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A Dream of Armageddon
A Dream of Armageddon
A Dream of Armageddon
Ebook37 pages

A Dream of Armageddon

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In "A Dream of Armageddon," H.G. Wells weaves a prophetic vision of the future where love and war collide with catastrophic consequences. The protagonist recounts a recurring dream in which he is a high-ranking official who abandons his position and responsibilities for a passionate love affair. As their idyllic existence unfolds, the world outside moves inexorably toward a devastating global conflict. This tale masterfully juxtaposes personal happiness against the backdrop of societal collapse, exploring the intricate relationship between individual choices and the larger forces of history and destiny. Wells challenges the reader to consider the costs of personal fulfillment in the shadow of collective doom.
LanguageEnglish
Release dateFeb 22, 2017
ISBN9781787241916
Author

H. G. Wells

H. G. Wells (1866-1946) is best remembered for his science fiction novels, which are considered classics of the genre, including The Time Machine (1895), The Island of Doctor Moreau (1896), The Invisible Man (1897), and The War of the Worlds (1898). He was born in Bromley, Kent, and worked as a teacher, before studying biology under Thomas Huxley in London.

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  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    A Dream Of Armageddon by H. G. Wells is a very short novel. It all takes place on a train carriage, as one man tells another the strangely realistic dreams that he has been having. The dreams are so realistic, in fact, that he is able to describe accurately and vividly a place he has never been in real life, but only in the dream. The dream is of the future, of an Armageddon that he brings upon the world. Thought-provoking story.

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A Dream of Armageddon - H. G. Wells

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H. G. Wells

A Dream of Armageddon

Published by Fantastica

This Edition first published in 2017

Copyright © 2017 Fantastica

All Rights Reserved.

ISBN: 9781787241916

Contents

A DREAM OF ARMAGEDDON

A DREAM OF ARMAGEDDON

The man with the white face entered the carriage at Rugby. He moved slowly in spite of the urgency of his porter, and even while he was still on the platform I noted how ill he seemed. He dropped into the corner over against me with a sigh, made an incomplete attempt to arrange his travelling shawl, and became motionless, with his eyes staring vacantly. Presently he was moved by a sense of my observation, looked up at me, and put out a spiritless hand for his newspaper. Then he glanced again in my direction.

I feigned to read. I feared I had unwittingly embarrassed him, and in a moment I was surprised to find him speaking.

I beg your pardon? said I.

That book, he repeated, pointing a lean finger, is about dreams.

Obviously, I answered, for it was Fortnum Roscoe’s Dream

States, and the title was on the cover.

He hung silent for a space as if he sought words. Yes, he said at last, but they tell you nothing.

I did not catch his meaning for a second.

They don’t know, he added.

I looked a little more attentively at his face.

There are dreams, he said, and dreams.

That sort of proposition I never dispute.

I suppose— he hesitated. Do you ever dream? I mean vividly.

I dream very little, I answered. I doubt if I have three vivid dreams in a year.

Ah! he said, and seemed for a moment to collect his thoughts.

Your dreams don’t mix with your memories? he asked abruptly.

You don’t find yourself in doubt; did this happen or did it not?

Hardly ever. Except just for a momentary hesitation now and then. I suppose few people do.

Does he say—? He indicated the book.

Says it happens at times and gives the usual explanation about intensity of impression and the like to account for its not happening as a rule. I suppose you know something of these theories—

Very little—except that they are wrong.

His emaciated hand played with the strap of the window for a time. I prepared to resume reading, and that seemed to precipitate his next remark. He leant forward almost as though he would touch me.

Isn’t there something called consecutive dreaming—that goes on night after night?

I believe there is. There are cases given in most books on mental trouble.

Mental trouble! Yes. I daresay there are. It’s the right place for them. But what I mean— He looked at his bony knuckles. Is that sort of thing always dreaming? Is it dreaming? Or is it something else? Mightn’t it be something else?

I should have snubbed

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