Sister Maiden Monster by Lucy A Snyder

Publisher ‏ : ‎ Tor Nightfire (February 21, 2023 US )
Titan Books 02 March 2023 UK)
Language ‏ : ‎ English
Paperback ‏ : ‎ 272 pages
ISBN-10 ‏ : ‎ 1250825652
ISBN-13 ‏ : ‎ 978-1250825650

A Horror Book Review by Tony Jones 
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This was my first foray into the fiction of Lucy A Snyder and truth be told I was caught totally on the hop by the levels of sheer brutality which unfolded over the next 300+ totally wild pages. I’m not sure what I was expecting, but I found myself both mesmerized and grossed out by the astonishing levels of body horror which would give prime David Cronenberg a run for his money. Be prepared for skulls being nonchalantly cracked open, with the contents devoured by infected individuals who have developed an insatiable hunger for human brains. However, whilst it was gross, it never felt exploitative, with some of the scenes almost sensual (did I just say that?!?) Neither was Sister Maiden Monster a boring spin on the modern zombie novel or comedy in the style of Return of the Living Dead, instead it was played with a very serious straight bat and the result is an incredibly powerful novel that blasts into cosmic apocalyptic End of Days territory.


The very clever way in which the deadly virus which beats at the core of Sister Maiden Monster mirrored Covid-19 was slyly and cleverly done. Set a few years after Covid, when this new threat arrives the population are already familiar with social distancing, mask wearing and periods of self-isolation. This novel ramps up the idea of a deadly virus and pushes us into a cosmic nightmare, which also keeps a keen eye on the science via a cool You Tube channel buzzing in the background. This was a gripping blend of what starts out in ‘speculative’ territory before going full-blast Lovecraft. Similar to Covid-19 the virus in Sister Maiden Monster effects people in different ways and is a clever part of the narrative, some are completely asymptomatic, whilst you do not want to know what happens to others!


I loved the way the breakdown of society is seen through three unique female voices (Erin, Savannah and Mareva) whom are all impacted in hugely different ways from the early days in hospital isolation to later periods when the government have snipers on building roofs looking for anything suspicious. This was Covid-19 multiplied by a thousand as the three try to survive (or embrace) the virus which is destined to change humanity.      


Upon starting Sister Maiden Monster I knew very little about the plot and loved how everything opened up so normally before the brutal escalation. Erin was looking forward to getting married and instead ends up in hospital after contracting the virus and is then given a new set of rules for living which forbids her from mixing with others, having sex, or going out in crowds (just for a start). The scene when she wakes up strapped to a bed, but has no idea why, was outstanding. Finding herself attracted to certain women and seeking out others who have the virus she has a transformation and has perhaps the biggest section of the book, which also cleverly drops into the narratives of the other two women.


Savannah and Mareva have less page time that Erin and focus more on different stages of the unfolding apocalypse, but all three are changed in different ways and are pieces of the cosmic jigsaw in the wider story arc.  I found all three characters to be highly entertaining and particularly enjoyed how they were seen wildly different by each other across the narratives. This was a highly creative novel with excellent world building and often it is easy for characters to become secondary to the world building aspects, but this did not happen in Sister Maiden Monster where people and setting complimented each other beautifully. Even the support characters and victims carried weight from the thoughtful nurse to the infected girlfriend, government agent, You Tube channel host, sensitive boyfriend and repressed casual pickup were fully formed.


Events undoubtedly have a feminist edge and I enjoyed the blend of science fiction elements which are convincingly mixed into the horror. The intense sexual turn on during killing was unsettling, particularly when blended with the wild levels of violence which go hand in hand with the complex and unique transformations the three women go through. Although the story focusses on the three personal changes, it also successfully conveys the world-wide morphoses and the bigger picture. The book did end very abruptly and although there was nothing wrong with the (very) end I’m not sure how well it gelled with what went before as it lacked explanation. I’m uncertain there is enough milage for a sequel which would provide more information, unless there was some sort of resistance, but I would certainly read it should it ever materialise.


I have a feeling Sister, Maiden, Monster will excite and disgust readers in equal measures and I think the author would take that as a compliment! The levels of violence were unflinchingly brutal, but at the same time strangely captivating. In fiction the End of Days trope really has been done to death, but Lucy A Snyder still manages to bring something fresh (and not just brains) to the party. Wacky science and cosmic horror are combined brilliantly in this highly original apocalyptic gorefest.


