The first night he went to bed stone cold sober he tossed and turned for what seemed like an eternity until he finally drifted off into a troubled slumber.
The dream hit him like a cannon - soldiers dressed in long white raincoats, hard round hats upon their heads, marching resolutely forward over graves of the fallen.
Stones upon each grave, mirrored the soldiers as they trudged on. Sorrowful faces as their ghostly and eerie reflections flickered as they passed by.
He stared down as the mirrored graves morphed into glass. Men. Comrades. Civilians. Staring back at him. Imprisoned beneath the earth. I’ve got a horrible feeling about this he thought as his dream shattered into pieces. Suddenly he found himself trapped beneath the glass. Soldiers walked above, staring down at him but not really seeing him. Taunting him. Leaving him as he had deserted them. Trapped for an eternity. His screams were lost amongst the sound of retreating footsteps. In his hand a bottle of rum appeared, it wasn’t the first time he’d found one of those in there. He raised it to his lips, the bittersweet liquor trickled down over his lips as he greedily drank himself into a sweet oblivion.