i crashed into sleep in the library with my mittens as a pillow on top of the green notebook that says 'eat more kale'. i dreamed that people were rushing past me, talking loudly and observing me asleep. i dreamed that hounds were loose in the library and with them was a sense of incredible speed and pure energy. i dreamed that i woke up and the filing system was off, and it was my fault. i dreamed that really, when reading, we are just writing stories to ourselves about what we imagine the author is writing. then the authors come over and get really mad, because they can see into our minds and know that we are making up the wrong story, that it isn't what they, as authors, meant really at all, that the kid in the bathroom wasn't really killing himself, he was just taking a break- a siesta.