The Book

I am a writer, maybe that is why my dreams are so stable and complete, like stories. This one was no different. I found myself in a house on the edge of a very old forest. The house was old as well, the wood was rotten, sections of it had collapsed, the furniture was decayed. It smelled of mold and old age. I walked from room to room with a strong feeling that I was trespassing and that I should not be there. The feeling drove me outside.

The light outside was soft and warm, like a perpetual sunset. The air was crisp, I could feel it, and it carried the smell of apples. I felt relieved to be out of the house and I hoped the owner would not notice signs of my presence when he got back.

At this point I woke up. It was the middle of the night, so I got back to sleep. I picked up in the same spot, outside the old house. There was a path in the woods, barely discernible. I found myself walking this path, noticing small details about the plants and stones and trees. I could smell the earth. I love dreams like that.

The path took me to a clearing. In the middle of the clearing there was an apple tree. It was like a fairy tale tree, so perfect and serene. There was something at its base. I head to get closer to see it.

It was an old book bound in leather. It was large, with a lot of pages. Someone had placed it on a small wooden pedestal among the roots of the apple tree. The pedestal was covered in black tar. Streaks of the tar had climbed the tree, as if corrupting it. I knew I had to remove the book to save the tree, but I knew I would pay for it. This thought seemed like it was not entirely mine. There was this human component to it, the part where I understood danger and suspected a price for removing it. But there was also a primal, pre-human aspect to it. A wild, instinctive tinge of fear and insanity. A selfishness. A wooden quality.

I picked up the book. It was bad to hold. I could feel it was making me sick.

I woke up.

It took me a while to get rid of the sick feeling, and it never went away completely. I tried to sleep more, but could not, so I just lay there until the morning light shone through my window. I got up and that is when I saw it. On my desk. The old book.

Posted by: Paweł Kowaluk