He wandered through the camp, his boots kicking up fine, powdery dust that choked him. Ugly wooden barracks stood at attention on either side of him. His gaze locked on the strange creatures peeking out of the open entrances—pale, haunted faces; bony skeletons with sagging, papery skin; bulging joints and reedy limbs.

And the eyes...the eyes were the worst part. They stared at him: dull, hopeless, desperate, terrified, accusing.

He wanted to look away. He tried to turn his head, to escape the terrible gazes that pierced him with crushing guilt.

Guilt? Why guilt? He didn’t do anything to cause this; he didn’t even recognize this place.

He finally tore his gaze away and looked forward. A brick building stood directly before him, smoke pouring out in clouds of ashy finality. The distinct stench of burning corpses filled his nostrils, and he looked back at the living skeletons.

They were gone.

——

Adam jerked awake, terribly human screams echoing in his mind. He rubbed his face and rolled over, the scene from his recurring dream replaying in his mind. It was tattooed on his memory, taunting him with its lingering aroma of deja vu.

The familiar guilt stabbed at him, but he brushed it away and sat up. Like he had done every night for the past two years since the dream had started, he turned on his phone and started to browse the news until he was sleepy again.

He clicked on an article announcing that it was Holocaust Remembrance Day. A photo of a concentration camp popped up. Chills raced down his body as he stared at the scene in his dream, immortalized in the photo.

He clicked on the next photo and was suddenly staring into his own face in black and white. The caption read, “Rudolf Hoss, commandant of Auschwitz concentration and extermination camp.”

The phone fell from his numb fingers and the blood drained from his face.

The guilt returned, a boulder that dropped on his chest and crushed all the light from his soul.

His dream was actually a memory.