Submitted by a gender-bending autumn_sunfire

Last night I was sleeping really patchily. At one point I dreamed that I was in a spy network right as World War I was about to start. I was posing as a German soldier but for some reason we were all talking in British accents and it really bothered me. While my group was discussing spy plans in the totally safe location of a German general's livingroom, someone came in the room and I spilled my tea. I had no idea what was proper soldierly protocol in this situation, so I went to the kitchen to inquire.The cook, or whoever he was, gave me completely irrelevant advice, which I initially protested. Then I realized he was trying to hint that he couldn't do anything about my problem and was giving me some kind of coded instructions to follow instead. I didn't know this code, but I gave it a shot anyway. Feeling foolish for approaching the general of the army with what to do about my spilled tea, I marched up the stairs and brought up my arm in a flawless salute. I opened my mouth to deliver my false name... and couldn't remember it. Thankfully, the same name happened to be on a poster on the wall nearby, so with my memory refreshed, I sailed on.And stumbled over the name. Because I had never practiced saying it out loud.

C'mon, c'mon, it couldn't be that hard... I darted another glance at the billboard and mentally enunciated the name, not daring to look too long, because the general's kindly sympathetic eyes were on me. He must have thought I was nervous.

I tried again. Failed. Awkward, breathy laugh.

General: "Yes? What is it, boy?"

Again I looked at the billboard, summoned all my willpower, and threw it into a third valiant effort. I couldn't get past the third syllable. (It was a freaking long name, too.)

Because this was a dream, I actually got inside the general's head for a minute. He was thinking at this point, "I remember this kid years ago... he always stumbled over the middle portion of those two long Germanic names, but not the beginning..."

There. If I could just get past the beginning, I would be safe. I tried once more, but my tongue tangled shamefully and I looked in despair at the billboard, realizing that the general's eyes were now following mine, that he was definitely going to put two and two together, and the game was up.

I fled. Turns out I had been in my employer's house, and all my siblings were out on the farm grounds. They gave chase to my desperately running figure. I kept falling down due to the charming nature of dreams, and also found myself assailed by regions of massively tall, thick grass that I could only hope impeded my pursuers' progress as much as mine.

It was getting dark. I was aiming for the dirt road just east of the property, where at least I would be able to run freely. Unfortunately, my bearings were off and I ended up in front of a sign that said, "MAJESTIC FOREST PRESERVE" or something like that. People say you can't read in dreams, but I read this very clearly. Twice, because I was trying to tell whether the fine print actually said what I thought it did, and yes, "equipment or humans caught beyond this area will be shot".Yay. I was toast.I turned back, but everyone had caught up and I was surrounded. One of my sisters suddenly decided to sidle up to my side and ask if I was okay. No, I was not, but I gave her a reassuring smile anyway.I wondered if I would be tortured, or if the army were above such cruel procedures now. Anyway, I would definitely be hanged. This bothered me vaguely as I was "prepared for transport" back to the farm. This seemed to necessitate lying me on a cozy mattress and covering various parts of my body with balloons, putting my old non-spy clothes in with me, and cocooning the whole in some weird cylinder of pink netting. I submitted and wondered when we would get on with things.
The general came to talk to me after I was deposited back at my employer's front porch. The clothes next to me were now my spy clothes, not my personal ones, but I don't remember changing. He fingered the socks, which had my impersonated name and the names of my impersonee's siblings on it, and asked me why I had done it. I realized or "remembered" that we had killed this person in order to get my spy identity, and that he was trying to make me feel guilty. It worked. He also mumbled on about how we had done an excellent job, which soothed my wounded ego (I couldn't believe my stupidity in not practicing my name before I said it in front of anybody).

The dream tailed off into sitting with Mercy in Trump's "metachorial tower", whatever that was. Mercy was recording the computer monitor on her phone and laughing because it manifested as green screen. I think I might have been Trump's prisoner for spying or something.The End.