A few nights ago I had a profound dream. Today I’m haunted by its message.
Terror coursed through my veins as the dream sequence began. Hostile enemies had invaded my city, and I was busy gathering friends and family into a group to defend – or depart – depending on the outcome of the initial conflict.
I shouted from the Abrams tank I was driving: get out of your house! bring only what you need! we are under attack! People came out of their homes with whatever they could carry. Someone was passing out grenades, rifles, submachine guns, armored vests. Though I hate to admit it, there was a rush of adrenaline. Whatever was to come for us, terrifying as it might be, was also somehow exciting. After all, we had guns and tanks.
Eventually that sequence of events led us to direct, face-to-face conflict with our enemies. They looked different than us – perhaps they were Arab? – I couldn’t tell. I also noticed their faces held the same terror written on ours.
I shot my rifle into their midst, over and over, hoping desperately to get them to stop.
But the fighting ground on and on. Grenades flew in, exploding around us. I remember trying to lob one back at the enemy. The saying goes, war is hell.
This was hell indeed.
Continue reading “To End All Wars”
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