It was only a dream… A dream of light, color, laughter – of life itself. The golden curls and colorful dress of a little sister, the reassuring sweet smile of a mother and the firm grip of a father’s hand – all dissolved into an obscure memory.

Elusive pictures of beauty and sensations of happiness clashed with the raw jargon of men in filthy garments in a world of death. Faces covered in camouflage paint still resembled people, friends and schoolmates. Their teeth and eye whites glimmered in the dirt, as a reminder of a world that was sinking into chaos, a world where they were all still human.

But even that was a dream now, swallowed up by the damp darkness.

Far away the rumble of cannon fire could still be heard. The rumble that had shaken the ground under their feet as they headed out to glorious battle. Bravery, it was called, that imaginary halo that faded as the rumble grew closer. Fear took its place, like a cold mist, clouding the soul. It was a dream, this chaos. He’d wake up, he was sure. It couldn’t be real.

From muddy fields into dense forests, they had gone. Trees and stones overgrown with moss. Stumbling and slipping was suddenly the only problem in a brief blissful moment. Then the world shattered. In one blast the world was blown to pieces – just like the face of the guy next to him. The ground shook, and so did the bones in his body. Screams and whistling of bullets, flashes of fire and roaring diesel engines, blood and pieces of flesh and garments.

It was as if every blood vessel broke, and his heart stopped beating. Only his legs moved, rapidly, away from the fight. With every stride he anticipated a bullet in his back – from charging enemies, or from the friends he betrayed. Stumbling, falling, slipping, he felt no pain. He didn’t even know if he was breathing.

Suddenly, two stones seemed to grab his leg, pulling him down, swallowing him. It was the Cave that caught him. The damp, dark belly of the mountain. Some deserted prospect mine, forgotten and overgrown. Now it saved him. He imagined.

Trickling water kept him alive in the timeless darkness. Day and night merged into one, time lost its meaning. What was time anyway? One heartbeat preceding the next?

That was the dream. That there was actually a world out there that still mattered. That there were such things as colors – and words.

Hunger emerged from the confusion as something more concrete. He ignored it as long as possible, but in the end, he had to admit, that not all was a dream. Rumble came and went as the war went on above him. It told him one comforting truth. Not everyone was dead yet.

During one of the quieter periods, he dared to gaze through the vegetation covering the entrance of the cave. It was almost as dark outside as it was inside. It was night and it gave him a funny feeling – time still existed. The earth hadn’t stopped spinning. What century was he in?

Little by little, he squeezed through the opening, careful not to make a sound. Outside in the moist forest vegetation, he groped around for something that seemed edible. Roots and berries tasted good… Roots of a common weed, that had been thrown in the compost for hundred years, now blessed him with lifesaving sustenance. They forced their way down his throat, scratching and wiggling, and landed with a painful thud on the bottom of his empty stomach. It was surprisingly unpleasant, but he kept tearing roots from the ground, chewing, swallowing, filling the void inside, almost forgetting the danger that lurked nearby. Careless, perhaps, he became, as he enjoyed the fresh smells of the forest and the bitter roots he could dig out.

Just as he realized that a gray light began to creep up from the horizon, a terrifying blast shook the ground. It was distant, but too close. He scrambled back to his hole, desperately pushing the moss and the leaves in place, hoping that no one would see the traces of his tossing and digging and reveal his hiding place. He was a traitor; nothing could change that now. He had fled from his dying friends. No matter who found him now, he would be a dead man.

How could this have happened? Hadn’t he been properly prepared? Properly trained? Properly motivated?

As the rumble continued outside, he dozed off. dreams mixed with contemplation, time passed – or stood still – or didn’t exist at all. Still, he could discern a pattern – there was noise during the day, and silent during the night. More or less at least. And in the silence of the night, he would sometimes dare to crawl out to seek food.

Time passed and the noise went silence for some time. The continuous cycle of rumble and blasts had been broken. For how long was hard to say, they had moved further away in a direction that was difficult to determine. The front had moved, that was certain, but which way? Was he on enemy land now or had his brave, dying comrades prevailed? He couldn’t decide what he hoped for. The shame of seeing the ones he had betrayed was more than he could bear. And the penalty for deserters was possibly worse than the hardship of being a prisoner of war. Possibly.

Hunger drove him further and further out of the cave in the nights. The silence made him bold enough to scour the ground for mushrooms, leaves, roots or anything that could be chewed and swallowed. It had become his life, his reality. Everything else was a dream that became increasingly difficult to remember. Perhaps he just chose to forget.

Even when the rumble of war resumed, he kept creeping out. The noise was so distant now that he dared to believe that he was relatively safe. And as time passed in constant darkness, life also appeared to lose its great value.

One night he ventured farther then before on. Desperate from the stomachache, he pushed on. Every step was exhausting. His legs were so heavy, his head was so light. All of a sudden, he noticed something between the trees. Wild apples, small and sour, but oh how delicious! He stumbled towards the lovely branches and reached out his hand. Just as he touched the precious apples, his heart stopped. Only ten feet away was a creature sitting, observing him silently. It was a dark furry dog. Gray hairs around his nose gave his age away. His straight posture exuded strength and authority. His dark beady eyes pierced him and made his soul shrink. One bark from that dog and his fate could be sealed. Frozen as a statue he stared at the furry creature, preparing every nerve and muscle for a run for his life.

