This is noting but a small oneshot in hopes of getting the inspiration needed to finish my other story 'Music Box', but I hope that you enjoy it non the less.

Disclaimer: I own neither -man nor this poem.

A Dream within a Dream.

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;


His life started the moment that he met Mana, there was no 'past', no 'before'. For there was no 'Allen', 'Allen' was Mana's creation. He always knew it.

He existed simply because his beloved foster parent, his Mana, wanted him to exist. That knowledge was what mostly held him together, trough thick and thin. It was because of his devotion in Mana's wish for him to live that he survive when his eye was stabbed, or when his heart was pierced. His love was his only joy.

But with the appearance of the musician ugly thoughts reared their heads. Was 'Allen' the one Mana wanted to save or was it 'the 14th'? Did he really exist in Mana eyes? Did he exist at all? The darker presence inside of him told him that he didn't. Since that day 10 years ago he was nothing more than a shadow, a fleeting dream doomed to disappear in the break of daylight. 'Allen' was already dead, and his shadow was only there to keep this body in working order for 'The 14th'.

Or so the traitor said.


Yet if hope has flown away

In a night, or in a day,

In a vision, or in non,

Is it therefore the less gone?

All that we see or seem

Is but a dream within a dream.

If the youngest Noah had came and asked for that body at an earlier time, -- after his first mission for the Order, or after witnessing the horrifying and pitiful form of the Fallen One—he would have it without as much as a complain.

But through the struggles and the pain, through having a place to call home, --slowly but surely-- 'Allen' became Allen. The loving—oppressing—shadow of his late father started to get thinner and after a long time he found himself again, --not the one that Mana crafted but his own—

So now he fought back, for the unnamed musician was as much of a shadow as him, as much of a dream. They would switch with one an other so frequent now that it was hard, even for them to say who did what at what time.

It was strange, through their 'war' there was no winner. They remained the same yet changed. The two merged in one existence no mater how hard each fought for individuality. Where one started and one ended unknown. There was no 'Allen', nor Allen, nor musician, nor '14th. There has only him.


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

Trough 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?


The poem above is 'Dream within a dream' by Edgar Allan Poe. If you could find the time to review this story telling me your opinion and providing contributing critic would be greatly appreciated.

Till next time! ^^