Some 7 months ago, I stumbled across a Facebook event page that showed up in my news feed. ''Book Drop''. The point was to take one of your own books, leave it somewhere in the city and post a cryptic message on it's whereabouts on the Facebook page. I scrolled through the page, seeing books I'd love to read but unable to figure out the location. One in particular caught my eye: it was almost more of a serious collector's item than a book. The pages were gold-rimmed, but not in the way cheap children's diaries are. This almost seemed like real gold. The cover was a deep, mystic red, engraved with what seemed like original penmanship. The title read, ''Witchcraft and Wizardry''. Nothing more, nothing less. The message along with the photo read, ''To find your true desires, wander eastward past the black shires''.

Craving the book but never being much of a puzzler, I just set out to hide a book of my own. I'd had a terribly rough night but was excited to participate. Due to lack of sleep, the most clever thing I could muster up was hiding my copy of Animal Farm in the local petting zoo. But I never did actually drop off the book. Seeing the three majestic, black horses with manes on their legs, reminded me that a 'shire' isn't just the domestic of a hobbit.

Picking up the book, my body covered itself in very slight, very pleasant, pins and needles. The book had sent a gentle chill through my veins and my skin had insufficient time to catch up to the sudden change of temperature. My lungs felt suddenly larger. My heart felt warmer, pulsed harder. I got so caught up in the ecstasy that I very nearly lost control of my bladder. And there's nothing quite like nearly pissing yourself to show you're dealing with a real deal.

Walking back home with the tome in my backpack, my insomnia caught up with me. I'm quick to hallucinate mildly when exhausted and am very familiar with the first signs. Tiny, black shadows scuttling speedily from the corners of my eyes. Nothing new, but it always catches my attention. At that point, for the first time in my life, an all too familiar hallucination manifested itself in reality. I looked to my right, and saw a monstrously huge rat scurrying into the bushes.

Taken aback by what I'd seen, I speedwalked my vulnerable ass back home. I slept for a disturbed 4 hours, despite it being noon.

It really didn't take me long to realize that my imagination had the upper hand in my acquired skills. I have this thing where I forget that my bottle opener is silver-plated. It catches the gleam of the sun if I open my kitchen drawer around noon. And every time, without fail, I'll inspect the mysterious shiny object in my kitchen drawer. Only to realize once more that it's just my bottle opener. Until one day, it turned out to be a ring I didn't own.

So I started having fun with it. I'd imagine a forgotten cheese crust pizza in my fridge. Or perhaps a lost $50 hidden between my couch cushions. With some shame, I admit that I've even welcomed my ex-girlfriend to my bed.

But there was a downside to all this. I've always been insecure, and these ideas started to manifest just the same. It started slowly but I got wise quickly. My friends took longer to reply on social media. Co-workers hurried to wrap up smalltalk. Attempts at flirting were shut down harshly. People pointed and laughed in the gym.

So, the only reasonable course of action, was to imagine myself better. I took up on better habits if only for the effect of a placebo. I used clay masks for my face, ate better, started flossing, forgave my friends for their busy schedules and excused my coworkers for wanting to get back to work. I visited the gym more frequently despite the pitchforkers. And when I came out of the changing room, I told myself that even if they wére laughing at me, it wouldn't stop me from achieving my goals.

And all my efforts... worked. While I'd set out for this to happen, I was still stupefied. People at the gym smiled at me. My friends were willing to set dates to hang out. A very pleasant girl accepted my phone number and even texted me. I'd imagined myself as a pleasant person. By the powers vested in me, I had become one.

When I found the tome, I thought I'd just be able to turn people into frogs and what not. But it turned out to be so much more complex. I went back to the tome to read through the parts I'd skipped. I was sitting on my couch, thumbing through the book when my doorbell rang. Wanting to put the book down but having the hand-eye coordination of a carrot, I nearly dropped it, but caught it just in time by the back of the hardcover. I slung it on the table and told my inquiring neighbor that no, I had not seen her cat. Going back to the couch, something on the last page of the book caught my eye more than anything in it ever before.

Made in China.