when I saw the enemy. I was in the middle of World War II. Or as close an approximation as my mind can come to it from movies books and video games.
I charged ahead, looking for an open shot. The enemy disappeared as quickly as they came. Looking ahead in the storm drain, I thought I had seen an enemy soldier trying to put on an allied uniform, but my Captain tapped me on the shoulder and pointed me down a side tunnel. When I looked back, the enemy was gone.
We emerged further along the waterway, and I was led up some stairs toward a field just outside the town. Leaning against a battered brick wall, I set my rifle down next to me, looking at the rest of my squad enjoying the fireworks on a clear starry night. I guess the war was over.
The Captain came up and handed me a cigarette. I took a glance at it in between my fingers, but didn't smoke it. I held it at my side and let it burn while he told me about the bomb. They couldn't find it. And he said that there were enemy infiltrators in the area. That wasn't news to me.
The smoke from the fireworks hadn't cleared. And out from the din, like a phantom, came a dirigible, loaded with an atomic bomb. My Captain shouted something about 'Little Boy', which was one of the bombs dropped on Japan. This place didn't look like Japan, and the swastikas on the balloon didn't make it American.
I dove for the heavy machine gun on the ground and tried to shoot it down. The balloon went up in a gout of flame, and I prayed that the bomb wouldn't go off when it hit the ground. Then more blimps rose into the air, a swarm surrounding us, each carrying an atomic payload. My comrades ran to and fro, getting weapons, and firing into the air. I tried to shoot down as many as I could. One was getting away. I took careful aim, held down the trigger, and I opened my eyes with the blaring of my alarm.
I'm not sure how I should feel about that dream. Strangely, when I had awoken, I felt more refreshed than I had in awhile, despite the bare three hours of sleep. And while the dream was still fresh in my mind, my thoughts were soon taken up by a girl. I still had a scene to finish, and after a quick shower, I was back at the keyboard, typing away. Even as I wrote about her, I paused now and then to type this out.
Where are you when I need you, Tex?

Rather disturbing...

I had a particularly disturbing dream last night. Once again, it involved people I've lost touch with, though more recently. Maybe there's some kind of message here. It's probably pretty straightforward all things considered.
I started out in a garden. Stone walls covered in ivy with a moss drenched birdbath by an archway. It looked pretty old, and while I've never been there it felt familiar. There was a headstone sticking up from the ground to the right of the archway.
Standing on the grave was a former coworker of mine. I wouldn't exactly call us friends, but we were friendly enough. She was a tanned latina, brown eyes, with dark auburn hair that reached to the middle of her back. I've always thought of her as bright, and if she didn't have a boyfriend, I might have considered asking her out.
But that's neither here nor there. She's standing on the grave, looking down at the headstone. Neither of us has to speak for me to realize it's hers. I knew that before I walked up and read the name off of it. She turned to me, and spoke. It was happening today. Maybe soon. Then others approached, from all around, surrounding her. And the next thing I realized, I was being pushed aboard a rail tram. If you've played Half-Life, then you have a good idea of what it looked like. I found myself alone in it as it wound through a cavernous tunnel, shaped like a long diamond. Upon exiting, it approached a hospital and stopped at one of the upper levels.
The place was bustling. Patients waited on chairs and benches, nurses walked briskly across the carpeted floor, a doctor or two leading a stretcher into rooms. And there she was to my left, lying in a bed. Against a window in a room this busy. She was accompanied by one or two coworkers, and a few people I didn't recognize.
The two seated in chairs at the foot of her bed where girls I knew from the fencing club. People I didn't think she would know, though in a place like Pasadena, anything is possible. They made way for me when I walked up to her. She said it was time, and before I could make a reply, my alarm went off.
Hours later, and it's still quite clear in my mind. I wonder what that's about.