The dream erupts and fast-forwards again. Eric sees a note roughly tied around a stone, amid scattered glass in the family’s living room. “Nazi go home,” it says in a primitive mountain scrawl.
The loud sound in his head of more smashing glass suddenly awakens him. Eric bolts upright, breathing heavily until finally his heart slows and he sits up on the side of the bed, motionless. It was a nightmare that was far more memory than dream, but that was not the worst of it. Every time he got a “personal and immediate” message from the Central Intelligence Agency in Langley, Virginia—it triggered the nightmare’s return.
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