Pario

The soft click of my laptop closing punctuated my thoughts. My work day had bled into a work night, and I was glad for it to be finished. I placed the computer on the coffee table, and started my nightly routine of checking the doors and turning off the lights on my way to an oblivious dreamland. My steps wove around the cats, who had rustled on my departure from the couch and started a rambling round of hide-and-seek. A brush of fur caught my leg as they ran by, and I flicked off the lights in the kitchen, grabbed the bundle of socks I had thrown down the hallway earlier, and double-checked the bathroom was already dark.

Only the bedroom was left, and I could see the dim glow of light luring me down the hall; I made my way there, pausing briefly for the furry wrestling match to let me through unscathed. An involuntary breath of contentment left my body as I crossed the threshold; I had worked hard to make this room a peaceful place, and the resulting atmosphere always reminded me to start turning off the lights in my mind, too. I moved to the closet, threw the bundled socks in the hamper, and buried them with the day’s clothes. One quick change into an oversized T-shirt, and the closet light flicked off.

I fell into bed. The black duvet and sheets swallowed me up in a dark sea, and I just managed to turn out the dim bedside lamp before becoming lost in them completely. The house was entirely dark now, and my attention turned inward. My surroundings provided a stark contrast for my thoughts, which bounced from reviewing the day, to wondering what I should wear tomorrow, to trying to remember how much gas I had in the car, to how good my sandwich was that afternoon, ad infinitum. At present, the inside of my mind was lit up like a Broadway marquee. I mentally answered the few important questions, and tried to bat the others away as they materialized.

It didn’t work, and an hour later the lights were still on. Dimmer, certainly, like maybe it was now a lower-rent, off-Broadway marquee, but a rousing chorus of “the show must go on!” prevailed nonetheless. I sighed, markedly less-contentedly this time, and considered my options. I could get up, maybe read for a while and distract myself? Or maybe some white noise would help me drift off to dreamland. In a worst case scenario, I could always write some of the wandering thoughts down. Wait - that was it! I could feel my eyes roll behind my eyelids at my own slowness. I hadn’t been to the Library in a while, but I had reserved a whole section exactly for moments like this.

A few deep breaths would help do the trick. Ultimately, it was four before I felt the soft, worn leather materialize against my back; I rubbed my thumb against the armrest and felt the smooth hardwood floor underneath my feet. My mind’s eye flicked open; it was exactly how I had left it. The warm-toned wooden shelves, the moody wallpaper, the black-trimmed window overlooking the coastline - the room was still here, as designed. I pushed myself up from the oversized leather chair. Was it CB2? I couldn’t quite remember the manufacturer, but I remembered clearly the first time I had seen this chair in real life, and brought it into this space later that day. It might have been $1500 in the store, but here I could have it with only a blink. Over to my right was the window, and I paused briefly to bask in the warm sunshine pouring through. I looked to my left, to the shallow rows of bookshelves; there were four aisles in total, but I could always add more as I needed them. For now, I had plenty of room.

I wandered into the first row, running my fingers along the spines I had left here through the years. A large, ornate volume stood out, and I pulled it down from its home. The spine creaked open and I smiled, remembering quickly: Art History 101, from undergrad. Here I had mentally stored some of my favorites from our required readings, and I flipped through the pages of oil paintings I loved. I returned this book to its place in the stack, and wandered aimlessly through the rest of the aisle. Books of pictured memories littered the shelves, and I occasionally opened a copy to smile at the contents.

In the second aisle, I walked past philosophy musings. This was one of my favorite subjects, and I kept all my wonderings about life locked away in these pages to be revisited later. I touched the spines labeled with things like “Free Will” and “Reality”, and wondered how I had managed to forget about this place I so frequently visited in the past. My eyes flicked over the notebook on the shelf entitled “Life”, and I laughed at the immediate answer as I turned into the third aisle.

Here we were, this is what I was looking for - blank notebooks. All the shapes and sizes I had envisioned over the years, waiting to be filled with thoughts that needed a home. I grabbed a floral printed hardcover, and flipped through the pages absentmindedly. Too big, I think. It returned to its place on the shelf, and a small, black notebook caught my eye. It had a thin, soft cover. I liked the feel of it in my hands. I made my choice, and returned to my chair by the window, notebook in tow. I opened to the first page and was greeted by the word Pario, that read much like a dedication. Though I didn’t remember it, I figured this was left from a previous thought-dumping session, and flipped to the next blank page. The notebook laid flat open on my lap, and I allowed my thoughts to flow. In a mental library pens are optional, and in only a few minutes my head was clear and the pages were full.

