I was somewhere on holiday with my family, somewhere vast. We drove along a narrow road which seemed to spiral downward around the inside of an enormous volcano crater. As we looked down we could see we were miles above the bottom, where we could just about make out a small village; in fact we were so high up that wisps of clouds obscured our vision in all directions. Below us we saw a large truck, much further down the same road we were on, and as we looked it plummeted off the road, fell for several miles and landed in a large graveyard in the village. Although we were miles above the ground, we could somehow see in great detail that the truck was in ruins, the driver dead, and a tomb had been cracked open by the impact. Out of this cracked stone sarcophogus lay sprawled a semi-decomposed corpse, and the smell of rotting flesh began to fill the air.

As we drove, the stench of death almost unbearable, we did nothing but laugh and joke about it until I awoke, feeling more than a little disturbed.