Dream log of today:

The setting, though it was never literally made clear to me, must have been somewhere in central Europe during the later stages of World War II. Late enough for the tides to have turned against Germany, but not as late as to make their defeat appear as any kind of certainty. Late 1943, say, with the war still open, and me as the leader of a small, well-trained British/American team of commandos.
We had dropped somewhere deep into Nazi-occupied Europe, with the mission of rooting out and capturing and/or eliminating a group of high-ranking German officers, who had - since a slight possibility of defeat arose - banded together in a covert association with goals more aimed at personal gain than at serving the Reich.

After weeks of work, all the while operating behind enemy lines with access to little or no intelligence, we had successfully tracked our targets to a rather extensive, and ultimately secret, underground complex somewhere in the heart of Europe. The key to this effort was partly myself, but perhaps even more so, the only other member of my team to stand out with a personality: second-in-command, crisp and attentive lieutenant Noelia O.
This never seemed out of place. Noelia hated the Germans more than I did, fueled by a bitter, cold and tactical passion I could only assume stemmed from her mysterious past in Argentina. Murdered parents maybe. I meant to find out one of these days, but now was not the time.

Together we had devised a plan to enter and negotiate this Byzantine maze, at a time when, according to our surveillance, all the officers of the inner circle would be present and in meeting. It went like clockwork. We slipped in unnoticed, and were soon moving through the underground chambers with purpose. The meeting hall itself, which we quickly came upon, was a large hall with a high, domed ceiling, and several thick and decorated pillars supporting it.
In comfortable chairs strewn throughout the room, holding glasses of red wine or lipping cigars (the sine qua non of the boardroom plot), were the Germans. Our marks. We emerged from the shadows in a semi-circle, training our submachineguns (which, while less accurate than rifles were smaller and fired faster, and thus deemed more suitable for this type of indoor-mission) on them. The grey-clad officers stood, apparently taken completely by surprise. A single glass of wine fell and shattered against the floor.
Most of them gave up right there, a resigned look entering their eyes and their hands rising to their heads. A few of them however, went for their sidearms - their lugers, as it were - determined not to be taken in without a fight. As one, my team opened fire.

Now, this was not as cool as in a movie. Bodies danced like marionettes in the hail of bullets, blood splattered, and the noise those guns made seemed to explode inside my skull. I saw one German ripped to shreds in front of my barrel, and had a sudden impulse to close my eyes and fire at random. Then suddenly, it was over. A handful of remaining officers surrendered, dropping to the floor. I was back in control, and divided my team to secure the prisoners and search the area. This elite group of nazi-brass was up to something, and I meant to find out what it was.
Then, Noelia was beside me. I saw the gun hanging from her shoulder, still steaming from use. Clearly, she had not been holding back. Her hair was matted with blood, and she had a wild, excited look in her eyes.
     "You did well today," she said. "I'm glad to have you leading us."
She took my hand in hers, rather affectionately. It was unexpected, but, I must admit, not unpleasant.
     "If I did a good job," I replied, "it's all thanks to you. All of you."
Noelia smiled. I was going to ask what had happened to her, what had made her war so personal - but a German appeared, seemingly from out of nowehere, wanting to be heard.

The officer, speaking in the gentlemanly educated-English-with-German-accent style, introduced himself as Major Vagel, and insisted on being allowed to visit his office and gather some documents of utmost importance before being taken away. Why not.
     "Very well, Major," I said. "I will accompany you there. Lead the way."

Major Vagel led me through a series of corridors, into a modest office with a desk full of documents and maps. As he was rummaging around, I studied some of them, knowing all this would be confiscated or destroyed anyway. The maps were of central South America, describing some remote, hidden valley deep in the Andes.
     "So much treasure," Vagel said from the other side of the room in his mildly accented English. "Enough Incan gold to last us all our lifetimes. And we were so close."
     "Regardless of whether or not the Third Reich will hold together that long," I commented.
     "Yes, yes.. at this point, we must all look to forge our own fortunes. And we were so close. So close.. until you showed up."
     "Well. Sometimes you come out second best. Are you done?"
Vagel, clutching a heap of papers to his chest, stood up and indicated he was ready to leave.
     "Think about it," he continued as we turned toward the door leading out of his office. "Think of all the treasures buried out there. How could God have meant for them to remain undiscovered? How could God have intended so much wealth, squandered?"
     "God, if he exists, is fickle," I replied as Vagel walked ahead of me through the door. "Where is God in your concentration camps?"*
The Major turned and faced me, his mouth opening, but no sound coming out. He had no answer. Defeated, he stared at me, and slowly closed the door in my face.

Change-over: As Vagel shut the door, I realized I was no longer in his office in the underground nazi-complex, but back in my old boy-room in my parents' house. A poster from the Lord of the Rings, with Frodo, Sam, Merry and Pippin on the road out of the Shire, stared me in the face. It seemed to make sense, though. It was time to sleep, and I couldn't see why I would live anywhere else but there. Tired, I turned and faced the bed.
There seemed to be someone there already though. I had taken my glasses off, and the room was a bit blurry. I moved closer. It was Noelia. But.. she wasn't alone. She lay there, in my bed, lovingly entwined with none other than actor Michael Vartan, perhaps better known as Agent "Boyscout" Vaughn from the Alias tv series.
Such deceit! However, there didn't seem to be much to do about it.
     "I'll go sleep on the couch," I said. They looked at me, and two seconds passed.
And I woke up.

My eyes opened for an instant, and I glanced over at my alarm clock. It showed 15:54. I closed my eyes again and drifted into a semi-conscious state, going through the dream, trying to remember as many details as possible. It was too good to let slip away.