In just six lines, the speaker describes a dream that blurs the edge between sleeping and waking. He believes he is awake, yet he and the people around him are lying in their graves. That confusion is unsettling: if the dead can feel awake, then waking life and death start to look alike.
The second stanza turns to the body. He can't lift his heart because it's the heaviest thing he has. The heart feels like guilt or grief, something too weighted to carry, and it keeps him pinned down like a corpse. Then he looks at the gun and calls it "a dark little god." The phrase suggests that the weapon holds power over life and death, and that the speaker may both fear and half-worship it.
The mood is quiet, numb, and heavy. There's no shouting or action, only stillness and a haunted sense of being trapped. The title suggests the speaker is a sniper, so the poem reads like a glimpse into the conscience of someone who kills from a distance.