In the Wake of a Dream: Book One of the Newcomer Trilogy

By Shayn Bloom

Eighteen-year-old Annie McGallagher is seeing dreamcatchers everywhere. Among them is a tattoo curling down Ashton Wildecore’s chest in psychology class. Ash is gorgeous, mysterious, and out of nowhere taking a strange interest in Annie.

Ash, however, has a secret. He is a Dreamdrifter – a super human that can enter and heal subconscious minds. And that’s not even Ash’s biggest secret.

Embarrassed, Ash hides his secret from Annie.

Annie, however, has a secret of her own. Six years ago, her infant brother died in her arms. Shell-shocked, Annie’s subconscious is traumatized and nightmare stricken.

Scarred, Annie hides her secret from Ash.

She must find the truth about her brother’s murder.
He must find the courage to enter her subconscious.
Together, they might just find their dreams...

• Language: English
• Publisher: Shayn Bloom
• Release date: Jul 4, 2015
• ISBN: 9781311397140

Shayn Bloom

Shayn Bloom was born in Moscow, Russia and has been a writer since the age of thirteen, penning novels, poems, essays, songs, articles, short stories, and novellas. Shayn lives and writes in Denton, Maryland.

Book preview

In the Wake of a Dream

The Newcomer Trilogy (Book 1)

Shayn Bloom

Copyright 2015 Shayn Bloom.

For more information about the author and trilogy:

http://shaynbloom.blogspot.com

Edited and formatted by Kye Fehrenbach.

Cover design by Ronnell Porter.

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Table of Contents

Prologue

1. The Dreamcatcher Boy

2. The Awkward Dinner

3. The Dream

4. The Appalachian

5. The Holan

6. The Creed

7. Josephine

8. The Surface

9. The Newcomer

10. Eli

11. The Party

12. Caleb

13. The Teacher

14. The Ladder

15. The Dreamdrifter

16. The Utopian

17. In the Wake of a Dream

See beauty to behold,

In the ache of a beam

Touch hearts bold,

In the make of a seam

Smell love rolled,

In a cake of cream

Taste finest gold,

In the take of a stream

Hear stories unfold,

In the sake of redeem

Know truth will be told,

In the wake of a dream

– Dreamdrifter psalm

Prologue

Six years passed before I decided to forget my dreams.

I hated my dreams.

But I hated one dream in particular.

Like a tornado this dream would rip through my life, leaving me shattered. With this reoccurring ruin in mind, I determined to take control of my life.

I built a routine. I would rise each morning and forget the dream as quickly as possible, refusing to reflect once freed, the chains of the dream falling away, cowards against determination, leaving no scars.

My routine worked for a while. I began each morning with four motions: Eyes open, covers thrown off, feet on the floor, dream forgotten. I liked to combine the last two, racing to forget my dream by the time my feet hit the wooden floor of my bedroom. I was slowly getting better, becoming a master of self-distraction, each night’s dream rejected faster than the last.

I had won it seemed. I had conquered the night and taken control of the dream. Empowered, I realized that I could do or be anything. I just had to choose my dream. I couldn’t have known that my dream would choose me.

1. The Dreamcatcher Boy

I awoke, stung by the night.

In its wake I felt the fresh, pulsing bite. My skin tingled and my heart raced. I tossed the covers away. My feet hit the floor with my defenses. I had been caught off guard. The dream had come from behind.

It had been the dream. The dream I had been pushing away for six years. The dream I hadn’t relived in five months. The dream I had believed my determination could destroy.

I felt the warmth before I knew I was crying. Flushed, I leapt from the bed. I would not give in like this. I would not lose control. Standing, I inhaled deep, soothing breaths that calmed my heart.

Gazing around the room, I drank in the mess. The furniture was haphazard, that was the most obvious problem. My bed was crooked, the cushions were in disarray on the foldout couch, and everything from books to wrappers littered the floor. The cave was the room at the bottom of the staircase. Couches lined its wood paneled sides and a pellet stove stood in the corner where an old fashioned iron once stood. Walking through the cave, I continued up three stone steps and into the kitchen.

Dad walked in from the backyard. He was dressed in a white shirt and khaki pants. The tie slung over his shoulder would make its way around his neck as he sat in traffic on the way downtown. There he was, the professor.

Ready for your first day? Dad asked.

Yes, I replied. But I’m a bit nervous.

Dad nodded. I was always nervous before term started. Now I’m teaching and I’m still nervous! He snorted with self-deprecating amusement. Abnormal Psychology, you?

Intro to Psychology with Adia Arrowheart, I reeled off.

Dad looked surprised. You have Dr. Arrowheart?

Sighing, I rolled my eyes to the ceiling. You recommended her, remember?

Not really, Dad replied. But you’ll love her. She specialized in clinical depression.

Oh, I said.

Anyway, I’d better get going, he added, opening the refrigerator and grabbing a water bottle. Be on time! Leaning against the counter, I returned his wink before watching him descend into the cave and out through the front door. Have a good first day! Dad called.

Today was my first day of college. However, Dad and I would be heading in two different directions. While Dad would spend the semester driving to Johns Hopkins University, I would be going to Carroll Community College until I decided what to study. I could transfer later.

While in the bathroom upstairs, I peeked in the mirror above the sink. A skinny, eighteen year old girl stared back at me, her red pixie hair revealing ears that sat like question marks on the sides of her face. She smiled at me before turning away.

I dressed hurriedly after showering. I didn’t put on my jeans but fell into them and didn’t put on my bra but wrestled with it to comply. A shirt and backpack over my shoulder later I was running down the stairs.

