I am in a snowy field. There is much chaos and confusion. Everything is blurred by thick swirling snow. Refugees are wearing thick clothing to keep warm. I am trying to find the Americans. I go to a woman I recognize. She is a reporter. She is calm. Panicked, I ask her, "Where are the Americans?" She points and says, "By the woman with the child." I run in the direction she has pointed to. There is no one. The same woman appears. She is sitting at a table. She gives me three letters. They are addressed to me and contain official or important documents. The letters have been opened-searched. I go back to the snowy field. A man and a woman lumber towards me. The man comes up close and suddenly points a long object at me. It appears to be a stick. I hesitate. He shoots. I fall and feel blood flooding my chest. I feel the life force going out of me. I experience the process of dying, which is very ordinary. I am not afraid. Just before death, I wake up.