Tony Jones

As a reviewer, I am constantly faced with the age-old battle of picking which books and authors to review. Do I seek out new authors or stick with authors I know and trust? It's a challenging catch-22 situation, as reviewers should reach out and find new and exciting voices, but at the same time, there is a finite amount of time to read, and the worry that you are wasting your time trying out a new author always preys on my mind. This is why I love the shorter forms of fiction; novellas and anthologies are the keys to discovering new and exciting authors.  


When I read Chịkọdịlị Emelumadu's story in the excellent Isolation anthology edited by Dan Coxon, I was immediately captived by the power of her writing, evocative, intriguing, and filled with a raw sense of power; her story was a highlight of the anthology. So when I heard that Chịkọdịlị Emelumadu had a novel coming out, I jumped at the chance to review it.  


Dazzling is one of those novels that literally knocks you to the floor with its brilliance and shows you that as a reader and a reviewer, you must make an effort to read beyond the confines of the authors you read. It shows that the genre can only be enriched by the inclusion of voices from those who bring a new perspective to worlds of horror and fantasy.  


Told from a dual narrative viewpoint of Ozoemena Neokeke, a relatively well-to-do teenage girl who has moved to Nigeria, struggling with fitting into a new exclusive school, and the mysterious disappearance of her father and Treasure, who, after the death of her father is destitute, struggling to exist on the unforgiving streets of the city, her life couldn't be further away from Ozoemena's if she tried. However, their lives will come crashing together as their lives are intertwined as Ozoemena discovers she is destined to become the avatar of a powerful supernatural leopard spirit in this heady, powerful, and intriguing story.  


Books work best, no matter what their genre is, when they transport you from the boring, mundane world of your day-to-day life to a rich and vibrant world, and, in this respect, Dazzling is a triumphant success, the Nigerian setting explodes off the page, you are entirely immersed in the sights, sounds and smells of the novel's setting. Rarely have I read a book that manages to envelop the reader so completely in this regard; it was a joy to encounter a world that was so different to worlds that I walk in far too often when reading a book.  


Adding to this richness of narrative setting is Emelumadu's incredible use of speech throughout the novel. Her use of local dialect and the rhythm of language was an inspired choice; I'll admit it took me a few chapters to get into the for me entirely, unfamiliar beats of how the two main characters spoke, but such was the power of her writing even during these early stages of the novel the style of writing completely enthralled me, and once I managed to clap along to the cadence properly Dazzling transcended from being a great novel to an exceptional novel that demanded my full attention.  


As for the themes of this novel, Emelumadu doesn't shy away from some heavy themes; it is at times brutal, unrelenting and heartbreaking. However, there is always a sense of beauty in the struggle of two young women struggling to find their way in a society that views them as lesser beings. In a world where justice is rarely just and family and ancestral honour rank so highly, the struggles that both girls face in finding the answers to what happened to their fathers and coming to terms with being the "chosen child." is one of the most compelling long-form narratives I have read in many a year.  


Emelumadu's use of magic throughout Dazzling is refreshing, lending the magic system and its use in the book a strong sense of realism; those looking for the lightweight flights of fancy of a certain spectacled schoolboy won't find that here; what you will find is a use of magic deeply ingrained and realistically portrayed from the Nigerean setting of the novel.  


While there is a profound beauty to Dazzling, there is also a horror element to it, where at times, the horror of the lives of the two girls are almost as horrific as the supernatural elements of the book; there are a few scenes that will have you wincing.  


Dazzling is an imaginative dark fantasy/horror novel that dares to be different from what most of us have read, and when the author's narrative voice roars as loud as the spirit leopard, you cannot help but sit up and take notice. ​

The Night Begins  by Abigail F Taylor 
Publisher ‏ : ‎ Luna Press Publishing (7 Feb. 2023)
Language ‏ : ‎ English
Paperback ‏ : ‎ 116 pages

A Horror Book Review by Jim McLeod 

A decade ago Ben Wheatley’s film Kill List proved that there are rich pickings to be had in the borderland between folk horror and gritty realism, and today’s horror novelists are keener than ever to till that cursed soil. The first few chapters of The Hollows could come straight from one of those Northern crime offerings by the likes of Peter Robinson, with the discovery of a corpse in an unusual predicament and a herd of cops and medics tramping around in the rural Derbyshire cold. As the body count increases it becomes apparent that Constable Cheetham is dealing with supernatural forces, but in the first half of the book the hardest-hitting terrors are much closer to home. Cheetham is a pleasant enough heroine, and I enjoyed her interactions with her time-serving “superior” Ted Graham, but what really gets The Hollows started is the introduction of the corpse’s family, the denizens of the local Bad Farm.

