I had a weird one last night where i was fighting in some war that was playing out on the streets of Dublin. For some reason i understood it to be World War 2, it was back in the olden times anyway, and it was playing out in black and white in my dream like an old film. Anyway @Fagan_ODowd had posted something here in advance that he too would be fighting in this war representing the Waterford brigade or some such. So there we are in the thick of things, i must have been representing the Limerick branch, anyway we were on the same side, and the next thing i see the Waterford brigade in front of me. They were the first line the mad bastards and pushing something ahead of them like a big weapon, this armoured thing with spikes sticking out of it, like a game of thrones type scenario advancing on the enemy with this thing and meanwhile getting pelted with gun fire and weapons from the enemy. They had like a banner overhead saying Waterford 4th brigade or something and it was blue and white. I remember thinking Fagan could be up there stuck in that and they were all sitting ducks. The next thing there was an explosion and most of the Waterford fellas ended up fucked on the ground with very bad injuries or dead. I advanced ahead quickly looking for Fagan but they were mostly younger fellas. Then i saw this auld lad, he was wearing a flat cap, and he writhing in agony. I held him there in my arms and i was shouting for help but the scene was pandemonium. There was no-one coming. He died there in my arms. He just sort of gradually diminished and then vanished in my arms into thin air as opposed to dying and then leaving a physical corpse. I woke up after that and i broke down crying.