Odysseus has a dream sequence displaying what he might have learned from his experiences in the Land of the Dead. His physical form is sleeping on a beach, nearing the end of the Odyssey where he escapes Calypso’s island.

I woke up in my palace, peaceful rays of sunlight stretched across my room. I turned over to my side to see the absence of my wife. Stretching and getting up, I sensed the faint smell of wine and breakfast being prepared. I saw Penelope and Telemakhos chatting by the fire as I walked down the stairs to the courtyard. I smiled, pouring myself a glass of wine, joining in the conversation, and breathing in the spring air.

At some point I must have dozed off, feeling a breeze on my face and the drizzle of rain on my back. I opened my eyes slowly, looking up at large storm clouds hovering over my home. Turning back to my house, I went to my room and sat in my bed, Penelope was asleep already and I gently laid down next to her.

I wanted to say the flash of lightning woke me up from my slumber, but it was the smoke and building collapsing under me that jolted me awake. Jumping up, I looked to my side for the sight of my sweet Penelope, but she was already gone. I ran out of my room again, frantically looking around the courtyard and house to find signs of my family. Across the courtyard was where I saw them. Penelope and my beloved child Telemakhos, cradling each other in their arms, intense winds, rain, and fire surrounding their only ways of exit. Looking around for anything to save them, but it was already too late. My palace, the place I raised my child, the place I spent all those years with my wife, was crumbling beneath my feet and engulfing my loved ones. I was not there with my family when they died, I did not raise my child in this house, I did not spend years with my wife. I could not save them as their home crumbled around them and took their lives. I could not see them one final time before the building claimed them, for tears welled in my eyes as they were just a figment of my imagination. Ash filled my lungs and I ran outside of the palace, collapsing at the entrance and looking back at one final time of what my life could have been.

I woke up in a field, the sun shining on my face. Sitting up slowly I looked around. Hundreds of my men were sitting and crowded around me. Elpenor, Agamemnon, Akhilleus, and Ajax sat closest to me. They spoke in hushed conversations, every so often glancing around the field. As I sat up they turned and grinned at me. Agamemnon patted me hard on the back, letting out a soft wheeze, I asked where I was. Ajax explained they had found me by my home, and took me to the field to take care of me before we went to the next battle. I rubbed my eyes, still groggy from the rest I had.

“Battle? Against who?” I asked, confused.

“Are you joking? Against Ithaca of course! You’re the one who started the war!” Akhilleus howled, laughing.

I gasped, looking around again. “What happened? Why am I going against my home?”

Agamemnon chuckled, “Your family was going to betray you! We talked about it recently! How could you forget?”

My vision got fuzzy as I spun around in panic, looking at the field with hundreds of my men ready to attack my home and family.

“We must call the war off immediately! I did not want this to happen!” I yelled.

Elpenor looked at me hesitantly, “Sir, this is the last of our men, we already staged 4 different attacks before this.”

“The last of our men? Where are their bodies? How did they die? Stop this immediately!” I screamed. “Is my family okay? Are they safe?”

My men looked at each other then turned back to me.

“Sir, you killed them yourself,” Ajax murmured.

“No! This is not true!” I cried out, grasping at the grass beneath my hands.

“We didn’t want this either, Odysseus. You forced us to do this! How could you forget! You used your men for your own petty revenge, you refuse to respect us, and now you claim to not remember any of this?”

A searing pain stuck the back of my head, and my vision went blank. I could only assume one of my men struck me behind my back.

I woke up in a warm cabin, a fireplace crackling beside me. Cringing at the thought of fire, I sat up once more. At the corner of the cabin, my mother sat on a plush chair, humming.

“Am... Am I dead?” I whispered under my breath. My mother looked up, walking over to the bed I sat in. She placed a hand on my forehead and sighed.

“Dear, you have such a bad fever! You slept so long, are you feeling better?” She asked gently. Looking closer, my mother was young, around 30 years. I noticed my body felt smaller, and the pains of age did not haunt me any longer. I was a child again. With my loving mother. The past decades of anguish were just a mere fever dream. I breathed a sigh of relief and looked around the cabin. My childhood home, a place of safety and freedom. My father walked into the cabin, a rush of cold air entered and I shivered. Snuggling under the blankets I waved to him. Thunder shook the foundations of the cabin, and looking to the nearest window I noticed a storm approaching. There was a sense of fear bubbling up inside of me, but I could not understand where it was coming from. Then the lightning struck again, my ears rang and my whole body shook. Blacking out for a quick second, I regained consciousness to see the fire blazing around my bed. The warmth was paralyzing, and my parent’s bodies stood in front of the end of my bed, engulfed in flames.

“Why would you leave us, Odysseus.” Their voices stung in unison, echoing across the room. My body stretched and expanded, my form was the adult me once again. The fire grasped at my legs, its greedy hands stretching out to hurt me. I shuffled out of the covers, backing up against the wall. I was sweating, the intense heat getting to me and the smoke lining my lungs.

“Come back to us, Odysseus.” They howled again, my body paralyzed with fear. The ashy mess that was once my parent’s bodies floated around me. Soon the cabin was gone, I was placed in a void of fire. Their voices rang in my ears, repeating over and over. I was sobbing and curled into a fetal position, shaking so hard I could barely breathe.

Then it was over. Pitch black nothingness. No feeling, hearing, I could not smell the smoke anymore. The void was anything but calm though. My thoughts suffocated me. The betrayal, regret, pain, and anger I put my loved ones through. Out of the nothingness, I saw a light. Distant at first, flickering like a candle. Closer and closer it came, and soon I was faced with a man with burning eyes. It was Tiresias. He extended his hand, wrinkly, thin, and grey. Hesitant at first, but I took it nonetheless. Immediately I was transported back to the Land of the Dead, where we had first met. Yet there were no other shades there, it was quiet, comforting, and I felt finally safe in this nightmare.

“Why did you show me this?” I asked the prophet, my voice shaky. He dipped his head in sorrow, the flames dimming in his eyes.

“The only way you can succeed in your future is to reflect on your past. Without this, you will be doomed to repeat your mistakes.” He squeezed my hand and sat up, bowing once more as his form faded away.

Then I was alone, once again. I was destined to be alone, Tiresias told me it would be this way. Still, it hurts. I wish I could hug my mother once more, or spend time with my fellow men. Finally, after pondering my thoughts, I took a deep breath and opened my eyes. Awaking on the beach of a nearby island, my raft gently floats in the ocean beside me. Alone once more, but not for long. I will return home.