A Dream Within a Dream

All that we see or seem is but a dream within a dream.
This line from Edgar Allen Poe kept running through my mind. Why? I do not know. But the more that I think about it, I realize it must have been a warning. A warning of something that shall come.
That day I went through my routines as normal. Nothing seemed out of place. Nothing was different.
I should have known better.
At precisely 4:03 PM, I walked through my study doors. The room was supposed to be empty, but I knew someone was there. His scent, the smell of loss, filled up the room. It seemed to soak into the walls, the chairs, even the books.
“Hello Edward,” I greeted him. “What a terrible surprise it is to see you.”
“I assume you know why I am here, Lord Everon,” was his reply in his deep, umber voice.
Sighing, I looked at Edward. Oh how he had changed since he started his business. No more was the boy eager to please, but is a man no longer searching for happiness.
“I know I am probably right. But please, explain your presence.”
Edward glanced around. A hint of worry crept into his cold, gray eyes. It quickly disappeared though. His body was tense, as if ready to pounce at any moment. He got of the chair he was leaning against, walked over to the door and locked it. His lean frame was braced against the heavy wooden door.
“I, Lord Everon, have been hired to kill you.”
“Ah, of course,” I said more to myself. “This day was bound to happen.”
I go up and walked to my study window. The window is quite beautiful. Stained glass, high arches, and a window seat made for lounging. The view over looked the garden that was once an escape.
When I was younger, I used to play, read, just about anything on that window seat. Pirates were my favorite. I used to look out the window as if it was the world for my taking. Many other memories were made on that window seat. But that is all they are, memories.
So quiet were his footsteps, I did not know Edward was standing there. Not until he placed a glass of scotch in my hand.
“A toast for my last hour,” I murmured.
I lifted my glass in a half salute. Tipping back the glass, I downed it in one gulp. The welcomed burn blanked my mind. Even though it was only for a moment, it was still welcomed.
“I deserve this don’t I?” I asked Edward. He, of course, had no reply.
“All of these years, I thought I could just keep on doing what I was. No consequences. No guilt. But, nobody told me it was going to be this hard.”
I stared at Edward, waiting for him to say something. His cold gaze stared into my lost one. We stood like this for a while. Finally he sighed.
“Lord Everon, everything has consequences,” he told me. “Even the good deeds. Life is tough. We just have to learn how to deal.”
I nodded my head once. I knew he was right. He always seemed to be. But accepting it that time was hard. Something about “I told you so” always hurts.
Suddenly, I felt sick. So sick, my body started to shake. I collapsed onto the window seat I was thinking about only a moment before. Sweat dripped down my forehead. Nothing seemed to stay in my stomach. Everything was spinning. Why couldn’t anything stay still?
He poisoned me.
The thought came to me. I should have known, but I was still surprised. It really was the end. My world quickly started to turn black. Through the haze, I saw Edward stand up. The fog was getting thicker with each passing second. The fog didn’t hide from me the sight of Edward bowing. He left as silently as he must have entered. Then my world was total darkness…

I woke up in my bed. A cold sweat covered my body. Panting I sat up. My room was in complete and total darkness.
“It was only a dream,” I whispered to no one. “Yes, it was only a dream.”
A smell, unlike any other, swarmed my room. Dread. That’s what it was.
My eyes slowly adjusted to the bleakness of my room. Everything looked normal, or so it seemed. The wardrobe was right next to my full length, antique mirror. It has been in my family for decades. The love seat my father bought when he married my mother sat across from the matching recliners.
One of the recliners was different than the other. The one to left had a frame, somewhat like a man’s. That same chair radiated with the smell of dread.
“Edward,” was all I said.
“Hello, my lord,” was his reply. “The deed is done. Lord Everon is dead.”
Edward bowed to me. His footsteps were never heard. They never were.
I lay back down. My eyes stared up at the canopy. My body was numb. A line from a poem ran through my mind.
“All that we see or seem is but a dream within a dream.”