I was much more restful almost immediately, and I knew sleep was coming soon. Absentmindedly, I flipped back to the first page. Pario. I didn’t know what it meant, but I liked the look of the word. I let my thoughts wander, and a sketched drawing of a latte and a bagel appeared on the page. It looked delicious; I made a mental note to grab one in the morning, but it was a half-faded thought as I slipped into unconsciousness.

----

I had already been at work for an hour, and my day had started chaotically. My alarm had gone off, but too quietly, and I woke late. Pair that with the fact that I had no gas, a blinking thought on last night’s marquee, and I had arrived barely on time. It was at 9:15 am that I heard a knock on the door, and looked up to see one of my favorite coworkers. She swooped into my office with a smile, a latte, a bagel, and the morning gossip. “Happy Wednesday!” Her smiling lips touched her own coffee as she passed the second over to me. She plopped the bagel on my desk and dove into tales of coworker antics. I listened to her story as I took a bite, and smiled at the coincidence of the breakfast I didn’t have time to stop for myself.

---

I returned to the Library that night, warmed by the previous night’s peace. I spent a little time in the music section revisiting my favorite album covers before retreating to my chair with the little black notebook. Pario greeted me on the first page, but I was surprised to find that my previous night’s thoughts had vanished; the rest of the notebook was blank again. No worries, I had plenty of thoughts to refill it, and spent the next few minutes doing so. Once my mind was at peace again, I returned to the first page, and pictured the coincidental breakfast with my friend. I had really liked her blouse, and as I thought of it, an image of her blue silk wrap top appeared on the page. I mentally adjusted the sleeves to be half-length instead, and painted it black. Now I liked it even more; maybe I’d do a little shopping and see if I could find something similar. But that was a project for tomorrow. I closed the notebook, and drifted off to sleep.

---

My key clicked open the lock to the building’s front door the next evening. A productive day, but a busy one, and I was ready to hit the couch. As I walked up the stairs I noticed a package outside my door. A frequent scenario given how much I shop online, I grabbed the package and unlocked my door to hungry cats awaiting their dinner. After they’d been fed, I put on some pasta water for myself. Knowing a watched pot never boils, I retrieved the package from where I’d dropped it near the door in the meantime. No return address, so no guess which site this was from. As the half-sleeve, black silk wrap fell out into my hands, I knew I wouldn’t have been able to guess anyway. I hadn’t bought this - I had envisioned it. My mind anxiously flitted back and forth between the top, the book, and breakfast. Coincidence was one thing, but...back to back? I sat down, closed my eyes, and jumped to the Library.

Within seconds I was back in reality, searching online for the word pario, the only thing that remained in the again blank notebook. Latin, it looked like. A verb. “To bring forth, to create”. I froze. The pot boiled over.

That night I returned to the Library. I sat on the floor staring at the little black notebook. Certainly, this could not be true; I could not be creating things in reality that were drawn in this book in my mind - could I? How coincidental is coincidence? After a brief mental crisis, I decided the only way to know for sure was to test it, and to do it in a way that ruled out chance. I opened the page to Pario, and I mentally drew $20,000. There would be no way I’d be able to explain that away. I took my time envisioning the bills: they were clean and crisp, colored by denomination. They were so clear on this page I could nearly smell them.

I looked at them until I slept.

The morning sun crept through my eyelashes, and dreamily I blinked. It was a moment or two before I remembered the task at hand, and my eyes snapped wide open. I grabbed my phone, and opened my banking app. My heart was beating audibly as the balance loaded. It was the same as the day before … plus $20,000. I scrolled frantically through the transaction list for months with no obvious deposit, until I reached the date I opened the account with $400 - now $20,400.

---

Limitless. Infinite. These are words I have come to hold as dearly as my mysterious notebook; if I can envision it, I can create it. In the past months, I have created a life page by page that surpasses my wildest dreams. Each night, I return to the Library, and fill blank books with new memories and new happiness from days that keep getting better.

And then I dream a little more.