A horrible dream

On Saturday my Uncle Zach let me borrow the most precious thing he owned. An advanced, author signed, not for sale, copy of the final installment in my favorite series. A book that, when he first got it, he told me he would let me read if and only if I was sitting at his kitchen table with gloves on. To me these conditions were generous. I probably would have wrapped it in bubble wrap and locked it in a safe had it been mine.

This is why I was so shocked when he handed it to me Saturday afternoon smiling. "I am going to let you borrow this book because I trust you." He said. I laughed, knowing he was serious but hardly daring to believe it. "I don't trust me that much." I said, but as I said it my fingers curled around the smooth, thick, paper back cover, unwilling to part.

"Books are meant to be read." He insisted. Then proceeded to try and reassure me by pointing out a nearly invisible imprint he had made with his finger on the front cover. I thought back to all of my most beloved books and shivered. I looked regretfully down at the the book in my hands, knowing I aught to wait until it came out and I had my own copy. I took in the picture on the front cover, it was the kind of cover that stirred up a hundred questions.

This time I would be more careful.

I handled the book gingerly the rest of the day. Treating it as if it were precious Christmas tree ornament. The only time I wasn't nervous about it was when I was caught up within it. Of course it didn't help that every time one of my siblings or parents saw me with it they would get wide eyed and say something along the lines of. "He let YOU borrow it?" Or "He must not have liked it that much."

When I finally climbed into bed that night I was feeling rather proud of myself. I had made it through the whole day and the book was as right as rain. I placed it gently on my bedside table before settling in to sleep and, in this case, dream.

Who knew there were so many ways to destroy a book? I spent the entire night dreaming up violent ends for the it! It fell off cliffs, got acid spilled all over it and was taken by the honey covered fingers of my two year old sister. The dream ended with me showing the book to my uncle.

I leapt out of bed the next morning only to find it sitting calmly where I had left it. Sweeter relief there never was.

I considered giving it back to my uncle for a short moment before plunking down in a soft chair and starting where I had left off.