About Dreams and Daymares
Written by Willa Okati
141 pages / 59600 words
ISBN: 1-933389-49-4
Available file types - html, lit, pdf, prc
Do you like to explore the part of the world you can’t explain? Willa Okati does, and that’s exactly what this collection of stories delivers. Each tale is a well-crafted piece of the supernatural, of waking dream that you’re sure are reality.
From time travel to post apocalypse to lovers who may or may not exist, Willa sweeps the reader along in thirteen stories, surprising and delighting with completely new takes on some great old themes. Get ready for chills and thrills!
Review
Alexa Snow, author of Clear Cut, writes: If you like short stories -- and even if you think you don't! -- then Dreams and Daymares by Willa Okati is the anthology for you.
The stories in this book are fantastic, and the variety is astounding, especially considering they were all written by the same author. Each of these stories is completely individual, and they're all fascinating, from the first-time ''Against the Odds'' to the post-apocalyptic ''Devil in the Details.'' The characters in even the shortest of the stories are so compelling that the reader is drawn in within paragraphs, and every story ended leaving me wanting more (and would have no matter how long they were -- they're that good!)
The author's writing is, as always, a pleasure to read; the stories flow along, the settings rich and the characters real. You don't want to miss this one!
Sample
1. ''Dreams and Daymares''
Shakespeare's Sonnet #27
Weary with toil, I haste me to my bed,
The dear repose for limbs with travel tired;
But then begins a journey in my head...
Excerpt from the diary of Jacob Rushton:
I am no longer a young man, nor a useful member of society, and I need no reminding of that fact. As for what I have become -- a cold, corporate drone, devoid of any heart or soul -- it torments me every time I open my eyes.
I wake with the knowledge of ruination in my heart. The day passes by, taking far too long before I sleep again, tossing until I nod off, unhappy thoughts bitter as gall on my tongue.
I need -- I want -- I crave the impossible, as I lie alone on my bed. The only comfort I can find is in dreams.
And so I find myself falling deeper and deeper into fantasies, and even waking dreams of what can never be...
***
There is no alarm clock; they don't need them here. Time is a fluid thing, shaping itself to their desires.
Jacob's... and Owain's.
The windows and curtains have been opened for him the way Jacob likes them best, spilling a breeze heavy with salt and the sounds of the ocean into the bedroom. This is what he's always dreamed of, all the peace and privacy he could wish for. A place so perfect, it's like it was made just for them.
Night and sleepiness fade away in the wake of yellow-rose sunlight creeping in from the eastern exposure. It slips over Jacob's pillow, warming his face.
For a long moment he's happy just to lie there, curled on his side, one hand stretched out to caress the still warm dips and hollows in the mattress beside him. Owain always does wake up first.
Jacob imagines, pretending he feels a lingering tingle on his lips, he'd been kissed gently before Owain crawled out of bed, careful not to wake Jacob up.
Owain loves him that much.
Jacob's alarm shrills into the darkness -– strident and harsh, jerking him out of a stormy sleep. His eyes snap open and he hears himself gasping roughly.
More nightmares. Awful things, filled with the eternal grayness of meetings and committees with gimlet eyes that measure him up and decide he isn't good enough.
His bed is narrow, just big enough for one long, lean man. Even his own body warmth doesn't keep it from being cold and uninviting. Jacob slaps at the clock to shut it up, and gladly leaves the mattress behind him.
It's still dark outside, but it's already time to start another day.
His pet ferret, Pinch, a gift from a colleague –- a strange gesture of goodwill on her part (he refuses to believe it was because she felt sorry for him, all alone) -– skitters around his feet, chittering ~good morning~ and ~feed me now, please~.
Pinch allows a brief stroke of Jacob’s hand down his lean body before he bounds away, not interested when there are better things to play with.
Jacob’s body is rested, but his mind is still exhausted. Burned-out and burned up to a crisp. Jacob shuts his eyes and sways on his feet.
Just for a moment, he lets himself drift away...