I visited my favourite bookshop while I was asleep last night. That sounds weird, right? Well, that’s because it is. But it’s literally the bookshop of my dreams—because I only go there when I’m sleeping. And last night wasn’t the first time I travelled to the magical place. It’s one of those recurring dreams, you know? The kind that, when you wake up from them, you feel an overwhelming sense of déjà vu. And it was doubly weird last night, because my subconscious dream-self knew the place wasn’t ‘real’, but I also knew I’d ‘been there’ before. Totally mind-bending, believe me.
Regardless of the whole ‘Twilight Zone’ feeling, whether I’m awake or asleep, I’m not the kind of girl to let a fabulous opportunity go to waste. So, what did I do? I shopped, of course! I spent ‘hours’ perusing the infinite collection of books in the beautiful, endless store. I read blurb after blurb and chose so many that I actually had to go and get a trolley-thing. And that’s because there were what seemed like entire galaxies of young adult books (happy place!), let alone all the other genres. Colours, shapes, sizes… You name it, it was there. In fact, it was almost as if every book that has ever been written and every book that is yet to be written was available for my purchase. (Yes, I did actually have to pay for said books… But I did also state that it was a magical bookshop, not a magical library.)
… But speaking of libraries… Funnily enough, my recurring dream bookshop looks an awful lot like the Klementinum library in Prague:
Pretty, huh? No wonder my subconscious mind likes visiting the place so much! Can you really blame me? And on a side-note, if anyone wants to shout me a trip to the Czech Republic so I can see this gorgeous library in person, I’d be more than happy to take you up on your generosity! ;-)
Okay, now that I’m done asking for free holidays (lol), here’s a little gem which perhaps explains why I keep dreaming about bookshops:
Time for honesty: does anyone else ever visit libraries or bookshops in their dreams? And, come to think of it, I’ve heard people say that we’re not supposed to be able to read in our dreams, but I definitely can, since I very acutely remember some of the dream-blurbs I read last night—none of which I’ve read in real life. Am I just weird, or can anyone else relate?