Panic, fear, anxiety. A common bunch of emotions, so why should a dream start out any different? There we were, our group of 5. Heading towards our destination, I realized that I was leading, I was in charge. I would have to take the full brute force of what we were about to engage.

We passed through a doorway, and, within a flash, it started. There I was, little old me, trading blows with a towering room filling monster. Yes, my group was with me but it was up to me to defend them. It was all up to me to keep them all alive as I stood there and took blow after blow. "Ahh!" I thought. The pressure alone was enough, but the fear of losing? The fear of letting my group down? The fear that not only would I meet my demise, but that once I had fallen, this horrible beast would simply stroll over to my comrades and knock em down 1 by one? What could I do? Could I do it? I had to do it. But was I?

And before I knew it, the encounter was over. I'd done my part for the group. I'd saved their butts and they saved mine. Though afraid and anxious, I held my ground and took it, for the good of the many.