Suddenly the dog rose to his feet, turned and disappeared between the trees. Only darkness took its place. Not even a leaf moved. He took a deep, shivering breath of relief and fumbled his way back to the cave. Days, or maybe weeks passed before he dared to walk that direction again. But the apples were looming in his mind. He just had to taste them!

Just as before, he felt his way through the forest, step by step, towards the apple tree. He knew every twig and branch, but still it seemed so much farther away than before. Just as he started to despair, the brownish green fruits came into his view. He reached them and tore some off the branches. As he was chewing his first mouthful he glanced to his left, almost choking in chock! There was the dog again!

In total silence they watched each other.

Then, just as before, the dog rose and pawed away.

The man remained by the apple tree, chewing sour apples, numb and unable to think. Life had become more and more like a nightmare and for the first time he clearly considered death as an option. Why not just remain here by the apple tree, eating and waiting for someone to find him? Whoever did would doubtlessly end his suffering. What was the point in waiting?

He sank down, rested his head against the tree and closed his eyes. A thousand worlds had passed his mind when he woke up with a start. The dog was there again, a little closer, but just as still and silent. They looked at each other again, and the strangest notion appeared in the man’s mind.

“Walk with me”.

He rose, aching all over, and stretched out his stiff limbs. He took a step towards the dog, which rose like before and walked away between the trees, down a slope. In a haze he followed, strangely calm though he knew he could be walking to his death.

He hadn’t gone far when a little farmhouse came into view. It lay embedded in the landscape and looked as old as time itself. Besides a cozy little cabin, he could see a grey barn that obviously housed a few cows. In front of it there were a handful of hens that poked around in a neat little vegetable plantation. He soaked up the beauty of the scenery that was as heavenly as it was terrifying.

A pale light grew beyond the trees. It blinded him as his eyes had seen nothing but darkness for such a long time. He looked around for the dog but didn’t see him. Truth be told, he didn’t see much in the growing light. Just as he started to think that he was the only human left on earth, he realized that that he was standing face to face with an old man. His wrinkly face and white hair seemed to glow in the morning light. He smiled and gestured for him to come. Was he friend or enemy? Just as this question passed his mind, a loud blast could be heard in the distance. His knees buckled and he sank to the ground. The war, the shooting, the roaring diesel engines of the tanks just exploded in his mind. He imagined friends and foes alike, charging towards him to kill him.

The old man, though, did not move. Still smiling he bent down and touched his shoulder.

“Come”, he said.

He grabbed the young soldier’s arm and pulled him upright. On unsteady legs he walked towards the cabin. Unable to see the beauty of the place, he stumbled inside and sank down on the kitchen sofa.

The old man took out a jar of milk and a piece of bread from the cupboard and placed in front of the soldier. As he touched the bread, tears almost choked him. Just the sight of bread, and milk – and a smiling face – flooded his heart with emotions. Another blast could be heard as he stuffed bread into his mouth, eating like he had never eaten before. His hands shook from tension as he glanced around the room for clues as to where exactly he were. He stole a glance through the window, almost expecting to see soldiers marching out of the edge of the forest. He looked back at the old man, who was still sitting calmly on the other side of the table.

The young soldier gestured at the window and asked:

“War?”

Whereas the old man smiled even wider and shook his head.

“Construction”, he said. “The war was over months ago. A final battle on this mountain.”

This information blew his mind wide open. He had been hiding from the noise of construction work.

“But” he stammered, “who… who won?”

“Not you”, the old man still smiled at him, but his eyes were so deeply hidden in his wrinkly face that it was impossible to see what he was thinking.

As the young soldier contemplated this revelation, his eyes wandered around the room. On the mantle piece, there were two framed pictures. One of a woman and a child and one of the dog he had seen in the forest. He pointed at the picture and said:

“I saw your dog.”

The man turned and looked at the picture.

“No”, he replied briefly.

“Yes, I followed him from the mountain, he led me here”.

The old man shook his head.

“No, no”, he said, looking at the picture again. “He died ten years ago”.

“But… you have a dog?” The soldier asked in bewilderment.

“No, there is no dog here, no dog for miles”

The old man sat in silence for a while, then he rose from his chair.

“Time for milking”, he said. “Eat up, then come and help”.

As he received no reply, he turned and looked at the soldier. He could see the confusion and fear in the young man’s eyes. He had been fighting a war and ended up on the wrong side of the line.

The old man smiled again, a beautiful toothless smile, and said:

“War is over – there are no enemies now, only people”. He turned again, heading for the door, but stopped for a second. Glancing over his shoulder, he muttered:

“Maybe you saw angel – furry angel”. He chuckled a bit as he walked out and closed the door. In that moment, the sun rose above the trees and flooded the garden with golden, magic light. The nightmare was over, the dream was real.