survival

I dreamt that I was in a building, like an old plantation house. My dad, my brother and I were leaving and going to walk out the front door on to the porch. The porch was very large and surrounded the house and there were a wide set of steps leading down to a very large front yard about the size of a field. Many people were out there and there was much commotion. It seemed we were walking into a war of some kind. I noticed now that we all had a gun and so were prepared in a small way to engage. My dad and brother paused and sat on the steps, I standing behind them. My dad was holding my brother's hand as if to comfort him, both of them faced forward. I felt as though they must have a stronger link between them that I was unconscious of. It didn't feel bad, it just was.

We walked out into the array of boys and guns and they went one way and I was solo with my gun. As I looked at who I was fighting, they truly were boys. None of them more than 5 feet tall, with little uniforms and caps that looked like they were from the civil war. One boy tried to shoot me but I gained control of his arms and stole his gun. I thought I was good then, but he had another gun hidden in a pocket, which I wrestled from him as well. Finally I realized if I wanted to live, I had to shoot. I grabbed his musket, which had a long very skinny barrel of metal with no wood surrounding it and shot. The bullet left the barrel in slow motion, but kept straight to my target. I knew I could hit anything I pointed the gun at with accuracy. I exclaimed it out loud to anyone that was listening. I shot again and again, not to kill, but to live.