This dream was approximately July of 2006.
I am on a missionary trip with some of my friends. We pose as christians concerned with the immortal souls of the people in order to get a free vacation. Though we are building houses, so we don't exactly feel guilty about it.
Me and my friend G. go to find some mota in the village. It's a pretty little coastal fishing village, sort of a clean and wholesome shanty town. The people their don't think of themeselves as poor. They have what they need and more, and tourism provides them with all sorts of advantages over neighboring communities, such as access to hospitals and and dentist.
We meet a friendly local who takes to a soccer field sorrounded by jungle. Just on the edge of the field in the shade of banana trees we smoke. Everything is peaceful. Then soldiers are seen through the foliage riding into town. The missionaries are rounded up. Some of the locals as well.
Our new friend takes us to hide in a ziggurat. There are people already inside. We follow the tunnels deep into the cold silence of earth. That we are safe becomes certain.