Haunted by war...

Last night, I dreamed I was a passenger on a streetcar when it collided with another train....Both cars were badly damaged and, as happens in dreams, I was suddenly one of the victims on the pavement, looking up into the shocked faces of concerned bystanders. And I knew I was dying.

Almost instantaneously, my focus shifted and I was an onlooker, staring down at my girlfriend and another passenger, horribly injured on the roadway. I knelt down beside them and held her and was trying to comfort her, ineffectually, because I knew it was hopeless.

I awoke, heart pounding, utterly shaken.

All morning, I’ve been haunted by the dream. In part, because I realize that many Iraqis are enduring real-life variations on such scenes --not due to an accident, but rather as the direct result of our government’s invasion of their country. Yesterday, I read a report of an American in a convoy that had been mistakenly taken out by a U.S. air strike. He described his Iraqi driver, whose legs had been blown off, bleeding to death in his arms along the roadside.

That story, I believe, engendered my nightmare. That, and photos like this and this...