[ WP ] When born , the first gift we receive is a blank book which records our dreams . Although it is considered a violation to read another 's dreams , you open your young child 's dreambook , expecting to see nonsense . Instead you find a gorgeously written novel . You begin selling your child 's dreams .

He lifted the next page by the bottom corner, checking the room for what must have been the tenth time this minute. He had to make sure he was alone for this. It was n't just the paranoia, was it? No... they'd keep him in one of the Bright Cells downtown, where the dream criminals were kept, awake, until the prisoners were husks of their former selves. Nobody who Jonathan knew had come back from that place whole. He was just being careful. He fixed his eyes on the page and resumed reading. 
 
 `` We're all lost and alone on this rock. Faces smile, faces scowl, but underneath, they're all lost fools who stumble through sensations. I think I know a way. A way forward. But I ca n't show them how yet. My parents have kept me in this bed-with-bars to keep me where they can have an eye on me. Maybe they are n't ready yet, either. Some day, when my own two feet can carry me to the countrysides, over the mountain trails, and across the water, I'll show them what it's really like to live. I'll be mocked first, then called a crazy fool. My friends will turn their backs to me, and live in the suburbs until they grow old with their mortgages and kids. But they'll never see the world as anything other than a means to the same end that we've been repeating over and over since we walked out of Africa thousands of years ago. The thing is... they have n't figured out that we took a wrong turn...'' 
 
 His son stirred then, shifting the down blankets around his crib. Jonathan quickly shut the dream journal as the text stopped making its way down the page. He tucked it under the crib as quietly as he could, making sure that no one else in the house had woken up to use the bathroom or get a drink of water. Shit. Who the hell does my son think he is? In the darkness, Jonathan pictured his son morphing into John Lennon, and whispering up at him, `` I'm bigger than Jesus.'' He stifled a laugh, but it caught in his throat when the kid opened his hazel eyes. Well, at least he did n't see me reading his book. He smiled. 
 
 
 `` Hey, buddy... go back to sleep, okay? It's still night out.'' 
 
 His son smiled back at him, too. But what he said next scared Jonathan in a way he did n't know was possible. 
 
 `` Dr... Drea... Dream, Dada. Dream....on.''
