What My Soul Does When I Am Asleep
You've always had vivid dreams, the kind that feel so real you wonder if they're not just dreams.
For Gaby, a restless teenager, they are real. Her soul leaves her body while she sleeps, and she can't tell the difference between her dreams and her reality. But when her grandmother has a stroke, Gaby's life, and her dreams, get even stranger.
Her family travels to Australia to be with her grandmother, and in the hospital, Gaby discovers a comatose boy, Barclay. She soon realizes he's the same boy who has been appearing in her dreams.
Are their souls meeting in the place between wakefulness and sleep? Is this a coincidence, or is something more sinister connecting them?
In What My Soul Does When I Am Asleep, Stephen Simpson blurs the lines between dreams and reality, inviting you into a world where your deepest fears and desires become tangible.
This isn't just a story about dreams; it's a journey into the unknown depths of the human psyche.
Dare to enter Gaby's world.
You may never look at your dreams the same way again.
You’ll receive your eBook instantly after purchase (PDF + ePub formats included) with instructions for reading on any device—even Kindle!
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Quality Guarantee & Returns
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Because the product is delivered immediately to order, we do not accept general returns.
Manufacturer contact information
- Name: Fiction for the Soul Books
- eMail address: contact@support.fictionforthesoul.com
- Postal address (EU GDPR representative): PO Box 5696 Santa Monica CA 90405
Age restrictions: For ages 13+
Other compliance information: Meets the EU REACH requirements.
Book Details
Imprint : Fiction for the Soul Books
eBook ISBN : 9781393081364
Paperback ISBN : 9781393637462
First Published Date : 19 May 2015
Language : English
Pages : 184
Words : 36,876
Format : ePub & PDF (you own the files)
Read on : Kindle, Apple, Android devices, Google Play Books, Nook, Kobo eReaders, Computers.
Delivery Time and Method : Downloads will be emailed immediately upon purchase.
Keywords : Young Adult Fiction Book, Horror, Dark Fantasy, Mysteries & Thrillers, Fantasy & Supernatural, Paranormal Romance, Paranormal & Fantasy, Science Fiction & Fantasy
Read an excerpt
“I’m serious. My soul does leave my body when I am asleep.”
“Nonsense, Gaby,” my mum exclaims as she turns away from me and walks across the cream coloured tiles in the kitchen toward the counter where the kettle waits for her.
“Why won’t you believe me?” I ask with a definite tone of despair in my voice.
She sighs and even without turning back to me I can tell she is probably rolling her eyes. “Because it is highly improbable. Your soul cannot separate from your body. Your soul only leaves your body once, and that is when you die.”
Feeling a little frightened, I slip off the chair by the breakfast counter and storm out of the kitchen.
Am I dying every night?
I brush past my dad as he comes down the stairs. He is freshly showered and shaved; the spicy scent of his aftershave surrounds me in a pleasant, familiar smell. He beams a cheerful smile in my direction while I grimace. He is a morning person, and it really works on my nerves that anybody could be so happy so early in the morning.
“Good morning, Sunshine.”
“Morning,” I mumble on my way past him. Only he will know why he would call me Sunshine when I obviously look more like a Thundercloud.
He starts to whistle a tune, not in the least bothered by my mood—as always. I am definitely not a morning person, and thus one of the reasons why I believe my soul goes gallivanting at night when it is supposed to be resting. I always wake up tired, no matter how long I sleep, and I always seem to wake up violently, with a jerk, which is probably when my soul rushes back to my body after a night of wandering around.
In my room, I trip over the pile of laundry in front of my bed and knock my knee against the wooden leg of the foot-end of my bed. I curse under my breath and make a sideways flip onto my dishevelled bed. Usually, I do make my bed before I go down to get breakfast, and typically my room is relatively tidy. Not as neat as my mum wants it to be, but I know where everything is and if she makes me clean more than I usually do, I will be lost and looking for my stuff continuously. I like to refer to my decorating skills as organized chaos.
I mumble to the ceiling, “There must be an explanation.”