Warm. Safe. The smell of new carpet, new drywall filtered into my sleep. It felt homey; but home was old and comfortable, saturated with the scent of decades of life permeating the walls. I relaxed in the warmth, content, for the moment, to lay utterly relaxed in this place, halfway between awake and asleep, where there were no demands on my body or soul. Slowly, I drifted fully awake. I stretched and yawned, then opened my eyes. There was no band. No stage. Just silence. Silence, and this warm quiet room in an unfamiliar place. What band? It was all a dream, right? But it felt so real, so right. I cradled my head in my hands, massaging the memories in my brain. I shook my head, rattled my thoughts, so maybe gravity could pull them back to their places. Two realities warred inside my brain; some forgotten reality and a vivid fantasy life. I pressed my fingers to the deep creases on my brow. Okay. I am Emari Sweet. Check. And there my list crumbled.
What do You think about Rock Star (Dream Weaver #2)?
