While I know this dream started out with a bit more emphasis on everyday-minutemen (an odd cross of country-folk and military-themes) what I remember was noticing how the frogs' eyes glowed.
These were the patriots; rare-pepe armed with a k-98. I could feel slighly safer knowing they were enduring the pouring rain in the incredible darkness.
I don't think I was a frog myself, but I had a spear, or maybe a rifle, or maybe it was a flag. The thing I was holding upright for most of the latter part of this dream kept morphing, slightly, from one to the next.
I remember noticing as the patriot stood at attention, his broad head shape and outward eye placement meant I figured he couldn't see anything below neck-height. Though truthfully as dark as it was I could barely see his eyes, let alone anything else. But the glow of his eyes revealed the outline of a mickey-mouse hat floating through the wet gloom.
I scowled. "Ah. The enemy is here."
My weapon was braced in the mud, and since the rain had just picked up the pace I lost sight of the patriot's eyes, and so I just sort of waved my weapon back and forth to prevent the enemy from sneaking up on me.
And it squelched against something squishy, and the thing jiggled in and out of my space. I pushed on it and slid back. The crushing darkness, lonliness, and a sense of weariness pressed on me. I was laying in the mud now, desparately trying to gain the leverage to dislodge the enemy from my space.
It moved a bit, and the rain let up and I could see I was on a mattress, and so was an 8-ish year old girl, wearing a simple dress. As I pressed my weapon against the still-present mass, it would press against her foot (she was laying facing away from me) and as she rocked back and forth with my spear's motion she would try to make fake erotic moans.
Squinting, I managed to speak through the heaviness in the air. It took effort, but I said aloud "I rebuke you, in the name of Jesus Christ."
She shrieked, and spun around and crawled back towards me, leaping into my face spitting accidentally as she screamed "But I don't WANT to be rebuked"
The next time I levered my rifle I pulled it up, used the buttstock to slide her off the bed, and she again spun around but this time she was a python, fat and dark-tan and sullen of mood.
Again I rebuked this enemy, and when I pressed the haft of the spear, braced against the ground, against my unwanted bedmate, it against leapt into motion, spinning and coming back as a lump of clay, sort of.
I could still see the patriot-frog in the distance (that is, about ten feet away. He hadn't moved or responded), the glow of his eyes faded by my reduced height, and the gloom I felt. One last time I poured myself into heaving against my lever to oust the mad jelly, who was more sullen than insane but still jiggly and unmoving at the same time. Once more I named Jesus as my source, and this time, teeth gritted ...
I woke up. Feeling washed out, a little hopeless, and weirded out by windows, I guess I won.