“His dad’s eyes were getting darker. “How bad is it really?” Very bad. Too many fronts to fight. Bur for starters… “That big storm out east?” Jordan and Rook had gone to investigate… “That’s the Sandman in the waking world.” His dad frowned deeply. He shook his head and shrugged. “I don’t know what that means.” Yeah, well… “Neither do we.”— Erin Kellison
“Men were snoring, twitching and whimpering, struggling with nightmares less terrible than reality.”— Gabriel Chevallier
“In these myriad ways, we carved out our lives in Los Angeles. Yet falling asleep was often an act of travel, taking me quickly by the hand so that I am instantly surrounded by verdant foliage, the ocean’s emerald roar, the voices of Alice, Mala, our grandmother. Those most familiar and beloved of women.But there are also nightmares. Over and over I dream of a small house, a glittering lagoon, a mango tree, and a young girl. She stands before me and her large bruised eyes do not leave mine. When she unpins the sari fold at her shoulder and pulls it away from her, I see sunset-colored bruises on her delicate clavicles. When she undoes her sari blouse, I see the grenades tucked like extra breasts under her own. It is grotesque. I wake trembling, and her eyes stays with me for hours.”— Nayomi Munaweera