I had the most vivid dream last night...

I'm in uniform (ACUs).  I'm walking between two old beachfront hotels, all whitewashed stucco and palm trees, down to a beach that looks like Daytona or maybe Jacksonville.  Feels like late morning and the breeze is warm but it's not really hot yet.  I am standing there at the edge of the concrete where it meets the sand.  I am approached by an older couple (late 50s to early 60s) that start to chat me up.  They thank me for my service and I say "thank you" as I bow my head slightly.  "I appreciate that."  (This is a true depiction of how I usually react to such thanks.)  They continue speaking and it soon becomes apparent that they are making a pitch for a retirement community there in the beach city I'm in.  I demur and say, "Thanks but I live in the barracks.  Uncle Sam gives me a place to stay.  I'm cool but thanks anyway."  They appear to be well trained salespeople and begin to "handle my objection" as we say in Recruiting Duty.  I continue to remonstrate politely and turn to go.  I find myself facing a one story cinder block building fronted by a shady thatched roofed patio cabana.  I step into the shade of the cabana and go through a set of glass double doors into what seems to be a USO-type lounge crossed with an open-bay barracks.  Lots of day-room rec equipment, couches and a big T.V. up front with two long rows of bunk beds down the length of the room.  As I am milling around one of the beds, the persistent condo sales folks are still with me, dump-trucking all the reasons why their condo community is the perfect place to spend the sunset years.  All I keep thinking about is "Cocoon" or "The Green Mile" and thinking, No way.  They ask me if I think I deserve to get treated right in my retirement?  After serving my country all these years, don't I deserve to get something back?  A thought pops into my head.  A way out of this clingy sales pitch.  I say, "No.  But I do think about all those guys who never got the chance to have any golden years.  And the ones whose golden years will be spent suffering the effects of horrible wounds and trauma.  That stops them cold.  I continue, "I bet they sure could use some peace and easy living."  I begin to choke-up and my eyes fill with tears.  I look down at a bag between my feet and squat to zip it up, averting my eyes.  It's all crocodile tears, of course.  I'm just trying to find away to throw them off and get them to go away.  It works.  The woman chokes up herself and pats my arm saying how sweet I am and how grateful she is for all we've done.  They quietly turn and leave.  I am happy to have pulled off a tactic that defeated the two smarmy hucksters and woke up feeling both haughty and guilty.