Iban Goicoechea is having a nightmare. He’s standing in the living room of his house, talking to a friend with whom he served in Afghanistan. The friend wants to take leave and visit some family elsewhere. Goicoechea is helping him with the request form. He glances down at the sheet of paper to verify that all the boxes are correctly filled in. He looks up at his friend. “Wait a minute,” Goicoechea says, suddenly remembering. “You’re dead.” Then he wakes up.
