So, I have this curse… I experience the memories of dead people while I sleep.
One second I’m dreading that midterm in the morning, and the next I’m attending a ball that could be the movie set of an Austen or Bronte novel.
Pretty cool right?
Did you catch that I call it a curse?
See, not everyone lives a life full of joy, true love, and happy endings. Sure, I get to re-live the good memories. But I also get to experience pain, heartbreaks, and sometimes even death.
For a long time, I had zero friends so when I dreamed of Victorian-era Lucy (who just got engaged… eek!) I had an escape. And then Lucy met her future cousin-in-law, Andrew. **swoon**
My life felt less… tragic when the Lucy dreams started. Oh! And I met this new boy, Duncan and finally had a friend. (He’s easy on the eyes too…**sigh**)
But one night I changed the outcome of one of my dreams by accident and shifted my reality in a major way, so now I have to make some important decisions about choices and control. And what I believe is right.
EXERPT FROM IN HER DREAMS:
Everything flashes purple. Then blinding white. And I know myself. It’s rare. I’m usually so immersed in the experience that I can’t really see myself or my surroundings. I start cataloging the facts. Through Nora’s eyes I see the limb, at least two feet in diameter. The far end of it has punctured the edge of the ice, sending spider-web cracks everywhere. The snow-saturated appendage still hangs sickly from the tree, attached by less than a sliver of wood. The branch will fall.
I gasp, and the minuscule movement causes more pain. Twitching my fingers locked in my hair, I feel the devastating injury. My heart lurches with panic. How is she still conscious? A steady flow of blood silently pools past my fingers, creating steam on the ice.
Nora is dying. I’ve died fifty-seven times, and it sucks. Every. Single. Time. I brace myself for number fifty-eight.