I was tired after a long day yesterday and sepsis fears must have been on my mind, but woke this morning from a deep dream. It must have been in around the 17th century and I was making a journey, where everyone was dressed in rags and the road was muddy and filthy, with a bedraggled army travelling the other way. For some reason I was hoping to not be recognised by them.

One soldier driving a heavily laden donkey (he was about 40 yrs old dressed in rags, no uniform) starting dying from fatigue and could feel his life ebbing away. He cut the ropes to the donkey to set it free and sat on a bench gradually dying. I could see all the things he thought were important in life leaving him as his life force gradually faded allowing him to finally ‘rest in peace’ and I was empathetically journeying with him.

It never ceases to amaze me how we ‘die’ to be replenished each night and spend a third of our lives in another world.