I had a dream a fortnight ago where I had been in the mountains and found myself in a world akin to that depicted in Lost Horizon, a veritable Shangri-La.
There was a firefight preceding that flight to that peaceful land, little of which I could recollect. I had remembered rolling plains and fields, surrounded by tall, snow-capped mountains thrusting into the sky.
There was a friendly Chinese farmer who had appeared to come from the same world that I had come from. He had been trapped here for years but he was happy here and showed me around the lost land.
I had then travelled afar to the boundaries of the lost land. The vestiges faded as I woke up.
I had another dream of time travel to a past, an alternate timeline a week later. The images had faded when I woke up and travelled to work.