And there are no battlefields.

Sometimes, when I close my eyes, I go to college and live in a dorm. The rooms are small with uncomfortable beds and are too hot in the winter and too cold in the summer. I wake up early for boring organic chemistry classes and study late into the night for my history exams. I eat food in the dining halls and laughingly compare it to road-kill with my blue-eyed roommate. I go out on weekends to drink and see struggling bands in small pubs. I stagger back to the dorms in the wee hours of the morning supported by equally drunk friends. We play frisbee on the football fields and come home covered in grass stains and dirt, exhausted but happy. I am surrounded by students, and we all gripe about homework and make fun of teachers.

And none of them are soldiers.

Sometimes, when I close my eyes, I live in a white house in the suburbs with my love, who shares my joys and sorrows. My love sleeps with me at night and pulls the covers off so I wake up cold at two a.m. I have an eclectic collection of furniture. On Saturdays I mow the lawn and on Sundays have barbecues. My neighbors lend me sugar and I bring them banana bread. My love and I lay out on the porch at night and watch the moon rise and the stars emerge. I have a cat that crawls on my books when I try to read and plays with my pen when I try to write. He coughs up hairballs that I step on wearing only socks. I have a black labrador that plays ball with me in the park and retrieves it every time. He cleans my plates and pushes his nose under my elbow when I try to type reports.

And none of the reports are for missions.

Sometimes, when I close my eyes, I have a job. A job in a small company where I go with my spouse over to the boss's house for dinner. I work my way up the corporate ladder and feel a sense of accomplishment when I finish a project. The people I work with are a close knit group, who laugh and gossip and fight together. We have office parties and my coworkers embarrass themselves by drinking too much and dancing on desks. There is an office softball team and we beat the other companies. A job where I go in at nine and leave at five and ride the subway both ways.

And nobody dies from my job.

But when I open my eyes, I see the battlefields. The country is torn and brown. The schools are a cover for a cynical teen who knows more about the making of history than the history teacher herself and who uses chemistry to make bombs. Who eats the food in the dining halls gratefully because otherwise he would be eating rations. The white house is gutted, the neighbors moved because of the threat of war. The dogs and cats are homeless and feral. The jobs are few, not welcoming those who have no past, no school diploma and most likely no future.

And I close my eyes again.

But then I look again and I see the best friend who sneaks out at night. My blue-eyed roommate who eats roadkill with me. My love, who shares my joys and sorrows. And who waits for me, making each camp, each safe-house, a home.

And suddenly I don't feel the need to close my eyes again.