Last Updated on December 29, 2017 by ellen

The Sea of Dreams spat me out with no memories, no idea of who I was or what my purpose might be. When Captain Bo, dream killer extraordinaire, arrived, I took a chance to explore. On the road of discovery, I tripped upon dreamplanes floating dead in a graveyard, scared children attempting to survive their dreams turned nightmare, strange guardians, rogue Dreamlanders, and ships with hearts of silver. I learned more about Dreamland than I ever thought possible. But people are dying. They’re disappearing. Dreamland is twisting, shifting, ripping. I don’t know how best to help, how to save those I’ve met, who have wormed their way into my heart. If only I knew who I was, what I’d been born to do. Then I found out. I know who I am. I wish I didn’t. Dream Killers is geared for fans of Once Upon a Time. The first season (Spring 2014) consists of 3 novellas called episodes. It follows River as he discovers who he is and his role in Dreamland. Dream Killers is to Dreamland Stories what Agents of Shield is to the Marvel movies. Dreamland is an intense, rich, fascinating world with lots going on. If you like fairy tales, are looking for something new,try this one.

Dream Killers by SM Blooding

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Meet the Author:

SM “Frankie” Blooding lives in Colorado with her pet rock, Rockie, and Jack the Bird. Jack has refused to let her to take up the piano again, but is warming to the guitar. It might help that Frankie has learned more than two strings. She’s added a few more Arabic words to her vocabulary, but don’t invite her into conversation yet—unless, of course, you’re willing to have a very . . . slow . . . conversation. She’s dated vampires, werewolves, sorcerers, weapons smugglers and US Government assassins. Yes. She has stories. She’s also an investigator with a local paranormal investigation group, Colorado Paranormal Rescue!

Excerpt

I opened my eyes. The sky darkened and then the light blipped out, as if we’d flown through the edge of a soapy bubble. All around us was complete black unlike anything I’d ever seen before. And stars. There were stars in the thousands, millions even. The dragon man made a sharp right. My breath caught in my chest. Stretching as far as I could see were towers—like a sprawling metropolis. Don’t think New York City, though. Think more like Coruscant. Technically, it’s an ecumenopolis, which would mean that Dreamland was a planet. So even that’s not a big enough concept.

Dreamland is a universe. A city that encompasses an entire universe. We flew closer, dipping and rising, dipping and rising. The tallest of the closest towers loomed as we approached and details became more apparent. Each level of each tower was a different dreamplane. Each one had their own dustman and, again, the names of those dustmen came to me like a whisper of love and acceptance. Dustman Anabell, Jeoff, Pascal.

The dragon man dove. I felt something in his heart shift. He called on Place, drawing the existence of the dreamplane through him and through me. I could hear each tree, each creature, each living thing that had been created for this dustman—Eshe. Her name was Dustman Eshe. With a flip of his tail, he flew into the dreamplane. Trees with white bark and downy feathers of every
color under the Dreamland rainbow raised their limbs and called out in greeting in varying pitches. The air vibrated with their voices. Creatures stopped, raising their heads to watch our passage.

The dreamers didn’t seem to notice. The kids in varying ages from toddler to teenager continued to run and yell and have fun. Wadji banked again, and Dustman Eshe came into view. She watched our progress like a reigning queen. She stood tall, her pale gown fluttering around her ankles in the breeze. Her long, black hair didn’t move. It simply shone. Another shore came into view and I heard the familiar call of the Sea of Dreams. With two powerful flaps of his mighty wings, we cleared the plane and that tower shrank in the distance.

I took in a deep breath and stared in wonder at the universe below and around me. I’d never imagined it could be this huge, this amazing. So many dustmen. So many dreamers. Wadji folded his wings and dove like an arrow. Towers and towers of dreamplanes rushed past us. I heard shouts of laughter and conversation. Dustmen’s names flew by so fast, I wasn’t able to catch them all. Closer and closer, we shot toward the bottom. We zoomed past the last level of planes with a pop. All around us were bubbles; large, grey, spiky blobs. They bobbed above, below, right, left, in front, behind. They appeared to be connected to nothing and yet . . . the part of me that sensed Place saw something—something iridescent and shining.

A scream pierced the air. I jerked. What was that? Wadji opened his wings with a crack and soared. The blobs moved out of his way, giving him freedom of flight in the extraordinary tight space.
I peered at one of the blobs and it opened, allowing me to see inside. A dreamer ran. His Who shot through me like an arrow. Ben. Age thirty-six. Three failed marriages. Four kids he never saw, but got to pay for. Two mortgages yanked from his pay check. A dog he didn’t like. Two dead plants on his window sill. A refrigerator filled with left over take-out. A boss who called him more than any friend or lover. Unwanted. Unneeded. Throwaway. Garbage.

He ran in a sea of darkness, shadows growing, morphing, changing, chasing. Terror filled him as he ran, passing toilet after toilet, each just as dingy and grungy as the previous one. Brown water spewed from them like fountains. My chest tightened as air lodged in my throat. I felt his fear. I felt his misery, his worthlessness. A darker shadow caught my attention. A man. Tall. Dark hair that gleamed blue in a light I couldn’t see. His eyes were pits of shadow.

Nightmare Keme.