CIA- pov
09-July 2043
Dreams are manifestations of your unconscious mind. Some are lovely dreams, some are nightmares, and yet others are déjà vu. Dreams, according to half of the world, are what happen in your unconscious mind. ... half of the world believes these are scenes from several multiverses. But what if dreams simply repeat themselves?
In my fantasies, I see a magnificent, advanced, and classy library. The library's gate is as big as you think, built of wood, and has an impressive quote: "You are entering a different world of fantasy where only stories can live."
Opening the library's gate is always a dead quiet and most difficult task as if I'm the only one there. It rings, and a handsome man who seems to be in his mid-30s, with a height of 6'2, which is quite tall compared to me because I am 5'5, who has black hair like mine, tan skin, and dark brown eyes that are also the same color that I always want to ask is he my relative because so many face features are the same, except he always smiles. I always think he has the darkest aura, even more than I do because my family thinks I have the coldest attitude because I am an introvert, yet I always feel at ease with him. But how terrified am I of the library?
He is always seated at his desk, which is directly in front of the wooden gate. I always feel like I'm at the right place, but I can't bring myself to say anything. In every dream, I was nervous and he always greeted me kindly with "welcome," to which I always nodded.
There were several publications from various time zones on his desk. I don't understand how so many different times zone magazines can exist in a library like this, but I always ignore that because, when you see the never-ending bookshelf, their book covers are so attractive that anyone can love whoever say don't judge a book by its cover, I used to wake up anytime I took a book off the bookcase.
I touched every new genre after having a daily dream about that library, with the exception of one bookcase, and I have been having dreams about an elegant library for the last six months. it is really annoying. doing it every day at the same library, running into the same dude who is fucking attractive, and admiring books with stunning covers but being unable to read the books themselves.
I regret waking up once more. Today is going to be difficult since I have a math class, a physics test—which I despise the most—and I have to go to the library to teach my junior for his exams. I'm getting ready and having breakfast. He asked for my help, which I should give because this filthy asshole, "Arthur," is my father's closest friend's son. and my father requested me to do it, so I have to, which I dislike, but it's great since I only have one best friend, "Gia," to whom I can say something nice during my day's activities. I am an introvert and an isolated person, yet she is completely the opposite of me.
I'm having a difficult day after finishing today's activity, but the energy comes from a delicious meal with my family. I'm back in bed for the same dream, doing my entire fucking project. When I attempted to sleep, I constantly thought about who the person in my dream was, but whenever I told someone else, they told me it was because I am a nerd. That's why I get dreams about a library and a man throughout the dream. I desperately need a guy. So what if I needed a man? I'm not a shy person. If I have a feeling, I have it, and if I keep my attention on someone, he will have mine.
In my dream, I am once again in front of the library, but this time, I detect something different—what we would call the sixth sense. Although I hate dark romance novels the most because I oppose love shit because love always comes with a curse, I have made up my mind to visit the bottom shelf today nevertheless because I still want to attempt reading one book from such a lovely library.
When I entered the library through the front door, there was a stunning woman sitting at a desk. She was at least 5'6 or 5'7 tall, had dark brown eyes, brown-black hair, caramel skin, and eyes that are so densely black that anyone could float in them. She is also in her 30s. By looking at her, if I were a boy, I would definitely ask her out on a date. However, since I am straight, I couldn't.
When I was deep in thought, I heard her soothing voice from her lovely lips saying "Welcome dear," and I couldn't stop myself from replying, "You are too goddamn gorgeous."
I am not the type of person who compliments others, but I couldn't help but compliment her when she answered, "But you are more beautiful than I thought." She was thinking about me. "Why" don't I appear in my dreams? Is it true that when I hear her voice again, "Go and find a book yourself, or should I find one for you?" She inquired casually, to which I answered, "Can you please?" with discomfort because it was my first time requesting help from another person.
She went to the last part, the romance section, which was my exception, and today I considered going there, and she gave me a book off the bookshelf. It had a stunning and elegant cover that said, "Fall for me more love," in red writing, on a dark black background with a white border. And when I open the entire book, there is nothing written—not even a single word or dot. The book was indeed there when I stood up to inquire again, but I was in the dark. There was nobody there, and the area was completely black. There was no one there—no library, no books, no bookshelf, and no one is in the dark. I awaken from a nightmare and find myself in my bed. It's nothing but a nightmare. I need to clear my head. Let's get some water. I turned on the lamp as I approached the nightstand. This was also a dream in which I found that book. I massaged my eyes with my hands, but the book was still present. When I went to my bathroom to wash my face, I saw a mirror and saw myself; I was only half asleep, which is why I am still seeing that book. I walked up to my room after thoroughly washing my face.
I noticed the book in my nightmare. To be honest, I'm terrified, but when I touch it and examine it's real, or in my dream, when I touch it, it's real, just like when I saw in my dream the entire dark black background, white border, and red color book named "Fall for me More Love," and when I open the book, its clear white page has no ink, not even a dot. However, his and her names are written on the first page. Which person's name should I write mine and my lover's or someone I want? When I tried to write my name it didn't inscribe anything suddenly I hear a voice, it is the same soft voice I hear in the library, and it is clearly the lady's voice. "Alastair Erix is his name. Alastair Erix is his name. Alastair Erix is his name. Serenity Watson is her name. Serenity Watson is her name. . Serenity Watson is her name."
Why am I hearing these voices that I believe are so terrifying? I shouldn't even look at this book. I should go to bed. After numerous attempts at ignoring the book, I opened it again while seated at the study table and scribbled, "His name is Alastair Erix," and "Her name is Serenity Watson." When I changed the page, I noticed that it was written in the style of a love book as well as a diary entry. I witnessed the entire book alter in a few seconds, much like a novel with ink, dots, and an unlimited number of words.
Serenity Watson
February 2023-02
My father passed away today. I can't change the facts...….. (I switched pages once more.)
Serenity Watson
February 2023-09
I ran into an elderly blind man today...….(I altered several pages again when I noticed the name written.)
Alastair Erix
May 2023 09
Today, I'm coming home to greet some new visitors.................................…. (I altered several sites).
Alastair Erix
August 2023 14
Nothing can change the fact that I love her.........…..
How am I going to get through this book? I'm not going to read it, whether it's dangerous or not. I hate and love stuff. I'm not going to read the book, and I'm going to sleep again since it's 5:00 and I can sleep for another hour. When I tried to close the book, it reopened. I closed the book once again. Let's simply forget about this book. Let's go to bed. I made the decision not to read. It was the end.
When I considered the book on my study table, I discovered something new: why, in every genre, does romance have to come from the library? Please forget about the book. Let us reconsider, but who was Alastair Erix? "Alastair Erix, what a sassy name; the man must be so hot if I can see the man I want." Let's sleep, Cia, forget about the rest," I told myself. The book is so tempting that I should read it. It's so exquisite that I'll just read about Alastair Erix and it won't be harmful if I do. When I sat back down in the chair and opened the book, all I could say was "shit."