Dreams.

I dreamt that I was in some unknown war, fighting for an unknown side. I remember there were some column-like shelters, and we had to hide behind them while running forward. And shells were whistling. I tried to calculate the approximate interval between their whistles because they came in bursts – the shells flew past, only the crackle of bullets remained, then the shells flew past again, and so on. I successfully ran to the first column, then to the second, but I miscalculated the intervals, and one of the shells hit me while I was running, and it burned my shoulder. I thought that since I was wounded, I should run back, so I ran back to the first column, but this time, a bullet hit me in the leg, approximately in the foot. I couldn't run and crawled back to the second column. Then, somehow, I ended up with the doctors. I explained to them where I was hit, and they started filling out papers. I said, "I didn't even do any initial treatment; maybe you can do something?" They said, "Oh, there wasn't even any initial treatment? Okay, we'll do it now." They laid me on a table and started discussing how to access my wounds. They started cutting my pants for some reason, even though I begged them not to – I really didn't want them to ruin my pants. Then they decided to start cutting my boot, and I really started to freak out – I remember thinking it was a very good boot, and there was no chance of replacing it. But they cut it anyway. Inside, there was a broken jar with some kind of pickles or something. The doctors were shocked by this, but I remembered that I had indeed kept some food supplies there for emergencies and didn't see anything wrong with it. Finally, they removed the pickles and examined the area of my leg that was hurting. There was no wound there, but there was a small, reddish bruise, about the size of a real bullet. I said, "Probably one of the pickles stopped the bullet's penetrating force and saved me from being wounded." The doctors looked at me like I was an idiot, but what else could I say? How else could I explain it? I said, "Well, I definitely have a real wound in my shoulder," although I don't remember if there were any bloodstains there or if I just imagined it because I felt blood on my body. And I even had time to think that next time, to avoid such a situation, I should put my fingers to the supposed wound and see if there is any blood on them – after all, they do that in movies for a reason. Then I woke up.