"I was the Master Chief again, and I was shooting grunts from a tower with a sniper rifle. I was missing a lot, but I had a lot of ammo. I missed an Elite maybe three times before I hit him, even though he wasn't moving much. Then I was somewhere, with all these other people. They didn't seem to appreciate me even though I was the Master Chief (now I was out of the armor). I was trying to get this one person to like me, but it wasn't working, even though I was the freaking Master Chief. Then I got back in the armor and we went into a place, and there were lots of jackals. I was shooting them but there shields were blocking most of the bullets, so I started killing them by melee. I looked behind a corner and there were like thirty jackals, so I threw a grenade, and they all scrambled. Before I saw what happened, I was back at the base place, and there were people who were standing holding trays. They asked me if I wanted a job being a tray holder, and I needed a job so I said okay."

That feeling of unappreciation was worse than the terror in my 11/6 dream. Nobody liked me even though I was the main guy. It didn't feel good.