You know that feeling you get when something isn’t quite right? I’m talking about that tingling sensation on the back of your neck followed by a full-body shiver that makes you hesitate. Yes? Well, I’m feeling it right now. Something is off and I’m shaking as my heart prepares to vibrate out of my chest. Whether it’s in excitement or dread, I’m not quite sure. But something is off. I know it. I’m certain of it. The thing is, it’s not necessarily in a bad sort of way. More like something is simply different and I can’t quite put my finger on what it exactly is. But it’s different so I’m shaking and I’m not sure what to do.

 

Scratch that. I know what I need to do. I have class followed by work and I really need to get a move on. I can’t stay in my room forever. I know this. But every single time I approach my door that uncomfortable sensation triples and my fingers twitch like they’ve just been electrocuted.

 

Maybe I’m feeling this way because I didn’t get a lot of sleep last night. I stayed up late writing another essay – a habit I need to break – and I guess all my rationality was spent on composing those words. Now, I’m completely spent and my mind is left with too much unchecked chaos that just loves playing tricks on me.

 

I shove the unease down. I push the mischief into the recesses of my mind hoping it’ll stay locked away long enough for me to get through the day with some form of sanity intact. I’m sure – no, I’m positive – that the walk to class will clear my head. That confidence – the delusion – of taking control of my day urges me forward. I move past my instincts of unease and grasp the doorknob. An electric shock disrupts my thoughts for a moment but then it’s gone like nothing happened. I grin thinking I’m in the clear.

 

I’m not.

 

Opening the door freezes me in place. There’s a hallway in front of me. One I’ve never seen before. It’s mainly dark with just enough light to illuminate two doors resting side-by-side. The doors are identical with polished wood and silver knobs. Normal doors. Expect they’re in a creepy hallway that shouldn’t exist!

 

Despite my better judgment, I peek into the hallway but the dim light only allows me to see the doors. Everywhere else is pitch dark. It’s like staring into the abyss. I see no end to this hallway, just nothingness surrounding these two doors. They must be important. Whatever is happening. Whatever this is. Those two doors hold the answer.

 

I pull myself back into my room and shut my door with a solid thunk. I don’t want to deal with this situation. Well. No. I’m lying. I’m really curious. I want to know how this hallway exists where it shouldn’t be. I want to know what’s behind those doors. I just know that things like this are always too good to be true. What’s the catch? Is it my sanity? I can’t help but think that this is probably a hallucination of an overworked, overstressed mind. But if it is… well, nowhere to go from here but up, right?

 

Hopefully it doesn’t matter. I’ve closed my room’s door and, consequently, removed the mysterious hallway. Out of sight, out of mind. I’ve given my mind a chance to correct itself. Now it’s time to see if it worked.

 

It didn’t.

 

Opening the door for a second time resulted in the same dark hallway with its doors making an appearance. At least we have something in common. We’re both stubborn.

 

Well. Fine. Let’s see what secrets you’re hiding.

 

Besides, I suppose I’ll come back to my senses when I’m ready. That or the magic will fade. So why not kill time exploring until then?

 

With a deep breath and a full body shake to fling off any lingering nerves, I take that great first step into the darkness. If it wasn’t for the timid lights over those doors, I’m sure I’d look like I was floating in nothingness. It certainly feels that way. I’m ungrounded, unanchored. Scarily free. As if possessed, my feet float over to the door on the left. I’m drawn to it because that same electrified feeling from earlier travels up my arm when I grasp the silver knob. I push the door open in anticipation, but uncertainty squeezes my eyes shut. Get a grip.

 

Crossing my fingers, I hope that there isn’t anything sinister lurking nearby. Nothing has attacked you yet. And with that mantra, I open my eyes and…

 

I almost can’t put into words what I see. In the simplest way that absolutely doesn’t do it any justice, I’d call it a library. But this library – it’s infinite. Towers of books stretch farther than the human eye can fathom. Like a meticulously planned city, everything is perfectly aligned and sorted. Nothing is out of place. Plush chairs meant for long-hours of lounging and reading and researching lay amongst the stacks. Tables adorned with lamps, notebooks, and an assortment of pens and pencils accompany the chairs. It smells of coffee and tea and that faint vanilla scent of a well-read book. And, if you look up, there’s no ceiling, just the dizzying view of books fading into the night sky. This sky is full of restless stars that – if you look hard enough – spin into words of thoughts that have been written down and thoughts left unsaid.

 

I twirl around the room laughing and take it all in. I could spend hours here getting lost among the books and the secrets they hold. This is where I would come to think. I’d sit in one of those chairs with a stack of books and a notebook and begin organizing my thoughts into something coherent, something orderly that is worthy of joining the timeless authors of these books.

 

As I walk around, I run my fingers across the spines of several books. I’ve read some of them before. Authors like Melville, Milton, and Mallory. Like Riordan and Rowling. I’ve written essays about them. I’ve written stories inspired by them. There are texts here where writers talk about other writers, where they argue and theorize and analyze. These books are so closely packed together, so perfectly sorted, so in tune with each other, it’s almost as if they’re all one very big book. Yet, it’s a book that hasn’t been finished yet cause there’s still blank paper on the desks. There’s still room in an infinite library.

