This morning I woke up from a horrid dream.

Somehow, Mikaela was on some sort of three-day vacation in Israel, which seemed to be a good idea at the time. As we spoke on the telephone I heard some sort of vague, crackling noise followed by wailing sirens and people screaming, crying frantically, running. I shouted for Mikaela but heard nothing; I quickly imagined her lying dead with piles of rubble over her dying body. I nearly freaked, but stayed somewhat awake as I knew I had to do something - but I was in Sweden. After shouting at the telephone for ages, I suddenly heard her voice, loud, clear and more stable than mine. A bomb had gone off and missiles were swarming the skies, leaving green traces on the retina, she said. I told her the obvious, she's got to get out of there. A determined Mikaela told me she'd ring me back in an instant, and the phone went dead.

I didn't know what to do! Panic. No, who'd that do good? Stay calm and shit - however that was supposed to happen. Fuck! I wanted to check the news, phone people and see what I could do to bring Mikaela out of that country as soon as possible. Then, Mikaela called, and was more distressed than just before. She said people were strewn around her, dead, wounded and screaming in pain. I then woke up and found Mikaela by my side, just as I was about to pick up a phone.

Fucking horrible shit at times, dreams.