The Scream of A Thousand Libraries Chapter 15: Chapter 15: A peculiar dreamer.

Read chapter 15 of The Scream of A Thousand Libraries by Susangja on NovelPedia.

POV: RENATA SILVEIRA. It was a typical February morning. And there I was, slowly sipping my coffee, sitting in bed, a book in my hands. The cover showed a man standing on the edge of a cliff, talking to a homeless person. Quite unusual… but intriguing. I calmly turned the pages, enjoying the cozy silence of my room. I was slightly excited about the read. The narrative was inconsistent, yet I was very interested in the premise, or rather, the chosen topic: dreams. All the sentences, despite being simple, held ideas I identified with, and which I felt connected well to the whole book. And there were words that seemed to be used especially for readers of my style. I like stories like that, ones that fit into the cracks of the soul. The theme of dreams has always been one of the most fascinating to me. My favorite works address it, and I've always interpreted the meaning of dreams as a mystery to be solved. ‘And I was Sherlock Holmes responsible for the case!’ Every dream was a mysterious case I was thrown into and had to solve. Like a good nosy child, I always dove into these mysteries to try and unravel them. Clearly, I had few successes, but the adventure was worth it! After all, dreams are ways to understand who we are and what we can become. Everything occurs as distortions of reality. Moldable, volatile. They can be good or bad. For me, they are reflections of human nature in its rawest form. A blank canvas: it can serve for ultra-realistic drawing techniques or for an excited child with colorful chalk. They are fragments of the unconscious, like echoes of stories that haven't been fully told. Every symbol, every seemingly random detail… can carry an important meaning. Just like books, dreams say a lot about us. They are broken mirrors of our identity. And perhaps that's why I enjoy studying the hidden layers of a narrative, a life, a thought so much. In many moments, I feel divided between reality and this other dimension where everything is freer, stranger, but also more honest. ‘Stopping to think, I'm even a bit too fixated on this theme… Why is that?’ Maybe out of fear of facing the rigid real world? Maybe out of hope of finding answers that waking life insists on hiding? Or perhaps, deep down, because this dreamlike universe allows me to be whoever I want to be, or at least explore versions of myself that would never dare to exist outside of my soul. Knock-knock. Knock-knock. "Mommm? What is it?" I asked, without getting out of bed. The door opened slightly, and I saw my mother with a startled expression that bothered me, but before I could say anything, she added… "Renata, it's about Helena! She had an accident, she's in the hospital!" That sentence paralyzed me for an instant. A chill ran down my spine. Her name echoed in my mind. Helena. My best friend and confidant. What on earth happened to her? Is she okay? Various questions popped into my mind at that moment, but I had to contain them for now. "Do you know what happened?" I asked, already getting up to get ready to leave. "Not exactly, Eduarda just called, and told me, apparently there was a gas explosion near where she was and she ended up getting hurt, she's hospitalized apparently." she replied, with a tone of concern. "Can I go visit her now, Mom?" I asked, quickly packing my bag. "Of course, daughter, that's exactly why I came to call you, go there to keep her company and tell Helena that everything will be fine." She comforted me. Helena and I had shared many years of friendship, so much so that our mothers had been friends for a long time too, so if one got sick, the other's mother would worry too. It was a really nice feeling to have that support. As soon as I finished packing my bag, I dressed as fast as I could. I left the house like a rocket, without thinking of anything else. My head was empty, except for disconnected images of what could have happened. Gas explosion? Where could she have been? Was she seriously hurt? ‘No, wait… If she can already rec