"I was in a car, and there was a man with me. He sent, 'Grab one of the shotguns.' I looked at it, and it looked really weird and obtuse. Next to it I saw a small machine gun, and it looked a lot better. I picked it up and it felt heavy, so I assumed it was loaded. I somehow knew that the machine gun couldn't kill who we were going to fight, only the shotgun could, and the machine gun could hold them off, but couldn't kill them. I asked if the guy I was with wanted the machine gun, and he said no, so I put it in my pocket, and it somehow fit (it's a small one though). Then I saw another one and put that in my pocket too. Then we were in some sort of house, and things were jumping at us, and I was shooting at them with the shotgun. I wanted to use the machine gun but I knew it was basically useless...... I was in my school, and somebody took me from my regular Spanish class and lead me to my old Spanish class. They said I was being moved. As I sat there, I realized I hated it, and I was sad that I was moved."

I wrote this many hours after I had the dream, and many pieces of it are missing. However, I do remember the bulk, and the horrible feeling it gave me throughout the dream, especially that mishapen shotgun, that really affected me somehow. The last couple of dreams I've had have been bad, but that's kind of a good thing, because it's nice to wake up and know it's not real. However, when it's a good dream, and you find out it's not real... well that's not good.