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Rubbery tentacles wrap around BiBi’s arms and waist. Orange, vine-like limbs suction her face. What is this strange creature with a bulbous head and blank face? In her dreams, she’s drifted into the ocean again, and a slimy octopus has decided to toss her small body into the air.

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BiBi fights to find an exit from this dream, but where? Where is her bed, her small blue room, and her comfy chair? Again, he squeezes and tosses her high, but this time she is finally able to force open her eyes.

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She grabs her journal, markers, and colored pencils. Awakened from the nightmare, BiBi immediately begins drawing what she could remember—a huge octopus with tentacles stretching as far as her eyes could see. She doesn’t recall much else, but after she finishes her sketch of the sea monster, a strange warmth radiates from the page, and she isn’t afraid anymore. She falls back asleep until the next morning.

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When Gram gave her the journal, she smiled and said, "This isn’t just any sketchpad, Little Bean. It’s a place where your imagination can take flight, where your fears lose their power, and where dreams can become reality." She paused, her eyes twinkling. "There’s more to it than meets the eye, but you’ll discover that in time."

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BiBi was curious but didn’t think much of it. However, on the very first night, the journal had indeed come in handy. She was having trouble keeping her eyes shut. Her bedroom was making spooky noises that kept her awake. Objects that seemed harmless during the day looked menacing.

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That night, BiBi sat up on the edge of her bed, feet dangling. The moon cast its pale glow, throwing shadows across the floor.

 

"It's just a room, just my room. I'm not gonna let the dark win." She began drawing what she saw-- the coat rack, her favorite doll, and the shadows that seemed to come alive in her room at night. Before she could finish her drawing the lines on the page shifted and smoothed by themselves. The colored pencil shading and bold marker outlines became vivid and more intense. The drawing was autocorrecting itself like a filter on a cellphone. She felt hypnotized by the slow-moving drawing, sleepiness settled on her eyelids, and she thought maybe she was so sleepy that she was seeing things.

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At any rate, Gram was right, the journal worked like a charm. It was that night she decided to call it the Power Pad. Now, BiBi keeps it close, just in case.

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