Here is the dream as I wrote it down in April of 1982:
An afternoon stroll through my childhood neighborhood was quite unexpectedly interrupted. Opposing factions appeared suddenly from nowhere. Setting up shop on either side of the road, they quickly displayed their hi-tech khaki hardware in a whir of organized chaos.
Caught behind a front line, supine and still I lay as the machine gun fire screamed in a ceaseless roar. Amidst all the excitement I was taken aback with all the pageantry. Engrossed with the exchange, the danger of the situation failed to alarm me and then a soldier fell. Riddled with bullets he dropped. Within spitting distance a man was killed. It could have been me. I jockeyed my position slightly and tried to hide myself behind another civilian caught by circumstance in a similar predicament.
The ground began to tremble quite violently. The exchange continued in a frenzy. Now I was scared. I wanted to run but froze in a fetal ball. The earth repelled the barrage of metal as the ground vibrated in a most eerie way.
Suddenly my side stopped firing. The return continued. Had we run out of bullets? I could not tell. One of the soldiers realized our fate. “It’s all over,” he said, as if he had accepted his imminent death. Someone yelled “Fire up into the sky!”
As I tried to prepare myself for my death, the return of fire continued intensely. The ground roared even louder. I tried to imagine how it might feel to be shot to death. I wanted to run but couldn’t move. “It’s useless,” I thought. “What a pointless way to die. I don’t want to die. Why does it have to be this way?” A tear fired from my eye at the unknown enemy as the soldiers fired up into the sky. I felt confused as to who they were surrendering.
Rage and mystery overtook my senses as we all gazed up into the sky.
Now, if you read the story of my traumatic experience, The Grim Reaper Makes a Housecall, you may note the following similarities:
The location -- the street outside my parent’s home;
The unexpected life and death event;
The feeling of fascination that preceded any sense of danger;
The very real sense of fear for my life;
The strange “tremble” and “roar” of the ground (the vibration in my arms and the buzzing in my ears);
The feelings of helplessness;
The feelings of unfairness;
Not wanting to die;
The final surrender.
Incidentally, that original dream (about facing my death) just so happened to be the very first dream I ever felt compelled to write down. Ever since that time, whenever I have had other prescient dreams, they always stand apart from my "normal" dreams, and as such, I am most always compelled to write them down. The only exception to this, thus far, has been a dream I called the dream of three shells. As soon as I woke up and remembered that particular dream, I knew it was prescient, however, because I didn't immediately understand what it was trying to tell me, and because the whole experience left me feeling terribly disturbed, all that I wished to do was forget about it. And I tried. But the dream stayed with me until a few days later I experienced an "aha" moment and understood what it meant. Only then did I write the whole thing down.