By C.E. Murphy
A lot of the town cannot get up. And extra are slumbering off on a daily basis. rather than robust forces storming Seattle, a extra insidious invasion is occurring. such a lot of Joanne Walker's fellow police officers are down with the blue flu—or particularly the blue sleep. but there isn't any actual reason somebody can element to—and it retains spreading. It should be magical, Joanne figures. yet what is up with the loopy goals that hit her at any time when she closes her eyes? Are they being despatched by way of Coyote, her still-missing spirit consultant? The messages simply are not transparent. by some means Joanne has to get up her dozing pals whereas retaining these nonetheless wakeful, determine her inner-spirit dream lifestyles and, yeah, come to phrases with those different desires she's having approximately her boss….
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Additional info for Coyote Dreams
I had the distinct impression I was being bulldozed and I’d somehow given tacit permission for that to happen. My bellybutton was yards above the waistband. Phoebe slapped my hands away from the waistband, zipped the zipper and buttoned the button, then stood back and nodded approvingly. I held it up in dismay. I squawked and clutched it against my chest. Phoebe tied another series of strings behind my back, then clucked her tongue. Phoebe clucked again and came back out with a palmful of mousse that she rifled through my hair.
Phoebe looked insufferably smug. ” Her grin was bright, and Mark laughed. ” I left the apartment with Mark, feeling somehow like I was walking half an inch in the air. Morrison couldn’t, but a blind man could. She’s a 1969 Boss 302. Mark made a face at me and I laughed out loud again. I wanted one of my very own. “No, thanks,” I said. “I’m not much of a wine drinker, anyway,” I mumbled. Mark gave me a disarming smile. “Tell me to screw off if it’s none of my business, but I’m really curious about what Gary mentioned this morning.
Not night, not stars, but heavy pressing blackness, the color of sorrow and loneliness. Orange reflected high against that blackness, like city lights glowing against the night, but there was raw intent in this color. From what I’ve tasted of desire whispered through my mind, and I lowered my eyes to the horizons, knowing what I would see. I was wrong. Colors here weren’t real in the sense that I knew them, and the world had edges defined by those colors and by the mountains. Tears ran down my cheeks from the heat and I strained into it, gulping in rough breaths as I tried to stop what sure as hell looked like the end of the world.