A martyr's vision

The light streamed into the window illuminating the walls that were the same shade of blue as the sky outside. The halls of the school or the daycare, I couldn't tell which were, quiet. I could faintly hear the sound of children's voices and suddenly I found myself in a heated debate with Bobby. It was apparent from my "fore knowledge" that muslim extremists were coming soon, information we apparently knew about for days and we knew they were leaving a path of death and destruction to Christians in their path. The argument went that I was apparently ok with staying to meet our sure fate but now that they day was here I was having cold feet. I wanted to leave and hide with the boys but it was too late. I was scared. Bobby wanted us to stand firm in our faith and boldly proclaim that we were Christians. Finally he relented and started digging a hole in the court yard of the building, the thought was that the boys and I would be buried in there until they left. He started digging but we heard a loud noise in the building and we ran back to the hall where we had the argument. There were men everywhere. They were tall, they had t-shirts and army pants on and all of them carried automatic rifles, One man stood in front of us and shot me, as I fell I watched him turn and shoot Bobby. I saw his body vibrate with the impact of the bullet and it was a kill shot. He fell to the floor with a loud crack to his head. I waited, I remember thinking, this is it Lord, here I come. to be absent from the body is to be present with the Lord. I was calm, I was ok with it. but seconds later I realized I wasn't dead. Why I don't know but I wasn't. I propped myself up on my elbow, Suddenly the man was over me, he was screaming at me to denounce Christ. Mutely I refused. I thought he would shoot me again. That I would be dead for sure. I was almost excited. I couldn't be more wrong. My attention was diverted to another man, the first man said "Fine, then watch." . I watched as he picked Isaac up and slammed his head face first onto the tile floor. As he picked him up I could hear my son, my oldest, my little red head, my 7 year old, screaming, blood pouring from his nose and mouth. his eyes, wildly staring at me.... He screamed my name in voice so filled with fear and pain that I will never forget it.The man picked him up and did it again. over and over I watched my son get his head bashed in. And I knew in that moment I would do ANY THING to make the man stop. anything.
    
 It was with that, that I woke up. It seemed to real to be a dream, dreams are fuzzy, illogical and they blur when you wake up. this... this seemed more.
This was my "dream" last night.