the stacks

She was having it again--that dream that she was trapped in the library. She was wandering that endless maze. The aisles seemed to get narrower as she went. She navigated the twists and turns, but to no avail. The shelves were pressing in, her chest was compressed.

She was certain the books would soon tumble down upon her. Bury her under leather, paper, glue, age.

She was startled by a rap on the table to her left. She looked up. Had she fallen asleep while studying again? Yes. And no. The aisles were narrow. This was a maze. She was irrevocably, continually lost. In the stacks.