It was the size of a child's story book. All the pages were blank. A book of dreams. You write down whatever you want to dream and eventually you'll dream it. Laurel looked at her sternly.
Dreams belong to everyone.
She paused, suddenly looking sad. I only have karma with an animal. It was quiet when Laurel left. The smell of lavender was everywhere. She lay back in bed, wondering if Laurel's bull dreamt in his meadow of flowers.