The Bridge

I recall a vivid dream from my childhood in which I and my school friends were soldiers in the American Civil War. A brutally intesnse dream, in which we had charged with, bayonets fixed, to capture a stone bridge. Many months later, I woke with a start from another dream. Moments before, I had been an old man, surrounded by others like me. There had been a stong sadness in the dream, as I and my comrades retrned to visit the bridge we had fought so hard to capture those many years before.