I am using a computer. I point to a screen that is showing a documentary on Cambodia. There are a few scenes of the capitol city, then a man accompanies a woman singer, who has related several medical problems before regaining her voice. She sings as he plays the piano. I change the screen and see images of the war. There are helicopters on the ground waiting to take off. It is live footage. A platoon is running down a jungle slope. One soldier throws a grenade. They are chasing the enemy. Then I am part of this platoon and the terrain has changed from a hill covered by thick bush to a long slope covered by short grass. There is bamboo on either side. We begin to take incoming rockets. I hear the initial whoosh, followed by the thud and crash. Then the rockets come closer, and it is clear they are aiming at me. They are walking them in like mortars, not vertically, but horizontally, missing me by a few meters at most, and I must anticipate the next rocket by moving correctly either to the left or right or I will be killed. It is like a child's game. I am trapped out in the open, running back and forth every few seconds, completely focused on what is taking place. I am not scared, but then I see the enemy behind foliage and a wire fence, launching the rockets, which in fact whiz past me like huge .22 caliber bullets. I see my brother, as if he were young, and I yell to him, yell loud and with anger, "Get my 16 and ammo, get my 16 and ammo." Instead of running to help me, he simply walks toward where my things are. I yell again, dodging and side stepping rockets, but he continues to plod along, and I am angry at him, because he is acting like this is a joke. He is either ignoring me or incapable of helping me, or more likely, both. I wake up fearful and angry.