One of my quirks is that I can almost always remember my dreams. Not just one dream a night, but usually three to five distinct dreams. In the past fifteen years, there have only been a handful of mornings where I've woken up without remembering my dreams.
This morning, I awoke in the middle of a vivid dream. The dream had only just started, when the lovely GET TO WORK NOW sound of my alarm rang through my head, waking me. The dream stuck with me, because I had just been roused from eBook Heaven.
Yeah, I know what you're thinking. EBook Heaven? It sounds like an online bookstore, or perhaps a place eBooks go to die. In my dream, however, this place was neither. It was a vibrant, living place: a place where the souls of eBooks comminucated and thrived. A place for eBooks written as well as eBooks yet to be born.
This sounds like a joke, but I assure you, dear reader, this dream
did happen. One of my strongest reactions, after waking, was realizing that it had specifically been the Heaven of
eBooks. Not stories, or books in general, but eBooks. Why eBooks have a separate Heaven is a question for my subconscious. Perhaps the quickly approaching release date of the print version of
School of Deaths made me think harder about the eBook out now? Whatever the reason, in this dream I found myself journeying to eBook Heaven.
I don't remember how I got to eBook Heaven, but I remember the journey had been difficult. I stood there with a purpose, wanting to talk to a specific book. The alarm went off before I found out which book had called me there. Was it mine or someone else's? Perhaps a book not yet written. Whatever the reason for my presence, the image was startling clear.
I stood amid swirls of floating color, like the Northern Lights. There was no ground or familiar landscape anywhere. Before me, patterns of glowing white vertical lines floated, pulsing. With every pulse, a warmth entered my skin. I also remember smelling cookies or something else baked with a sweet scent. The air jingled with the constant gentle music of wind chimes. This, in my mind, was eBook Heaven.
I had only time to observe the surroundings, nothing else. When I remember a full dream, it might involve full days' worth, or many actions and events, but this was a newly-started dream, cut short by the alarm. This was an image: a powerful image that lingered in my subconscious. It was also a question: what is eBook Heaven?
I had a friend in college who claimed everything, whether it was a person, animal, or inanimate object has a soul. I don't necessarily believe that, but if stories are created from the soul of artists, is it possible that there is a Heaven where stories live? Perhaps even a separate Heaven for eBooks?