Selinium.

I have this reoccurring dream, one of my favorite dreams of which I always wake up happy and well rested from. And the dream always begin with me just coming through these pair of monumental wooden doors, they are quite decorative, like in old churches. But it turns out it’s a gigantic library, or maybe it’s a bookstore, I’m not sure. It’s huge, either way. (We’ll call it The Library.) - The Library usually looks like a huge church in these dreams, but, a circular one. It’s so big you can barely see when the roof’s starting to incline.

The roof is painted in a really light green colour, so light it’s almost white. Then as it gets closer to the actual walls it darkens until it’s almost black at the last inch closest to the floor. There are books covering all the walls, bookshelves around big tall pillars that are keeping the rounded roof from falling down and there are regular bookshelves placed around the rooms in a maze sort of way. The bookshelves have little padded nest-like holes in them. All in different shapes and sizes, not placed too close to each other, but so you can sit there and read, without the risk of being disturbed from one another.

And as I stand there in awe of this majestic room, I can feel the consciousnesses of all the people who have ever written a book. Because The Library, has got them all. I can feel everyone of them calling out to me, trying to get my attention, to convince me to read their book first.

- It’s not as scary as it sounds, it’s comforting. To know that all these people, of who some are still alive, but most of them are long gone, still have a place in this world. Their thoughts are alive, their words will never be forgotten, they will always have a place somewhere. It doesn’t matter who reads it. There is always someone who will understand, someone who will feel the same way someone else did, even if that person died fifty, or hundred years back, no matter what thoughts. And that person will not feel as alone as he did before, he will feel like someone gets him as well as he gets them. In a world so full of nothingness, there is an awful lot of meaning to everything we do, and there is always someone who cares.

And with all this inside my head, with all the knowledge of all the books ever written, blended with my own thoughts described above, one might think I should feel a weight on my shoulders, or a pressing feeling in my head. But it’s true that knowledge doesn't weigh anything, because I feel as light as a feather, I feel as if I could fly.

- And then I think I really might, so I start taking my clothes off as if I’m afraid that they’ll be too heavy. One garment after another until I’m completely bare. By now the weather has started to change from complete calm to a gentle storm. I walk to the nearest hallway-like space between all the shelves, I kiss a book that I’m suddenly holding, and I start running. I run as fast as I can, and I start to yield my knees a bit differently, like I’m running really close to the floor. I spread my arms high above my head, kick off with my feet and dart through the air like an arrow, and just when I start falling to the floor again I flap one hard time with my arms and they turn to wings.

It’s even more beautiful from above (if that’s possible) where you can see the lines from the shelves and the different sections, and how high they are. All the different colours. Some of the shelves just keeps growing higher and higher no matter how far I fly, no matter which direction I choose. There are always more books. I head for the floor near the fantasy-section and I land with a loud thump that echoes a few times, and my pretty, white fluffy wings disappear to give place for my regular arms again. I smile to myself, acknowledging that this is the first time I’ve been happy for a very long time, thinking that I must come here more often, that I must bring my family with me.

By now I have already forgot that I had wings which I flew with just a minute ago, I just want to read. The books that have been struggling to get my attention have finally succeeded, and I know what books to read first. My mind is like a computer and have now made a list of all the books I want to read, in which order and how long time I can spend on each book, of how long it will take for me to read all that I wish. I get a screen before my eyes with a number so big I can’t even read it out loud. “2,36618555e+17” - It’s apparently the number of days it’ll take for me to read each one of them,  but I really can’t know for sure, it’s different for everyone. But it’s a lot of different numbers and I don’t really know how long it would take. It’s a lot of lifetimes though, a lot more than my 70ish years of life. It feels too weird.

So I walk down to the colossal pair of doors, I feel the books slipping away from me but I don’t care, I need to get out, to hear my own thoughts and my thoughts alone. I sit down on the stairs and start to go through all that I’ve seen and all the knowledge I would like to know. As long as I’m in The Library I’ll have access to every piece of information ever written down, I can just think about what I want to know and I’ll hear the answer and have a book suggested to me. But it won’t stick until I actually hold the book, not until I read every last letter by my own eyes.

And I start crying, I’m weeping so hard because somehow I know I must choose between knowledge or my family. I know I can’t bring them here, and I know that if I go home right now I will never be  able to find my way back. I don’t even know how I got here in the first place. I just know that I could stay inside these walls and live forever, without fear of aging. To know all that I want to know. To always have new books to read. In The Library that gets thousands of new books each and every day.

- But I also know that I can’t live here all alone, without my family. Without them, who would I talk to about my new facts? Who would listen? Everyone in the library already knows everything I’m about to learn, they’ll have nothing to say that I won’t know. I’ll be completely alone with my own thoughts, with no one to save me from myself.

So I stand up and walk away, leaving all that I’ve ever wanted behind me. I walk for what seems to be just a couple of minutes, and I’m in front of my own door. I can’t remember which way I walked or how I got here, I’m just here. I tell them about my day and what I’ve been up to, they listen and tell me about theirs as well. And in that moment, when we’re sharing a simple conversation about our days, with a cat in each lap, I feel happier than I did in that library. Even with all the science I’ve ever could’ve dreamed of ever understanding, even though I’ll never be able to comprehend anything of it outside of The Library, I’m happy. I’m at peace.

That’s when I wake up, pleased to be here another day.

30 degrees at arrival, 8 o'clock in the evening.
It's always hotter in towns though, and we're in Athens right now, waiting to move on.
Niclas uppdaterar.. <--Niclas blog)