If reality lives in a cube riding on a rail (time) and dreams live in a cube on a rail right next to it, it stands to reason that an occasional function may be applied on one cube such that it’s content maps to the other.
I dreamt later tonight and saw some of you in the dream. I’m in the library I remember most fondly from my youth, in the Frankford section of Philly. I’m in the front and I heard you guys fussing over something so I went back and recognized you. After a little discussion we agreed to work together even though we didn’t all start out on this adventure together. [see also: Chance meetings in dreams (Hypatia) pp. 110-309, 402-417, Appx B. – annotated by Chaucer]
Apparently, there’s a book in here somewhere of some inordinate degree of power that is the target of some disreputable character. Our goal is to keep this book out of that person’s hands by any means possible. The book is not necessarily always available, but it’s insisted upon that it is physically present in this library. So, to secure the safety of whatever future we need to find the book and then hide it. (I seem to recall some argument about this part, especially because I remembered it the most after waking later)
Some parts I remember vaguely while others are more vivid. For example, I remember little of climbing up the bookshelf and going up through the ceiling to drop down in the restricted office space in order to let the rest of you in. It’s all a blur, like fragmented images. I remember more the mathematical discussion we had about how adding advanced string theory to simple algebra negated the need for derivative calculus and more than half the functions of quantum theory. You guys told me about my apparent ease of getting into the library’s restricted rooms which prompted wonder from all of us because I don’t think we were in the same library, at least not after the fact.
Anyway, once inside the locked room, we found the book in question and moved the shelf. Quickly: we made a hole in the wall behind the shelf to hide the book in. We patched up the wall from plaster found in the basement and the hole itself was accessible through removal of the whole shelf making us move all the books on it then putting them back carefully. The discussion and argument that accompanied this part of the project was what fulfilled most people’s anxiety quota in dreams.
It was a relief to get out of there finally, though not a great neighborhood in the middle of night. I think we all wondered how we could be as familiar with our surroundings, some more than others, but I was assuming it would all work out.
It would take almost six months to find out from a trusted source that the disreputable person from the dream was indeed thwarted, though it was a painting in Chartres and not a book that he was after.
Matt "Quiddity" McGovern's Blog 
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