Score was parked across the dirt driveway. My Celica was named Score for two reasons: its considerable age and the fact that I loved it regardless. Soon I was speeding up my long, dirt driveway at fifty, ignoring the tiny rocks that bounced and dived around the car frame like dolphins around a cruise ship.

Open acres stretched for miles and trees waved at me from the landscape of horse and cattle farms. Suburbia was whizzing by at sixty-five miles an hour and Westminster was fast approaching. Ten minutes later I pulled into the parking lot at Carroll Community College.

The main building was comprised of glass, red bricks, and high, vaulted roofs. I zigzagged through the crowd of people, passing under light posts and sporadically placed trees. I climbed the staircase inside while retrieving a piece of paper that I had scribbled on earlier. It read: LAB, 219.

A man crossed the top of the staircase.

Excuse me! I panted, reaching the top and feeling infinitely out of shape. The man was older, probably a professor. Am I in the right building? I handed him the scribbled note.

He looked down at the paper. Yes.

LAB?

Liberal Arts Building, he said. He pointed down the hallway. Your room is just down the hall there.

Thanks. Following his directions, I stopped at a line of students protruding from a doorway.

Two girls were talking in low voices. Regardless, I could hear what they were saying. I don’t understand, said the blonde of the two. They never do this.

What’re they doing? I asked.

The blonde girl turned to me, her silver eyes sweeping me into the gossip stream. "Dr. Arrowheart is assigning seats. Professors never assign seats."

That’s strange, I said.

"Yeah, she enunciated. Class should have started ten minutes ago." The line, however, was quickly dispersed as Dr. Arrowheart assigned each student a seat. Soon it was my turn.

The woman standing before me was short and black. Her hair was long, shining with red highlights, and dispatched into a weave that allowed it to curl around her voluptuous bosom. Blood red tint layered her eyelids and an enormous, metallic dreamcatcher necklace matched her earrings.

Name? Dr. Arrowheart spoke clearly.

Annie McGallagher.

Dr. Arrowheart, despite having assigned the previous girl her seat without so much as looking at her, gazed at me. "You’re Martin McGallagher’s daughter… third from the back on the right side, middle." I was taken aback by the short exchange.

"Thanks," I said, allowing my tone to curdle the word. Turning, I walked down the center aisle of the classroom. Finding my seat, I caught the internal whiff of a headache approaching. Sighing, I brought my palm to my face.

Not feeling well?

I looked to my left. My heart was instantly thrumming in my chest.

The boy sitting next to me was brighter than the sun. Brilliant hazel eyes burned above full lips that smiled above a thick, muscular body. A v-neck shirt revealed a rugged upper chest and a curling tattoo that dipped downward like a necklace. His hair was messy and yet flawless as it lay dirty blonde on his head like the luckiest hat ever. He was like reflected gold.

What? I stammered.

Are you not feeling well?

I – I’m alright. It’s just a headache.

Oh, he said. "I thought it might have been her. He motioned to the front of the room where Dr. Arrowheart was assigning seats to the final stragglers. I was watching. It was difficult not to hyperventilate while gazing at him. Those hazel eyes threatened to explode a bombshell of desire in me. He smiled. I’m Ash."

I’m Annie.

I’m Dr. Arrowheart, Adia said, taking center stage. I will be your professor for Intro to Psychology, Social and Behavioral Sciences, during this summer session. We’ll be meeting on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays for the rest of July. My expertise is in clinical depression. Any questions? As I watched Adia stare down her classroom, I realized something. I didn’t like her. Wonderful! Adia continued. Let’s get started. She turned back to the desk to deposit her clipboard.

She whirled around. Sex!

The blonde girl looked up with her mouth agape, her furious texting of a second ago forgotten. Another girl spluttered on her coffee and a third dropped her pen. I looked at Ash.

Sex is the defining characteristic of our personalities, Adia said. "Or that’s what some psychologists believed. Adia smiled. Who is considered the father of modern psychology?"

A boy raised his hand. Freud?

"Sigmund Freud." Retrieving a piece of chalk, Adia walked to the blackboard.

Ash chuckled. I think he had it right.

"Freud is most famous for his thoughts on the subconscious mind, Adia continued, her back turned to the class as she scribbled. He said that sex and sexuality define our subconscious minds."

What do you think?

Startled, I met Ash’s eyes. "Sorry, what?’

Do you think we are defined by our subconscious minds? His eyes were boring into mine, his muscular body tensed.

Oh, I said. I’m not sure.

His eyes left mine and wandered to Adia as though for help. His body relaxed but seemed to deflate simultaneously. My thoughts were racing and confused. Had he been serious?

Dusting the chalk from her hands, Adia turned back to the class. What was Freud talking about when he referred to ‘the royal road to the subconscious’? The room was silent. Ash twitched. "Dreams, Adia murmured, leaning against her desk. Freud said that dreams are the royal road to the subconscious mind. Dreams take place on a stage called the subconscious mind. Remember that. She went back to the blackboard. Take down these notes." Adia freed the class two hours later. Students gathered their books before loading them into backpacks and large purses.

Want to grab lunch? Ash asked.

Of course, I said too quickly. I mean, yes. We left the room. The sun had risen to its highest point. Closing my eyes, I listened as the outside door to the building closed behind us, signaling freedom.

Feeling better? Ash asked.

Yeah, I guess, I said. It’s just been a crazy day.

How about that Dr. Arrowheart, huh?

"She’s interesting, I said. Definitely knows what she’s talking about."

I’d hope so! Ash’s hazel eyes danced in the sunlight. So about that bite, he continued. Dining hall?

Sure, I answered. But I don’t know where it is. This is my first day on campus, my first day of college actually.

Seriously? Ash smiled. Why psych?

I want to help people,