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Of dreams and books and fairytales
How strange am I, if I say that my fondest wish is to get myself a library? It makes me pretty geeky right? Because, you know, it is. When I grow up (and gods that sounds so stupid as well) I want to have my own library. I mean, I like libraries. And bookstores. I like bookstores as well.
In elementary school, books where my ultimate hiding places. I was bullied and alone but when I read I was brave and unbeatable. Heh, if only I’d stood up to those girls like the characters of my books did. Seriously. I read the complete youth-section of the library by the time I was 10. When I got into first grade, and life changed, I used to dream about stepping into books. My fondest wish than was that I’d be able to step into books, be a participant. I discovered writing and my wish got fulfilled. I did step into the story than. When I wrote, I was Ginny, the most Mary Sue-ish character possible, but my getaway from life. I stepped into the world of Hogwarts and did amazing things. Later I stepped into other worlds too. Imagination truly is a wonderful thing. By the end of high school, when things started getting hectic, I’d go to this bookshop that was on my way home. They know me there, knew I didn’t have a whole lot of money and that if I did have some, I’d buy books. I’d sit in the very back of the stare, behind a table where they put items on sale, safely hidden. I’d take books of the shelves and paged trough them and read them. The store-people didn’t mind. Now I go to university and I hide away in the library there. It’s huge. Really huge. And they have a lot of old books. I specially like old books. Like how they smell, how they look. I sit on the ground on some scarcely used aisle and read my schoolbooks or write my own stories. With a laptop you can write where ever you want. It’s the reason I bought it. Two days ago, I sat in the polder, watching the sun set and wrote. It was quite wonderful.
And now all I’m left with is the wish for my own library. It doesn’t have to be big. A nice sized room, about the shape of my bedroom maybe – which is pretty big anyway really, but than again, it’s a dream right? One has to set some standards for herself… I want all the walls filled with book-closets and shelves. In there are books. Books of all different types and measures. Children’s books, picture-books even. I like those, like the art mostly, but also the cute stories. And books from writers like Roald Dahl, J. K. Rowling, Eoin Colfer, people like that. Oh, and Annie M. G. Smith. I love her work! There’d also be lots of fairy-tale books, in all shapes and sizes. There’d be big tomes, wonderfully illustrated. Books by famous writers but also wondrous tales that aren’t known for there are so many of them! There’d be fables and poems and all kinds of curious books. Oh course there’d be manga. I like manga a lot! And also non-fiction. Books on psychology of course, I’m starting to get quite the collection of those already, and on religions, and all kinds of curious themes. I like knowing things, learning things. Stupid facts for the most parts, but I still like to know them. My treasure though, would be the old books. So old that the pages have let loose at places, that the covers have faded and the pages turned yellow. And maybe, maybe there would also be some books of my own hand…
At times, when I bike to the station, a forty-five minute ride and perfect for making up stories, I don’t think of tales. Instead, I think of my library. How it’ll look, how it’ll feel, what would be in there. What kind of books. I imagine how the rest of the house would be, but the most detail, the most thought, I put in the library. It would be my sanctuary. There would be a comfortable couch there, and a table with a comfortable chair. A set to make tea so that when I’m in the middle of reading or writing something, I don’t have to go to the kitchen to have tea – got that for my birthday actually, and am really happy with it. It would look old. All wood and warm colors. Safe.
You see, I feel safe around books. Always have. Tales, fantasies, be they mine or other’s, have always been my getaway. Yes, my fondest wish is to some day have my own library. Quite silly, isn’t it?
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