I dreamed the other night that I was back from patrol, or maybe getting ready to go out again. It was night, and I was outside, walking around the building in which we were garrisoned. I heard something and turned around. Incoming was a roaring, flaming something coming straight for our place. I hit the ground and started low-crawling like a fiend. There was kind of a jolt, like a thud, but no sound, and no rubble. I was still scrabbling, trying to find something good to get behind. There was a stack of concrete pillars lying down ahead and to my right, but not at a good angle for cover. Pretty quickly, I had crawled around the edge of the building and saw somebody down. I got over to him. He was facedown, in vest and full gear. He was moaning and yammering incoherently. I asked him what day it was and he said, "September the 45th." I looked around for anyone to help me drag him to safety. There was somone on the porch, crouching behind the low porch wall, but I couldn't make them out ... and then I woke up.