When I was a child, I had a series of very high fevers. During several, I dreamt that two Confederate soldiers burst out of my closet on horseback, sabers raised, screaming, tearing across my bedroom. Odd, because at five, despite my father’s love of Gettysburg, I don’t know how I identified the soldier uniforms as Confederate. I’ve always felt very strong connections at the Gettysburg battlefields and remember that ferrous taste of fear in my mouth from those dreams.