They're a bookworm, they thought they had died. They awaken in a place that is rows upon rows of books further than the eye could see, almost more than a mind could possibly fathom. An eternity to read them all, with comforts, meals, and even washrooms. What is this wonderous world? -- Anon Guest
It was a wonderfully comfortable bed. Darlenydd didn't really want to wake up, but the looming cluster of recollection kept poking her towards consciousness. There had been some recent upsets. Bigger, meaner people. Rough demands. There had been pain, yes. And a bright light, and...
Now ze was here. In a cosy bedroom with everything ze could dream of. Even the cats. Darlenydd slowly extracted hirself, feeling no pain. The calico, the tux, and the mackeral tabby on hir bed mewled a little in protest. The tux woke up and plopped onto the floor, weaving between Darlenydd's ankles. Purring up a storm as it went.
There were shelves everywhere. Shelves full of books. Some favourites ze recognised, some ones ze had wanted to read since forever. Lots of others that, on initial inspection, seemed like titles ze might enjoy. This wasn't hir house. This was hir best dream of a house.
Outside hir initial room was a well-stocked kitchen with everything ze could ever want to use. And an abundant supply of food for the cats. Every room had catwalks and scratching posts and self-cleaning litterboxes somewhere a cat might like to hide and do their business.
Darlinydd found the food bowls and fed the cats. They swarmed on the sound of the first can opening. So... they had to be real cats. After the cats were satiated, Darlenydd made hirself a sandwich and plucked a book from a handy bookshelf. There really were bookshelves everywhere.
Ze had tripped across a snippet of information that insisted reading was impossible in dreams, and the book was perfectly legible. By that logic, this couldn't be a dream.
Except... ze had read in dreams before[1]. So that wasn't the test it purported to be. The book was about archeology on a re-discovered graveworld. The population had imploded against itself very early in its colonisation, and there was little left to tell the next colonists that they had been there. Until they started to dig.
It kept Darlenydd so fascinated that ze forgot about the passing hours. Hunger demanded hir attention and made her commit the heinous crime of dislodging the calico from hir lap.
So. Hunger invaded hir dreams too. This was at least confirmation that ze wasn't dead.
Outside contact might be a clue to the reality of hir situation. There were infonet ports, close to the very comfortable furniture. And in the kitchen. And by the bed in the bedroom. Darlenydd tapped through the basic infosites and found out where ze was.
You are in recovery dream suite. Please enjoy the facilities. Our psychotailors have done their best to make you comfortable while the rest of you is under repair.
Ah. B'Nari. That explained everything.
Ze typed, How bad is it, doc? Will I ever play the piano again? and added a winking emote to make sure hir attendants knew ze was joking.
The reply was, We regret to inform you that divulging that information may be detrimental to your continuing mental health.
Oh dear. Well. If anyone was going to get hir in full health, it was the B'Nari. They were so good at this stuff that failure was barely an option.
In the meantime, there was a form of continuity and access to everything that Darlenydd could ever want to read. And cats.
Ze decided to sit back and enjoy hir intensive care situation.
[1] Same as this author. So don't believe everything that dramas tell you.
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