Helmed by diamond-hard matriarch Liz, the Harpers are the kind of farmers who are more into dogfights and bathtub meth than organic honey and heritage breeds. Between them they embody all the deadly sins and then some, a rural equivalent of the council estate gang family that haunts the British popular imagination. With the exception of Jess and the deceased Tony, they could easily be empty stereotypes, but Church is able to bring them all to life and make them compelling, especially Liz and Keira. Just as importantly, their arrival is a chance to see some of the darkness in Ellie, who understandably entertains fantasies of swift and blinding violence throughout her “death knock” visit to the family. For me the best bits in the book are the tussles between the law and the Harpers, which at times have a white-knuckled intensity worthy of rural action films like Straightheads or Straw Dogs.

But gradually the folk horror element creeps in. The Harpers are in league with something very old and very malignant, and as the nights draw in the village comes under attack from the kind of creatures that need the input of a spooky vicar to deal with (in this case Madeleine, who has shades of Phil Rickman’s Merrily Watkins, but blunter and wielding a pack of dogs instead of a surly teenage daughter.) Soon Church is handling a cast of thousands (well, dozens) as everyone does their best to survive, and there are some very tense moments and nasty little details as good and evil lock horns on a scale that is both cosmic and very local.

Aimed at a broad market, The Hollows is very representative of the folk horror/action crossover subgenre that is now popular with mainstream and indie presses alike (think Adam Nevill’s The Reddening or any number of lesser works about pissed-off stags.) But it also stands out for a couple of reasons. One of its big themes is the nature of community, and how people come together in times of crisis. However, with the story arc of the Harper family – village outsiders who’ve been ostracized for generations while simultaneously being entrusted with an insanely important job - Church also sheds light on a fact people often prefer to ignore about communities, which is that you can’t create one without excluding somebody. Every community needs an outsider, a social leper who is doomed to sit outside the campfire’s cosy glow, and Church’s awareness of this constantly prevents The Hollows from sinking into sentiment. This is mostly done through the character of Jess, the Good Harper, who yearns to belong while at the same time being riddled with anger and mistrust of the villagers who have long shunned her family.

Another strong point of the novel is its commitment to depicting the real mental health impact of participating in violence, either as victim or perpetrator. The fact that Cheetham is allowed to have a great big panic attack without losing her authority is a definite improvement on traditional portrayals of tough cops, and if you want a book that showcases women’s strength in a wide variety of different ways, you’ll get what you came for here. As a card-carrying coward with no female strength at all, the only character I came close to identifying with was Graham, but the scenes of otherworldly carnage and human brutality are leavened with some amusing snappy dialogue that could only come from the north of England: “cocks” here, “wacks” there, and even a Bedlington terrier thrown in. I would recommend  The Hollows to anyone looking for an action novel that packs a lot of firepower while acknowledging that going unarmed is often what requires the most courage.

A Horror Book Review by Ben Walker

There are some books which call out to you even before you've sampled a single word within, and honestly, how could you pass up a title so intriguing as Death in the Mouth? What collector of books could look at that cover, all impossible limbs with flashes of teeth & eyes, and not want to add it to their shelf? And what fan of horror could possibly pass over an anthology which boasts 26 original offerings from a diverse collection of BIPOC authors? Not to mention the interior artwork from a myriad of talented artists, which provides an introduction to the book, and features next to each story, offering intriguing visions of what's to come.


Suffice to say I was on board with this book ever since I heard about it, and having backed the Kickstarter I was pleased to receive both an ebook and paperback version, but the paperback is where the anthology truly shines. As nice as it was to see the artwork on my e-reader, having the generously-sized physical copy makes it a lot easier to flick between the various black & white artworks, which really are stunning to behold.


