Okay. Technically my dream was two nights ago, since I know you care. Anyway, do you remember when I wrote this post about what I’d do in the event of a house fire? No? Well you should go read it then. I had a dream about exactly that. My house was on fire. Only it wasn’t my house I live in now or one I’ve lived in before, it was one I didn’t recognize. But it was mine.
During this dream of mine everyone got out safely, except me. I don’t know what happened because the last thing I remember before waking up was my brother (or was it my dad?) berating me about what I was doing. I was grabbing as many of those heavy duty trash bags as I possibly could and I was throwing my books inside of them to save them from the fire. But I was crying while I was doing this. I have nothing against anyone who needs a good cry every now and then, but it just seemed odd to me. And I was telling them how they didn’t understand how much I needed my books. I don’t know what the heck is wrong with me. I don’t even hardly read! Oh well.
Have you ever had a bookish dream that left you scratching your head? Or am I the only crazy in the room?
On this day in 2014 I published Things we do Rather Than Write.
Photo Credit: IW Blogger
Yesterday this was the daily prompt on The Daily Post:
Your home is on fire. Grab five items (assume all people and animals are safe). What did you grab?
This is the first time I’ve ever done a writing prompt. But I read someone else’s response and decided I wanted to do this one.
So let me see. I can grab five things, right? Well I have my college diploma. I have my college class ring (still my single most expensive purchase). My laptop on which I type all of my blog posts. I have my cap and gown in my closet. Maybe that’s it?
But no. I wouldn’t grab any of those things. Not even my ring. Why? BECAUSE I MUST SAVE MY BOOKS! Seriously. I wrote in a post last year sometime that in this very situation I’d save my books. Let me refresh your memory as to how I’d do it. I have two shelves. Right around 180 books. A good number, but not too many. And there’s a window right in the middle of both of them. First, I’d break that window. Easy enough. Then I’d grab whatever trash bag I could find in the kitchen and just start throwing my books inside as fast as I possibly could. Yes, throwing. No time to be pretty about it. If it came time for me to have to get out of the house and all of my books weren’t saved yet, I’d start throwing them out the window without the bag. I’d rather have a dirty, wet book than no book.
What would you grab?