This dream was weird in the fact that I witnessed it from 4 different POVs.

In the beginning I dreamed I was a young man, no more than 24, who was obsessed with these books. He lived in an apartment with grayish brown wood walls and floors. There was some unused and beaten up furniture scattered around like a sofa and a couple chairs, all colored a dark, dingy red. The main part of the main room of the apartment was a desk. It was made of slightly better looking wood than the walls and floors. It was huge and oddly shaped, sort of like a huge old organ, the kind you’d find in a Catholic church.

On one half of the desk were gray books with no writing on the cover or spine that mostly stayed closed. On the other side were books that were always open. The pages of the open books were a grayish maroon with about 9 or 12 large gray outlined boxes on each page. In each box was a number written in pencil.

The young man had some sort of obsession with these books. Liked to call them his “job”. He would open one of the gray covered books, read through it, slam it shut and write a number in an unused box in a random (or what seemed like random) opened book.

After I saw what he was doing I switched my POV to the young man’s landlord, a sweet old black woman. She knocked on the door of his apartment and seemed a bit worried. He answered it and I realized how horrible he looked. His black hair was in a shaggy mess, he was skinny and pale like he was sick, he had dreadful dark circles around his eyes and his clothes were dirty and wrinkled.

“What is it?” he asked.

“It’s been two weeks since you left your apartment,” she replied. “I don’t know what you do in there and honestly I don’t care, but honey you’re as skinny as a rail and you need to eat before you pass out.” Then she handed him a basket. “I made this all for you. And I want you to eat up.”

He thanked her and shut the door then put the entire basket in the refrigerator and went back to his books.

Another two weeks passed and he finally leaves his apartment. At this point I’m watching this all happen like I’m watching from a movie. The landlord sees him and tells him how relieved she is that he’s getting out. He shyly smiles and says goodbye and leaves. As he closes the door to the main hall my POV changes back to the old lady. She’s pulling out a key and is unlocking his door.

She’s greeted by the desk and all his books. She looks over the open books and can hardly make out each number. Then she looks in the closed books and can’t make any of it out because it’s not in English. It’s not even in any known human language.

She goes on and finds a purse from the 1950’s or earlier. “This must have been his mothers,” she says. Next to the purse is an antique vanity set brush. She opens up the purse and finds two combs and nothing else. With the purse and brush in her hands she sits down in one of the old chairs and says “The poor woman… And the poor boy… She didn’t have to die…”

By now she’s feeling such sadness and at the same time is falling asleep in the chair. She finally falls asleep and is awakened by a noise. She opens up her eyes and looks at the open bathroom door right next to the main door. In the bathroom is the young man. He’s looking at her while brushing his teeth. He says something but I can’t hear him, then the woman passes out.

I don’t know how much time passes but now I’m watching from the POV of a movie audience as the old woman is knocking on the door of the young man’s apartment. My POV changes again to a young woman as she answers the door. I can’t hear anything but somehow I know what’s being said.

“Can I see him?” the old woman asks.

The young woman lets her in and my POV goes back to a movie audience again. Now I can see the girl. She’s pale and has nicely brushed black hair in a bob cut with a little flower clip holding part of her hair up on the left side. She’s skinny, but not frightfully skinny and is wearing a white tank top, green short shorts and a gray hoodie, no socks or shoes.

The young man is sitting at his desk, messing with his books just like last time. He doesn’t even look up when the old woman (silently) talks.

“I know you’re not too happy that I was in your room,” she says. “But you’re the only tenant and I couldn’t get to a phone. I could barely crawl to that chair. If I hadn’t come in here I would have died elsewhere and no one would have known until someone finally smelled me rotting.”

The young man looked up, but didn’t look at her, and said, “I feel bad that I didn’t realize you were having a heart attack.”

They talk some more and it’s still silent but I can’t even understand what’s being said. Finally the old woman and young man hug each other right before the old woman leaves.

When she’s gone, the young man looks down at the young woman (the young woman is very short compared to him) and grabs her by the waist and pulls her close then kisses her.

Then the dream ends.