I was marching at the rear of a large group of men, apparently an army. The people marching right in front of me appeared to be slaves of the army, and not part of the army itself. The slaves seemed to be Moslem, perhaps Arabs. As we marched over the rugged terrain, the men in the army would sometimes drop things. The slaves in front of me were supposed to pick up anything that had been dropped so nothing would be left behind.
It was my duty to make sure that the slaves in front of me didn't overlook anything. If they did, it was possible that they would be left behind.
As we marched, a large stack of gray plastic objects toppled over. As the slaves began picking up the objects, I realized the objects were coffins. I could tell that many people thought they would end up being in those very coffins: our march was a dangerous one.
A quarter was lying amid some sand and gray rocks. I picked it up. Some wet clothes were lying to the side; I picked them up. A second quarter was lying on the ground. Thinking that the people in front of me should be more diligent in finding these things, I hollered to the person in front of me. He could be dismissed from service; if he were dismissed, there would be no hope for him in the area where we were.
I pointed out the quarter in my hand, the one on the ground and the clothing. One piece of clothing was a black tee shirt with elaborate designs; it belonged to me. I decided to immediately put that shirt on; but before I could do so, another man walked up with a smaller black tee shirt and offered to give it to me. He was offering it to me because the one I was going to put on was somewhat wet. I disdainfully told him to put his tee shirt on himself. I was trying to convey the message that he shouldn't interfere with anything I was doing.
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