just a little strange

i had a dream last night, and it was weird, but pretty. the visuals of the dream were in a style that makes me think of old carnivals and fairy tales, where it’s just a little sepia but there are still other colours...

and there were birds, three ravens, and a giant hawk caught a raven mid-air and began to devour it, and the other two ravens flew away not knowing. they were in some kind of midway or bazaar, and landed behind a tent-booth, and turned into brothers. but their third brother was missing, and so they walked around the booth and saw what fate had fallen him. i was there and not there, strangely first-person, witnessing as a ghost but still interacting at times. and the brothers wept over their lost kin, and i wept, too, as if i were one of them, and though i replayed the scene of the raven being caught and his chest torn open, i tried to console them with the thought that he died quickly, and did not even know what had happened. but this made them even more distraught, and they said “he didn’t even know he was dying; he didn’t even know,” and the scene of the capture and death repeated as they went on. and i felt sad, and not sad, fascinated and disgusted, present in their world and abstractly voyeuristic. but soon the sorrow built up too much, and i woke up to a sunny day and a pleasant autumnal world, the image of a bloodied raven faint in my eyes and a small hard pain lingering in my heart.