But hey, this is an anthology, so you want to hear about the stories, right? Editors Sloane Leong and Cassie Hart have an incredible eye for talent, and there's not a single story in this book which had me wanting to speed-read through to the next one. This is a book deserving of the same amount of care & attention when reading that clearly went into putting it together. Every tale is compelling and different, each one deserving to be savoured, and the book starts off strongly with Isha Karki's unsettling opener, Welcome to Labyrinth (with illustration by Natalie Hall). This tale has a mythic yet modern feel, using the titular Labyrinth as a metaphor for our society and the way it expects anyone different to fit in to their invented standards, or gaslights them into playing along. It's stark and horrifying, much like the real world it reflects.


Other standouts include K-Ming Chang's The Three Resurrections of my Grandfather (illustrated by Sloane Hong), a surreal story involving family obligations, superstition and tradition. These elements are woven brilliantly through a three-part tale packed with dreamlike imagery and dreams alike, as its small cast of well-realised characters deal with the impending death of their grandfather, and what comes next. There are moments of beauty, sadness and creeping unease which all blend perfectly together to make a weird, brilliant read.


They'll Keep You Gestated by Beatrice Winifred Iker (illustrated by Molly Mendoza) opens with a sting of body horror before going to quite a different place, within the confines of...well, that's something for you to discover alongside its antagonist.


And Endria Isa Richardson's Wind Up Teeth (illustrated by Rem) delivers a superb piece of isolation-based horror, as a trio of kids wonder what's lurking outside their hiding place. Their curiosity and dread matches yours as they get closer to the answer, and there are some truly hair-raising moments throughout, all the way through to a thoroughly disconcerting ending.


The illustrated introduction to this brilliant anthology explains how, for marginalised people, horror is an everyday thing, and the power behind so many of these stories is rooted in that truth. This is especially true of the character work, which feels incredibly real no matter what the protagonists find themselves dealing with, from recognisable real-life horrors to the fantastical and supernatural. Many of these tales will touch your heart, perhaps even break it a few times along the way. It's not an easy read, with stories ranging from gruesome to psychologically terrifying and everything in-between. Don't miss out, the voices in this phenomenal, essential book are to be ignored at your own risk.

I realized, quite early on in Ray Cluley’s “The Final Girl’s Daughter”, that it was something more than just another slasher exploration. It was the second-to-last story from his 2022 collection All That’s Lost, but the first one I read. I thought the title spelled the story out, and that I could skim through some easy slasher carnage to learn Cluley’s style. I thought I knew what path the story would take, even the left turns that a clever author would use to subvert expectations. I mean, I do know the Final Girl tropes. I’m also familiar with how those tropes have been inverted, exploded, and expanded by horror writers since the curveball of Scream. I thought I’d be reading a story about masked violence, trauma, and grief. I thought it would be a story that would inevitably twist as it ended, because these stories always do.

And that kind of happened. But it also didn’t, which was when I really began to enjoy myself.

Cluley’s story concerns the long aftermath of a massacre, which is familiar territory for avid horror fans these days. It centers on two adults who bear hideous scars both physical and mental. Asides from brief respites, their lives have mostly been car crashes since their fateful night. The story begins as Sally stops in at the garage where fellow survivor Richard works to inform him that she’s going back to the farm where it all happened. And what comes next certainly deals with trauma and grief. It re-tells the events in all the grisly details. And it involves a showdown close to the end.

However, there’s more to the story, and not just because of the daughter’s presence. Richard and Sally are not pawns. They are not there to contrive a ‘gotcha’ moment or a sick meta-twist. There’s respect and admiration and love for these characters that shines through the writing because Cluley convinces us that they deserve it:

“…He started wiping his hands and arms with the rag from his back pocket, saw how it cleaned up his scars, and stopped. He limped towards her. She met him halfway to save him the bother.”

They have agency throughout the story, actions that come from places other than grief, reactions and thoughts that aren’t a result of the corn-fed boogeyman that irrevocably changed their lives and killed their friends. The conclusion is grisly, sad, tender, and even a little kind. The whole story is completely unexpected despite feeling familiar. It’s scary in a way that makes so much sense.

I hoped that the other stories would offer similar surprises and was not disappointed. Each of these seventeen stories, going back all to 2016, easily justify their existence. Each one is its own world. There are monsters galore, human and otherwise, but also mental breaks, seismic shifts in reality, random violence, folkloric fulfillment, and horrific revenge, all brought to the page through characters who don’t know what kind of story they’re trying to live through.

