differently than himself. Because he'd never
known anything else, he joined the army in
the fervor of the battle call, never really
thinking deeply on the issue. After a great
deal more time, he began seeing that maybe
he did agree with them a lot more than he
ever felt he could. Laughing with these men,
he found it odd that he would have killed
these very same individuals had he seen
them in battle.
Time for me to go, he came to find
me. "My life will never be the same
comrade," he said, "come with me, be with
me." "You don't understand," I said as I
began to disappear, "I am in your dreaming,
when you wake I will be gone." Reaching to
grab hold of me, he panicked, for he
suddenly realized he would wake again in
the South. What would he do? Would this
new understanding change anything?
Would he have the courage to stand for
what he'd been shown? He could die for the
truth, would he take that risk?
When he awoke, it was night.
Walking away from his camp, he began his
journey northward. Dying at the hands of
one who did not know his heart, a Yankee
soldier killed him, feeling that no
brent
(Brent)
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