I dreamt I was the archangel Gabriel fighting two fallen (dark-winged, I remember using that as a derogatory term) angels with the archangel Michael at my side. I remember not having my trumpet (Gabriel the herald ya know) and knowing that it was a great loss and would've made the battle easier but was even more important to get it back from wherever it was. I remember we were fighting on a short grassy field with strange dips and swells in the landmass, there was some smaller bodies of really clear water (ponds, not quite lakes yet) and that the silver clouds were rolling through the pale blue sky fairly quickly, but everything had a very vauge (dare I say, unfinished?) quality to it. I remember we were fighting in the pretty standard roman-like gear; boiled leather armor, short swords, and Michael had a sheild. I remember stabbing my opponent a good inch into his forehead and he not more than flinching. I remember getting stabbed in the gut from behind and watching the reddened blade protrude from my stomach but as well as not really hurting (something I know is a dream quality) I remember thinking that it wasn't all that bad though ~I~ know as a mortal man a gut wound is not only lethal but a REALLY nasty way to die. I remember Michael did in a vauge way resemble the stereotypical figure of himself, long wavy black hair very boisterous in motion as well as voice (Even reminded me of Travolta's version slightly) and I remember catching a glimpse somehow of what Gabriel ("myself") looked like which was I think just what I would imagine him as, blondish long haired in a tail, scruffy beard, very bright eyes, VERY clear voice. All in all I'm pretty certain that the good angels prevailed but in all honesty don't remember enough now to say for certain. So, anyone can interpret THAT in a way that makes sense to me, and I'll give you a cookie.