Liza's little soldier came home from the field. She carried a bunch of flowers to welcome and decorate him. It was a warm summer morning but his body felt colder. Four men in army uniform carried her son's coffin to where he would be buried, along with other fallen soldiers.

The gravesite was filled with the wails and tears of parents who had hoped and prayed for their sons to return home safely. They remembered when they had left to fight the war for their country. Some cried while some gave their final hugs. Liza was in both categories. Her son and many others had hoped to bring honor to their families. What they brought instead was sorrow and pain. They were like chicken with foxes. They couldn't avoid death once at the battle field but what did they know? They were brainwashed into thinking that they would become heroes and have better lives. 

Those fallen men had dreams of being important people in their society, to change the world. Now , they were corpse that would soon turn to dust. Their bodies clothed with their uniforms and their coffins decorated with national flags and ribbons.

As the soldiers were laid into their holes to rest, Liza began to wonder how different her son's life would have been.

He should have been an instrument player. But there was no money to buy instruments.

Or a politician. But he never had a proper education.

A father? But he didn't even make it to his twenties.

Perhaps in another life, he would fulfill all his desires. She hoped the same for others.

But now, they laid underground with unfulfilled dreams. It was true what people say. It was true, what people say: that a graveyard was the most fertile land, for it filled with wasted dreams.

Of army dreamers.