Cluley’s style is at once precise and lyrical. It easily lures you in even as he builds up the dread. The characters are centered in the stories and thankfully get time to breathe. He’s almost indulgent with his dialogue, but I appreciate that. Characters talk and explain and whine and complain and tease and laugh throughout. They say the wrong thing, they excuse themselves, they speak their truths. Backstories and history are there to increase the force of the narrative instead of simply providing context. You’re going to get to know these characters and feel along with them.

An additional strength is that Cluley does the necessary work to set scenes so there’s no confusion or questioning. His sense of place, the importance of location—I’m guessing thanks to first-hand experience coupled with diligent research—provides each story with its own reality. The African wildlife reserve in “Painted Wolves”, a cinderblock cattle shed in the found-footage horror “6/6”, an Indian ship-breaking yard in “Steel Bodies”, and even Martha’s Vineyard both during and after the filming of JAWS in “The Wrong Shark” are places of nightmare, but they’re also vital to the stories. The details and descriptions make you want to spend time in these places before the characters even do anything.
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Finally, these stories don’t cheat. There’s no weird-for-weird sake — though there’s plenty of strangeness on display. There’s no hallucinatory fever-dreams that introduce dues ex machina endings or left-field reveals that torpedo the whole story. The strangeness, the horror, the absolute delicious dread that builds through each story is earned from the first perfect sentence and carried through to the conclusion. It’s such an enjoyable experience that, once I finished my first reading of “The Final Girl’s Daughter”, I went and started at the beginning of the collection just so I knew I wouldn’t miss anything.

​"There's a tiny gap between the stories we tell ourselves and those we tell others and that's where you'll find the truth."



All That's Lost is the second collection from award-winning horror writer Ray Cluley, bringing together 17 stories exploring the haunted, the strange, and the uncanny.



Lose yourself in the darkness here, and find yourself changed...

Melinda West: Monster Gunslinger by KC Grifant

ASIN ‏ : ‎ B0BNWR19WN
Publisher ‏ : ‎ Brigids Gate Press, LLC (2 Feb. 2023)
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A Horror Book Review by  Tasha Schiedel 

In an Old West overrun by monsters, a stoic gunslinger must embark on a dangerous quest to save her friends and stop a supernatural war.

Sharpshooter Melinda West, 29, has encountered more than her share of supernatural creatures after a monster infection killed her mother. Now, Melinda and her charismatic partner, Lance, offer their exterminating services to desperate towns, fighting everything from giant flying scorpions to psychic bugs. But when they accidentally release a demon, they must track a dangerous outlaw across treacherous lands and battle a menagerie of creatures—all before an army of soul-devouring monsters descend on Earth.

The Witcher meets Bonnie and Clyde in a re-imagined Old West full of diverse characters, desolate landscapes, and fast-paced adventure.

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Dreams, their content, meaning, interpretation and influence upon our waking lives, have fascinated humankind for thousands of years. Our ancient ancestors in Sumer, Egypt and Babylon believed Divine agents routinely communicated with us during those nightly journeys through slumberland, yet over a century's worth of data collection by Oneirologists (dream studiers) has failed to uncover precisely where dreams originate, if a single or multiple regions of the brain are involved, or what evolutionary purpose dreaming serves for either mind or body.

The mercurial, metamorphic, often unsettling nature of dreams has been both the springboard for religious, philosophical, artistic and even inventive thought (Google, the Periodic Table and the sewing machine were all dream-stimulated innovations) as well as an unrivaled mirror into our own individual personal subconscious. Dreams weave our hopes, desires, anxieties, past actions and daily routines together in vivid, often grotesquely distorted, ways; it's little wonder then that innumerable paintings, plays, poems, operas, novels and films have utilized those visions as their narrative centerpiece, and from A Midsummer's Night Dream to Inception, H.P. Lovecraft's Dream Cycle to the Elm Street nightmares inflicted by Freddy Krueger, they provide a bottomless inspirational well.

