I dreamt that my beloved and I were fighting with a small group of men. She was always by my side. Armed with axes of different sizes, they were pursuing us through a desolate region full of caves. We had only long wooden sticks, with which we were hitting them with all our might, but their axes were so sharp that our sticks would get shorter and shorter whenever we fought. I remember a big fight that took place in one of several interconnected caves. It was wide and tall, and it was open on two sides. Each of us came in from one of the sides. There were many other men in the cave, but they were rather passive. Most of them were lolling about, apparently resting after a long trek. The axmen mingled with them to confuse us. When our sticks missed our pursuers, they struck the other men, who complained ever more loudly. At some point my stick got so short that I started running out of the cave to find a longer one. One of the axmen was right behind me. Ducking behind a pillar, I yelled at the top of my voice to scare him away. The yell woke me up. It woke up my beloved, as well. “What’s wrong?” she whispered and reached for my arm with her warm hand. “Don’t worry,” I whispered back and started turning around, “just a dream.”