This morning I woke up feeling absolutely terrible. I straight away decided that I would not be going to school, or doing anything work related for the rest of the day. But as I was sitting in my bed in all my illness, surrounded by tissues, medication, and my snuggly cat, I couldn’t get the dream I had earlier out of my head. And since my dream was book related I’ve decided to share it with you guys. I can’t believe my love of books has gone so far that it’s now actually breaching my subconscious in the form of dreams!
‘Dreams are illustrations from the book your soul is writing about you’ – Marsha Norman.
Ok here we go:
World War 3 had ended.
My country was in ruins; livelihoods were destroyed. There was panic, fear, and sadness everywhere. So the government stepped in. They put forward the idea of a Dystopian society, promising that with it, there would never be another war. They were smart. They picked their moment carefully. A moment when we were weakened, a moment where we wouldn’t fight back. We’d had enough of fighting.
We didn’t mind it at first. It meant we didn’t have to think too hard.
We just followed.
But slowly, things we loved began to disappear.
Internet sites were blocked, taken down, and censored. Paintings were destroyed because they showed ‘too much self-expression’. Films were discontinued.
They began destroying books.
And that’s when I decided to take a stand.
I came up with a plan. When they came for my books, I was ready.
* * *
I hear Police at our door. How did they know? Did they bug my room, did one of my friends talk.…..who knows?
I hear their steel toed boots rushing up the stairs. My parents shout in protest. They sound distressed and angered by the invasion of their privacy.
The police are at the top of the stairs now. They order me to open my door.
So they kick it down.
But they’re too late. I’ve just loaded the last crate of books onto the hot air balloon. I shimmy out of my window and clamber into the safety of the wicker basket. A huge tongue of fire materializes above my head and the balloon continues to rise. I smile at my friend who’s controlling the balloon. Without him this wouldn’t have been possible. The police stare at me horrified, but my parents who have just emerged in my room, smile up at me proudly.
Soon my house is left behind. We float over fields, rivers and houses, and when we are safe, and far enough away, we put my plan into action. We tie each book securely to a cluster of party balloons. We wait for the right moment, and then toss them over the side. We continue this systematically, and when we stop to pause, look down into a sea of bright colours.
Colours full of hope.
Floating balloons spiral steadily downwards, clutching their precious cargo.
I clasp my friend’s hand and smile. Tomorrow people will wake up and find books. Fantasy books, romances, science fiction, biographies, and classics. They’ll be able to feel the pages, to read about heroes and villains, they’ll dive into worlds of magic and mystery.
They will have literary freedom.
And what could be better than that?
* * *
So, after reading that your probably thinking that my brain is a very strange, strange, place. Granted in reality this little scenario wouldn’t work, the force of gravity would be against me and there’d be reports on the news everywhere of people dying due to extreme head injuries because books had fallen on their heads. But hey, it’s pretty cool in theory.
So, have any of you ever had wacky, or weird and wonderful dreams about books? And if so, was your dream as crazy as mine? I felt quite empowered afterwards, as if I really had saved books from extinction or something and the entire world had me and my booktastic brain to thank for it! Haha. And if not, what’s the weirdest dream you’ve ever had?