 

I’m tempted right now to sit down and write an essay that fits somewhere amongst these books to complete the puzzle a teeny bit more.

 

But I don’t, not yet anyway. Instead, I pick up a book left resting on one of the study tables. It’s a collection of Arthurian Romances, a topic I’ve recently written an essay about. I open the book curious to see if it’ll be accurate like in the real-world but light erupts from the open pages. I go flying across the floor and slam into the bookshelves. Ow.

 

A clanging and loud shout startles me. Oh shi—

 

I roll out of the way. A freaking knight in sickeningly shining armor with a very sharp looking broadsword stabs at the air where I had just been. That was way too close.

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The knight yanks the sword out of the stack of books and turns towards me and charges. At the sight of this large, battle-ready knight, my heart starts beating uncontrollably as sweat gathers across my brow like I’ve just run a marathon. But I’m still on the ground and in no position to run so, naturally, I gracelessly crawl away. As I continue to (barely) dodge this knight, my eyes search frantically for a solution. I hysterically think that the book should’ve at least given me access to Excalibur. Wait. The book.

 

There! Across from me lies the book – still open and glowing. I need to close it. A flash of metal drags me back to the immediate danger and I once again roll away from this insane knight. He’s close this time and as he goes to swing the sword and eviscerate me, I kick him hard in the knee. He falls in a clang of haphazard limbs. And I lunge for the book and slam it shut. The light fades and when I glance behind me, the knight is gone.

 

Slumping to the floor, I just lay there as my heart slowly calms. I guess that knight didn’t like my essay critiquing Medieval chivalry. Must’ve hit a nerve.

 

Still that sure would have been nice to know. Thanks for the warning magic library!

 

So. The books come to life. Other than the risk of life-threatening characters coming through (there has got to be a way around that problem), this could sure come in handy. I mean, I wonder if I could talk to some famous people. Tea with Shakespeare anyone?

 

The possibilities for learning here are endless! And I’m tempted to open another (less risky) book, but I stop myself. I need to visit the second door. Maybe there’s something in there that can help me understand this room. I admit, leaving is hard. There’s order here amongst the chaos of words and knights popping out of books. A sense of belonging – everything has a place, a purpose. Everything has something to say, something to show. And even though it’s structured, it’s not confining. I wonder if I’d ever reach the top if I climbed the stacks. I wonder what else will appear out of an open book.

 

As I walk back to that door, I cast one last glance at this magical library thinking I’ll definitely be back.

 

Returning to the depressing hallway is disorienting. It’s too dim and bare and I kind of miss that sword-wielding maniac. I quickly cross to the second door – there’s no point in lingering long in such an empty place. This time my nerves are tingling, and my heart is beating fast in excitement. If the first door was awe-inspiring then this one must surely be…

 

Enchanting. Magical. Mind-bending. That’s what I’d call this world behind the second door. Like a storybook come to life, this place is saturated with magic. It’s my very own Wonderland. Grass shimmers between hues of green, blue, and purple. Flowers as tall as trees dance in a wind that sings its own melody. There are trees with leaves made of the finest crystal that chime as fairies flit between them. Nearby unicorns graze and above them pegasi fly. I laugh at the newness and wonder of it all.

 

I can’t help myself. I want to see more. It’s a compulsion – an obsession – to see everything this world has to offer. I want to know this world. I want to hold all its secrets – the good and the bad.

 

This world pulls me forward and I become charged with adrenaline the further I wander away from the door. As I wonder and wander, not once do I consider stopping. Not once do I think about losing the door or finding my way back.

 

And so I wander. I wander past a cove of crystal water where mermaids sunbathe and sing their siren songs upon the rocks. I wander past a group of elves playing hide and seek. I wander through a village where a girl tries to cheat Death in a card game and where witches sell potions that make people fly. And then I’m flying over the land where I dodge green-scaled dragons with wings that snap like thunder. I keep flying even as the dragons fade away into planes and the forests turn into cities where superheroes grapple with unhinged villains that don’t know how to – nor want to – stop their rampage.

 

I keep flying until the earth fades into dust and I’m hurtling through space and slipping between galaxies. I keep flying past planets engaged in battle where spaceships become exploding stars. I fly to land on new worlds with cultures I’ve never encountered before and learn about things that have no translation in the English language.

 

And as I find myself sitting in a council-room with the high-king of a planet embroiled in the middle of a war against creatures that feed on pure-energy, I wonder how I can help. I wonder if I can twist fate and tip the scales in their favor. I wonder if I’m as powerful as the Fates. And, as every face in the room turns to hear my opinion on the war-effort, I feel wholly unqualified and wholly eager to try.

 

At that moment, I take a gamble. I make up a prophecy of a group of heroes traveling on a quest to find a special object capable of rendering the enemy powerless. My words weave themselves into existence. The prophecy settles. The story unfolds. And I want to write it all down – every story, every mystery, every world that I observe and influence. Where to start? This place is always changing, always growing. There’s no end to the possibilities here. If it has been imagined, it exists.

