I was in a small town, perhaps in Mexico, in which the townspeople had decided to revolt against the government. I wasn't really a part of the revolt, but I wanted to stay in the town with the people. Word arrived that the government was sending thousands of troops to put down the rebellion. As I stood in a park area, several jet fighters flew over the town. One swooped in low and at first I was afraid it was going to try to shoot me, but it flew on by without firing.

Suddenly some tanks rolled into town and groups of soldiers marched across the park. People were running in different directions. I knew a large group of the rebels was gathered in a large church where they intended to resist the soldiers. Obviously, however, resistance would be hopeless against so many soldiers, tanks and planes. I ran across the park in hopes that I could reach the church and convince the rebels to surrender. I was sure if they surrendered they wouldn't be dealt with harshly. As I ran, a young soldier grabbed one of my feet and pulled me to the ground. I didn't resist. As I lay on the ground, I just hoped the rebellion would be put down without anyone being killed.