I dreamed about a little boy on a farm. It had apple trees, berries, and dozens of chickens of every color. The little boy carried his slingshot as he walked to school every day and chased rabbits with his dog in the woods. He had a pet goose that followed him wherever he went. His grandpa told him funny stories and called him “Eddie.” Everyone gathered on Sundays for chicken dinners and listened to the radio talk about the Great War. It was a beautiful dream, and then I woke up and realized it wasn’t a dream. I was that little boy. I am Eddie.