 

As the world zooms by, as civilizations grow and crumple, I try to capture it all. But there’s too much blurring past my eyes and I groan with the need to find somewhere to think. I need to bring order to these images and stories. I can’t do it here. This place is for exploring and building and rebuilding worlds.

 

I squeeze my eyes shut. I stifle all the noise. This world is of my making so I imagine a door with a silver knob. I imagine opening it and slipping through. And when I open my eyes, I’m back in that dark hallway. The relief I feel unsettles me. I want to continue exploring that ever-changing world, but I don’t want to get lost in it. I wish I could sit – grounded and anchored – in that library and still interact with these worlds as they continue to unfold in front of me. Best of both worlds, right? But it seems that I have to leave – that I must continually trade one mindset for another. It’s not very efficient, is it? I feel exhausted and disoriented simply crossing between these doors.

 

But it doesn’t have to be this way, does it? These are my doors. I know that now. I fix my eyes upon those normal-looking deceptive doors and unmake them. A headache blooms across my eyes and the hallway begins to fall apart. The walls shake and groan. Dust falls into my face. I cough and stumble into the space between those two doors. Another jolt slams my head into the wall as darkness rushes towards me.

 

I wake.

 

The darkness has vanished along with my headache. The hallway has morphed revealing its location, its presence amongst so many other doors and other floors. One side of the hallway shows rows of doors – more than just the two I originally saw. On the other side lies a railing overlooking a vast space filled with more interconnecting hallways and more doors. Connecting each level are moving stairs that shift between each platform. They have a mind of their own. Like Harry Potter, I can’t help but think.

 

I wonder what’s behind all these doors. Memories? Hopes? Dreams? Nightmares?

 

Do I dare try to find out?

 

Yes.

 

As I prepare to explore with a curiosity that drugs me with euphoria, something stops me. An invisible force turns me back towards the space where those two doors originally were. That’s when I notice the walls littered with memories playing across them totally free from the confines of picture frames. I trace my finger across an image of 5-year-old me trudging into my Kindergarten class in a too-big Tinkerbell backpack. Gosh how things have changed. As mini-me fades into the wall, another image takes shape. It’s me (I must be famous here, ha) studying in my room half asleep. It fades and then I’m at the beach with my family, then graduating from high school, then taking my first steps on my college campus, then…

 

On and on the images shift and morph across time and space and it is mesmerizing to see my life play out. I am that girl in the memories and I’m simultaneously not her. Soon there just might be a memory of me staring at these memories or I might just take this moment and make it a story. We’ll see where it goes and where it doesn’t.

 

I break my eyes away from the memories. I’ve already lived them. There’s no sense in dwelling too long or they’ll run dry. I look, finally, at the doors. The two that I first saw are gone, or well, reformed is more like it. It’s larger than the other newer doors surrounding it. Riddled with carvings of mythical creatures, heroes, and galaxies all emerging out of an open book stacked upon more books, this door quietly hums when I trace the carvings before gently swinging open.

 

The library with its cozy chairs and unlimited book supply stretches out before me. But this time, the library is embedded in the enchanted world-shifting one. The wood planks that make up the library floor merge into multicolored grass which shifts into the concrete of cities or into the sleek floor of a spaceship depending on the world currently in charge. Yet, as these worlds are born and their stories unfold, the library stays still and constant.

 

The doors have merged. The boundaries of thought have blurred. Who says I can’t enjoy both at the same time? That I can’t be both? I certainly don’t and this place only confirms it.

 

I walk over and sit in one of the chairs. If I focus on the books and notebooks, the enchantment fades like background noise just waiting for me to focus on it once again. And if I want to, I know I could push myself away from the library and cross solely into the enchanted one. But that’s not all, if I concentrate hard enough, I can direct the unfolding story where I want it to go. I can speed it up. Slow it down. Change it. Like clay in my hands, I can shape it to my will.

 

This is my library. This is my world. This realization creates a thrill of mischief. That book with its crazy knight is still where I left it. Why don’t we give this knight a second chance? Let’s find out which is mightier: the pen or the sword.

 

When I open it, I’m ready this time so, as the book glows, I don’t fly across the room. Instead, I step back and wait. The knight appears in a flash of light and immediately charges me. Like the awesome Jedi I am, I will the knight to stop. He does and the sword freezes inches from my throat. Laughing, I turn the knight around and point him towards the world where I’ve conjured up a fancy castle. I tell him to practice his sword fighting prowess there. As my knight clambers towards the castle, I sit down in a plush chair and pull the book towards me. I wonder what else will pop out of the pages as I keep reading. Let’s find out.

 

But it seems I won’t be able to today. For as these thoughts pass through me everything slows down – the worlds spin to a crawl and start to fade. My body follows. I realize I’m waking up. And as my limbs disappear, I pray that I remember this. I hope that I can find m—

 

I wake – for real this time – with my head smooshed on a blank sheet of paper. I know I’m really awake this time because I would never dream of a world with such an annoying alarm clock. That and my mind feels like it’s emerging from the thick fog of sleep. I force the tiredness and sluggishness away with a full body stretch and an intense yawn. And then, with everything still thankfully clear in my mind, I pick up my pencil, smooth down the paper, and write.