Last night, I dreamed of death. Horrid, morbid death.
It started like this. Last week, my church sent its first missionary to Timor Leste. Last night, I dreamed that he had been gunned down. In the middle of a gunfight. Which he filmed on video. While brandishing a machine gun. It had a very "Blair Witch-cum-war news correspondent" feel to it.
But later, it wasn't he who had died, but an ex-secondary school classmate-cum-Scout. He had died in a car accident. A huge vehicle (truck?) had smashed into the driver's side and he died instantly.
Now I know these visions couldn't be real because of what happened next. A few people were collecting gifts for the deceased's family -- and these people were my colleagues! Whom I rarely interact with. And who most likely have never interacted with said missionary or ex-classmate.
I have an overactive imagination.
Technorati tags: dream, death
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