Valhalla Books' release of author Mark Allan Gunnells' horror-thriller, Lucid, is the latest creative effort in that fevered lineage. By definition, a lucid dream is any in which the dreamer obtains awareness of their dream state while dreaming. Results from scientific studies over the last fifty years have shown that while roughly 55% of people experience lucid dreams at least once in their lifetime, a significantly smaller fraction have the uncommon ability to actively control the content of their dreams, and it's this rare facility that Lucid's protagonist, Jimmy Mullinax, possesses. After enduring traumatic childhood abuse from his hateful, hard-drinking mom, Jimmy discovers his talent at an early age, using it to construct an elaborate, escapist fantasy domain where he retains godlike control of every minute detail. Jimmy's lusterless day-to-day existence is bland and disappointing; he routinely shuns beneficial human contact in favor of the make-believe he's fostered in his dreamworld, where he's designed idealized versions of his mother, his boyfriends and even a deceased teenage crush. Once he suffers an automobile accident at the novel's onset and lapses into a coma, however, there's no escaping the realm he's crafted, and when he alarmingly realizes that some of those he's drawn into his never-ending dream are independently sentient of his influence and plotting his demise in the real world, a conflict erupts that threatens to destroy them all.

True to its subject, the narrative structure in Lucid shares the same chimerical, stream-of-consciousness quality as actual dreams, flowing from the starting point of Jimmy's accident, back into his past and sliding effortlessly into the dreamworld before the cycle begins anew. Though a very different work than Gunnells' previous novel, the campus slice-of-life exercise The Advantaged, there exists common thematic threads about identity, responsibility, self-acceptance and, ultimately, forgiveness. Gunnells takes a risk in showing the audience just how Jimmy came to be where he is; as a protagonist, he's often unsympathetic, selfish, egocentric, controlling, manipulative, cowardly, lazy--at times verging on megalomania. In his dreamscape Jimmy exerts a deity's dominion in a way he wishes he had in the waking world--that he could have, if only he set aside his fretful anxieties. In a lesser writer such a gamble would arouse antipathy in an audience, yet Gunnells consistently displays a supreme capacity for layering his characters with a depth that defies stereotyping. Jimmy's mother, for instance, portrayed initially as simple lowlife white trash, is progressively shown as more than the sum of her flawed parts, a thoroughly human figure who, like all of us, has made her share of bad decisions and must live with the consequences. Jimmy, too, has to face his own fears and imperfections to realize that he's squandering his potential, and on this level his obsessive need for the dream kingdom can be seen as an allegory for addiction: like an opium fiend, he's allowed his nighttime excursions to become his sole preoccupation, and he willingly throws away real-world relationships in favor of their faultless dream counterparts.

There's much more to Lucid than a character study, however. As sheer entertainment value, it's a difficult book to put down; once Gunnells has an audience in his clutches, there's no letting go until the roller coaster ride is over. Fun, rapid-fire dialogue and clever pop cultural nods to The Cure, Clive Barker and The Crow liven even the darkest of scenes with wit, heart and humor. To anyone familiar with Neil Gaiman's bravura graphic novel series, The Sandman, the unreal setting of Lucid is similar to The Dreaming, and the climactic battle between Jimmy and his primary adversary, Brent--a youth whose spirit Jimmy inadvertently trapped by continually bringing him into the dreamworld post mortem--defines the word epic. In the limitless realm of Jimmy's subconscious, their struggle is a clash of two titans; mountains shatter, tectonic plates crumble, oceans rise--and pages flip by with such pulse-pounding speed it leaves readers breathless. In the end, though, the question of whether Jimmy triumphs over his enemy is oddly unimportant; the central issue of this novel is the hopeful notion that no matter who we are or how much we may have failed, redemption can always be found if we work towards it.

Pushing the boundaries of possibility, overflowing with ideas, surreal imagery and laced with emotion, this bold, exciting and supremely imaginative novel will leave any reader longing, like Jimmy himself, that the dream will never end, and it's for that reason that I give Lucid the full 5 (out of 5) on my Fang Scale. This would make a spectacular big-budget Hollywood extravaganza. Highly recommended.

"With Lucid, Mark Allan Gunnells has delivered a powerful and original novel that I read in one sitting, because I was too captured by the story to stop. This will easily be one of my favorite books this year."

John R. Little, Bram Stoker Award winning author of The Memory Tree and Miranda

Jimmy Mullinax has the perfect life ... as long as he is asleep.

Jimmy discovered at a young age that he was a lucid dreamer, able to control his dreams and create an ideal world for himself. No matter how rough things got in his waking life, he always had the dream world into which he could escape. Until the accident.

After getting hit by a car, Jimmy finds himself in a coma, which traps him in his dream world. At first this seems wonderful, but then he realizes that the people in his dream have more autonomy than he thought. And some of them want him dead.

Can Jimmy wrestle control of his dream back from those that want to turn it into a nightmare?