A bell chimed. Its echo sent a shiver down my spine, snapping me out of whatever trance I’d been stuck in. I didn’t know how long I’d been gone, but when I looked around, I didn’t understand where I was–or why.

I was lying in a hammock strung between the branches of a tall, looming tree, its leaves bustling overhead. Everything felt familiar in the worst way. I was in a place I shouldn’t be–a place that I haven’t been in years.

I climbed off the warm, creaking hammock, and tall, shimmering, green grass brushed against my bare ankles. The scent of morning dew filled the air, sending me through a moment of nostalgia that turned into guilt and regret. Squinting against the bright sun, I stared at my childhood home. The sounds of birds chimed somewhere above, and a soft breeze rustled the leaves. Everything around me felt bright and alive–more alive than anything had in a long time.

I should have felt happy, but instead, dread settled deep in my chest.

Shaking my head, I stepped through the grass and onto the hot driveway, where a black truck and a white one sat side by side. The heat of the concrete burned the soles of my feet before I realized I was barefoot, so despite my fear, I ran toward the house, scrambling onto the shaded stone porch.

Confusion swirled inside me. I lived states away. I shouldn’t be here, and yet lying in that hammock had felt so natural, as if I’d been there all day for reasons I couldn’t comprehend. The trucks in the driveway made even less sense–they’d been sold years ago, and the house belonged to someone else now.

It was as if I had slipped into a memory–a time sealed in glass.

A muffled giggle came from inside the house. Then came the faint jingle of dog tags. I knocked impulsively on the familiar white door with the shiny golden handle. My voice came out hoarse as I said, “Hello?” I desperately needed water. My heart was pounding against my ribs, and beads of sweat slid down my forehead in the sweltering summer heat. There was no answer after a few minutes, so I knocked harder.

Instantly, the door disappeared without a sound. One second it was there, the next it was gone.

I carefully stepped inside the now-open laundry room, the cool air lifting around me and raising goosebumps on my skin. The scent of a familiar perfume filled my nose, tugging something deep inside my brain, and yet I couldn’t remember who it belonged to. It felt like anyone I tried to remember was too out of reach, as if I were trying to understand a stranger.

There was another giggle. I saw feet race past under the door across the room, one that would lead into the house’s main area–one where so many memories were built and eventually lost. With frustration taking control, I ran and whipped open the door, stepping inside what should have been a living room, but instead, was a little girl’s room. The room I came from disappeared, its door gone, leaving me with no option but to leave the bedroom.

It was dark except for a pink night light. The walls were pink too, princess toys littering the carpeted floor. A dresser had stickers covering it, and a nearby bed was made up of white sheets and blankets, as well as a pink frame. I’d been here before, but this time I had no knowledge of why.

A closet door creaked open. I quickly darted my eyes, staring at a little girl emerging from the dark area. Tears were streaming down her face, blonde hair frizzled. This was a girl I was very familiar with. Memories tried to flood my brain, but I couldn’t hold onto them.

It felt like she was mine.

“Who are you? Why…Why am I here?” I croaked, tears unknowingly filling my eyes.

“You said you’d come back,” she whispered. “Why weren’t you good enough?” Her voice broke. “Was I not good enough?”

I gasped softly, confused as my heart raced. “Listen, I don’t know who you are. What is happening?” Pleading, I stepped towards the girl, but she stepped back. Then I heard the beeps of a heart monitor begin to pick up, echoing in the room.

The girl stared blankly, eyes widened in horror. “Wake up. Please. You have to wake up.” She then ran towards me, arms outstretched. I opened my arms instinctively, but my entire body lurched backwards like I was being electrically shocked. I crashed through the bedroom wall just as I heard her fading voice say, “Don’t leave me!”

The heart monitor flatlined as I landed onto the wet, smooth surface of a completely black floor. Everything around me was a cascading darkness, and I couldn’t make out anything but a woman and three men in soldier uniforms. They were too far to hear, and yet when the woman spoke, I heard her perfectly. “You’ve left your daughter. Now you’re going to leave me, too?” Her voice and appearance felt so familiar.

I shook my head, shaking now as the flatline echoed in my brain. It felt like two hands were beating down on my chest. “I’m not leaving anybody! Who are you?” I cried out, tears running down my face. Then came a loud explosion, one that made my ears deafen for a moment. I stared at the two soldiers who were now on the floor, red pooling around their bodies, limbs gone. I shook my head rapidly now, making random mumbles as I watched my two childhood friends die in front of me.

That’s who they were, I realized: childhood friends.

The woman, not affected by the explosion, cried softly and stared at me. Then she and everything around me swirled into a grey fog, consuming me entirely, yet all I focused on was her fading image.

Just then, my eyes snapped open, and I was wide awake. Adrenaline rushed through me, my heart racing. I was in my dark bedroom, and I began to shout helplessly, confused and lost. “Stop! Stop! Get out of my head!” I cried out, trying to sit up, only to fall out of bed and land on the ground. I had no legs. Only bandaged stumps where they used to be.

Panic rushed through me. I could barely comprehend a thing. A lamp soon turned on, and around the bed rushed the same woman from the nightmare. At that moment, I recognized her: It was my wife. She knelt and wrapped her arms around me tight as I shook and cried into her shoulder.

“Hey, hey. Calm down. I’m here, and you’re home. You’re safe.” Her voice was gentle as she hugged me tight.

I wrapped my trembling arms around her, shaking as I buried my face into her shoulder and eventually fell asleep. Meanwhile, she slipped my military dog tags over my head and set them on the nightstand, careful to still their faint metallic chime–as if she could quiet the war itself.