Description
The Book of Dreams was large and very thick. Lindsey cradled it in her hands and traced the golden interlacement on the green cover with all the pleasure of someone seeing the book for the first and last time.
No one could read their book twice, and she meant to make the most of her experience.
Wound into the design of the border and all around the glimmering words were her favorite things in the world, the ones she had dreamed about most often. There was the golden deer that had guided her through the forest in one of the few dreams she could remember, the eagle that had flown high above her glass castle, and many other things that she couldn’t remember seeing in her mind’s eye. Those must have been in the happy dreams she had forgotten and woken up wistful over.
That was what the Book of Dreams was for—to record those happy moments that would have been lost forever otherwise. Everyone had heard the rumors of this marvelous book, but only a few believed it existed or cared to find out.
Lindsey was one of the few.
