Last night I dreamt of the Apocalypse. I was escaping an enemy attack on our position, running across country, dodging bullets whizzing through bushes and trees. I had only a few allies, one who buried the heart-shaped locket I had given him for safe-keeping in the mud at the base of a fence post. I found it, broken and irreparable, and it felt like my heart was broken, too. Well, my anam caras? Put on Joseph's coat of many colors and tell me what it means.