Nevermore

I was reading a poem, one of my own. I had called it “The Raven”, a fine creation if I say so myself. So fine, in fact, that it reminded me of my failure. I was depressed before I wrote “The Raven”, and I wrote it in an attempt to contain my pain in the poem and rid myself of the depression. It never worked, I still feel the pain. As I read it, I slowly, drifted to sleep. I found myself in a wheat field. I’d no Idea how I got there. I decided I would walk around a bit and possibly find out how I got there. As I walked around the wheatfield, I was startled by a flock of ravens as they flew up out of the field. However, one raven didn’t fly away, it flew to me and perched on my arm. “Who are you?” I asked the raven. It responded with not a word. “Would you like to come with me?”, it nodded it’s head. “Well, all right then,” I started off, and the Raven flew alongside. I was walking along, when I saw a little town. I thought I would go there and rest a bit, maybe find out what had led me to this place. I went to the town, and the townspeople weren’t friendly. They were so hostile that they grabbed pitchforks, guns, any weapon they had, and tried to kill me. I desperately searched for a weapon, and saw a small gun shop. I rushed to the shop, dodging pitchforks and machetes all the way. I quickly grabbed a shotgun, a revolver, and some bullets. I fired a shot at one of the townspeople, and the bullet hit him, and fell to the ground without leaving a mark. Just then, the Raven flew over to a lantern, and grabbed it. He held the lantern to the townspeople, and nodded it’s head. I fired again, and as soon as it hit the townsperson, he caught fire and was just ashes in five seconds flat. I did the same to the rest of the townspeople. I went back to the gun shop and took all the bullets for the revolver and the shotgun I could carry. Then I went around and got bottles and bottles of lantern oil. There was definitely something wrong, something that made the townspeople attack me, and obviously, light made the people vulnerable. I took the lantern and strapped it to my belt, after putting it out of course, and walked away from the town.

Take this kiss upon the brow!
And, in parting from you now,
Thus much let me avow —
You are not wrong, who deem
That my days have been a dream;
Yet if hope has flown away
In a night, or in a day,
In a vision, or in none,
Is it therefore the less gone? 
All that we see or seem
Is but a dream within a dream.
I stand amid the roar
Of a surf-tormented shore,
And I hold within my hand
Grains of the golden sand —
How few! yet how they creep
Through my fingers to the deep,
While I weep — while I weep!
O God! Can I not grasp
Them with a tighter clasp?
O God! can I not save
One from the pitiless wave?
Is all that we see or seem
But a dream within a dream?
-Edgar Allen Poe, Dream Within a Dream

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