Slept poorly. Familiar nightmare.
I'm in the village where I grew up (and to where I recently returned) and there's smoke, fire, ruined buildings and frightened people everywhere. My men and I are manning a defensive position by the bridge. We have to hold it, to let the refugees get away. We know this will be a last stand for us.
We hear the sounds of small arms and mortar fire in the distance. They're close. How long? Could be hours, could be days. We don't know. The radio net is quiet. All is in chaos. Our forces are retreating to regroup beyond the hills to the North and counter attack, but we doubt we'll live to see that.
I always wake up before the enemy arrive, before I actually see who the enemy are.
This dream scares the hell out of me. Dreams about my home often have an almost premonition-y vibe to them. I even dreamed about the street I'd move into two years before I'd given any thought to moving back here, even about the bus route my wife now takes to work.
I always wake up from this dream afraid for my family's safety.