Notes

Marice liked to nap.

She loved the dreams in her naps, more vivid than and interactive than any daydream. It wasn't ranked on her most proactive hobbies, but when the weather and thermostat alined just so to make her perfectly content, she liked nothing more than to take a quick nap.

After finishing schoolwork, it had been long accepted in her class that she would nap, a better pastime than overflowing her desk with origami of elephants, bears, and ferocious cats.

While, recently, it has been perfect napping weather, she hadn't been able to sleep that much, too concerned with memorizing vocabulary and history and math concepts. Instead of picking the perfect spot on the sofa, she would sit at the table with her book out and face too scrunched up to doze off.

Sometimes she could even see stray words floating around in her daydreams. Her mother, for her part, must've taken pity on her and tied a necklace - no, a talisman - over her bed. Marice appreciated the sentiment.

Yet, for some reason, when she did sleep, she felt as if something was missing.

When she woke up, it wasn't the quick snap of sleep then awake that happens when there's no dream or the feeling of lose for a forgotten dream just out of reach. No, it had the same long feeling as any dream-filled sleep would, but her consciousness still snapped to morning in a flash.

To conquer the mystery, she made a dream diary. Maybe the name "dream" was moot at this point, as she couldn't remember the last time she dreamt, so maybe a "sleep diary" would be more apt.

She would record the way she felt every morning, how many hours she slept and how energized she was. Which way she slept and what she did. Maybe, if she remembered it, how long it took for her to fall asleep.

It didn't help her dreams at all, but her quality of sleep had improved. Less achy bones or dark circles under her eyes, or maybe the brainpower to win a class spelling bee.

Of course, Marice didn't give up her desk naps. Even if her neck disagreed with her.

One time, she woke up in the middle of her sleep. Thinking it was morning, she got up from bed and went to write in her sleep diary. In front of her nightstand, was a strange creature. It looked a bit like a boar, if a boar had the trunk and tusks of an elephant and the paws of a tiger.

"I'm a Baku," it said. "I've sensed from your mom's talisman that you've been having nightmares, so I took the liberty of eating them up."

Looking at the necklace - no, talisman - she noticed that it did look a lot like the Baku.

"Ah," she replied unhelpfully.

As when she looked outside and saw it was still night, she forgone writing in her sleep diary, turned around, and went back to bed.

Come morning, the Baku was gone, and she had a faint recollection of complaining to her mom of seeing her homework in her dreams, but whether they were dreams or daydreams she couldn't remember.

She still continued to write in her sleep diary. As school ended and homework was done, her dreams gradually returned. But by then the diary became a habit, and to this day she continues to write in it.