"Hey, stupid," someone whispered.
Uske reached out of bed and pressed the night light. A dim orange glow did not quite fill half the room.
"Now don't get panicky," continued the voice. "You're dreaming."
"Huh?" Uske leaned on one elbow, blinked, and scratched his head with his other hand.
A shadow approached him, then stopped, naked, faceless, transparent, half in and half out of the light. "See," came the voice. "A figment of your imagination."
"Oh, I remember you," Uske said.
"Fine," said the shadow. "Do you know what I've been doing since the last time you saw me?"
"I couldn't be less interested," Uske said, turning over and looking the other way.
"I've been trying to stop the war. Do you believe me?"
"Look, figment, it's three o'clock in the morning. I'll believe it, but what's it to you."