Warlords, parents and old friends.

Tonight there were many dreams. I can recall a few.

First a couple of warlords struggled for power. There was a very sad scene when the one who lost was saying his good-byes to his former land, which was now in disarray. This is probably because I watched "War" last night.

Then my father and I were traveling through Italy and he became young and exited the train and I remained inside. When the conductor came she wanted to take my ticket but I begged her not to because I wanted to get off at the net stop and wait for my father to catch up. I asked the passengers nearby to confirm that I had told her the truth. She agreed. When I got out at the next stop my father waited for me there already.

Next I was in a company of my high school friends and reminisced about our time together. Then more of them joined us and we started throwing dirt at each other.

Running away.

Very vague recollection now. Two girls were friends but they had to separate and become enemies. As they were stepping away from each other each of them committed suicide. They shot themselves. When I saw the sequence it was quite beautiful as they were running away in two different direction, without looking back and decided to remain true to their friendship at they same time.

Wounded girl on a bus.

Today's dream is a short one. I do not recall anything else but this little episode.

Whilst I was getting on a kneeling bus in a big city I saw a girl lying inside. Someone helped her up and directed her to the bus' front door, strange enough. I rushed to the door to help her off but she darted past me and collapsed on sidewalk. I think her head was bleeding. Someone screamed to let her lying as she cannot be moved in her condition.

A man rushed across the street to the nearest pay phone to call 911. I kneeled down to the girl. She had straight dark hair, shoulder length. Blood was coming out her head on her right side. The man was shouting at me from across the street asking if she had a phone number. I asked her if she had a phone, in Russian first and then in English. She opened her eyes and started telling me her phone number: "666 - 121 - ...." I was repeating the digits to the man on the pay phone across the street. Last four digits she mumbled as she was out of breath and out of strength.

I ran across the street to the man to rush him. I looked back. The bus stop was in front of a building with a two-story high granite siding with embossed number twelve.

This is all I can recall. I hope the girl is alright.