Prompt ~A dream has power to poison sleep
Mr W Smith dreamt of Glory. He met her at public functions, malls and at the local pub frequently. Smith tried hard to charm her. He would recite his freshly written poems to her but she paid scant attention.
Occasionally she would tease him, ‘published anything yet, Mr Smith’. It always upset him. For the next few days he would avoid talking to her. She aggravated his depression by applauding the most disgusting poems or the worst of paintings. She really turned him off by performing a jiggle at a most absurd tune composed by a mental retard who was also a regular at the pub.
At last he succeeded in publishing one of his poems in a reputed magazine. His joy knew no bounds. The only person he wished to share it with was Ms Glory. He met her after a week at the pub. The week seemed like an eternity to him. He approached her as she entered the door and told her about his achievement. She said, ‘amazing’, and went on to find her friends. Poor Mr Smith!
A few days later he saw her offering a bouquet to a painter who had succeeded in selling a painting of some roses. Mr Smith was ablaze with envy.
He succeeded in publishing a few more pieces but Ms Glory never offered him a bouquet or any word of encouragement. Some more time passed and Mr Smith was recognized as an upcoming poet. It was now impossible for him to control his feelings and one day he asked Ms Glory for a date. The lady agreed and promised to meet him at the grave yard behind the old church, 89 years 3 months and 12 days from that day. ‘I will get you a bouquet of red roses and fulfill all your wishes’, she promised.