Sneak Peek of Dreamstealer

With the release of Dreamstealer looming, here’s an excerpt to whet your appetite. This scene was inspired by these little things I saw at work one day. They’re some kind of plant found in the desert, but I’m turning them into something deliciously creepy. Hope you enjoy.

Image copyright Angela Wallace

Image copyright Angela Wallace

Late that night, Lexa lay on top of her bed listening to the rain patter against the window and the wind whistle as it whipped in and out of the towers. She hadn’t meant to drift off, but in the next moment the sounds of the storm had been replaced with the silence of the dreamscape. She wandered absentmindedly until she returned to the dark forest where she had seen Dirk’s specter.

It was still a forest, but the bark on the trees was now black, like a coating of charcoal. The shadows in the canopy and along the forest floor looked bottomless, as though Lexa could fall right into them and be swallowed up. The gnarled trunks creaked and groaned, and the entire wood seemed to be moving, swaying. Something skittered through the treetops. Lexa raised her arm to summon a sword, but a shimmer of light in that dark place caught her attention. A wispy phantom floated toward her.

She froze, hope flickering deep down like a dying ember. “Dirk?”

The skittering in the trees increased in number, tap, tap, tapping so fast the sound started to buzz. The specter stopped ten feet from her. Dirk’s face rippled into view. Lexa gasped. Her hand twitched as though to reach out to him, but she held it back. Was it really him? His mouth moved, but no sound came out.

“What?” she shouted in frustration. The clicking movements were now all around her, though she still couldn’t see anything in the shadows. The trees felt as though they were bending down, oppressive and menacing.

Lexa’s head started to pound. She put her hands up to cover her ears as they throbbed with an intense ringing. “Stop it!” This was her dreamscape; it couldn’t hurt her.

The ghost of Dirk surged forward, enveloping her like a sheet of heavy, muggy fog. In a flash, the mysterious beings in the treetops descended—hundreds of three-legged, talon-shaped insects. They looked like fossilized bird claws, two thin legs curling on top, one on the bottom, with barbs at the tips. The middle body was no wider than a thumb with a split down the center for a mouth, except it looked sewn shut with fibrous roots.

The insects crawled down the trunks and dropped from the leaves onto Lexa’s shoulders. She swatted at them, but in an instant they swarmed over her head and down her body. The wiry thin legs snapped at her, pinching her clothes and hair, weighing her down as they multiplied on top of her. She twisted and turned, trying to get them off, and slipped onto one knee. She gasped, and breathed in the filmy substance that still covered her. Cold, wet slime slid down her throat. Gagging, she fell to her elbows. One of the creatures latched onto her neck and dug its barbs into her flesh. They bore down on her, pressing her face into the mud as she choked on the filmy ectoplasm.

With a shuddering start, she bolted upright in bed.



Watch for Dreamstealer coming this month! And be sure to read the first book, Dreamwalker, available at Amazon, B&N, and Kobo.

Add the book on Goodreads.


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Dreamwalker Launch Party

I’m excited to announce Dreamwalker is now available on Amazon, B&N, and Smashwords!  If anyone wants to join the party and help get the word out, I’ve typed up some pre-written content you can simply copy and paste in your Facebook or Twitter streams.  Or you can fiddle with them as you like.  And at the bottom, enjoy another teaser from the book!

Facebook Posts (or G+)

Angela Wallace’s latest fantasy novella, Dreamwalker, is now available for purchase as an e-book! Two dreamwalkers: one a devout soldier, the other a rogue assassin. Last one standing wins.

My good friend and author Angela Wallace has released the e-book edition of her latest book, a fantasy novella entitled Dreamwalker. The dreamscape is a perilous place, a world of ever shifting shadows. And if you see the murky brown fog—run.

Like fantasy, sword fights, and a mysterious rogue in black? Check out Dreamwalker on Amazon Kindle!

Excited to get a copy of Angela Wallace’s latest book, Dreamwalker. Two dreamwalkers: one a devout soldier, the other a rogue assassin. Last one standing wins.

The links above and below are for Amazon, but if you’re a B&N fan, here’s the link for there too:

Twitter Tweets

Author @AngelaRWallace released the ebook edition of her fantasy novella #Dreamwalker! Get it for $2.99!

Excited to get the Kindle Edition of @AngelaRWallace ’s fantasy novella #Dreamwalker. Newly released for $2.99!

Congrats to @AngelaRWallace for her Kindle release of her fantasy novella #Dreamwalker. Get it for $2.99!

#Dreamwalker, @AngelaRWallace ’s fantasy novella is now available as an ebook!



The horizon on all sides faded into a gray haze, blurring any sense of direction. Vines snaked along the ground, alternating between full blossoms and bare, gnarled branches, an infinite river of plants that stretched further than Lexa could see.

After half a mile, the trees on her left turned barren and the riverbed ran dry into a bare expanse. The sterile landscape branched out into a murky haze, like brown and black shadows writhing together. Lexa frowned. Things did not tend to appear so dead in the dreamscape. Usually life and blossoms were mixed, like the vines, reality and possibility twisted together. This was pure ugliness.

She came to a sudden stop as recognition hit. She’d been here before. Dread washed over her and she forgot herself in the impact of the one memory she tried to forget—this stretch of land and the terrible creatures that came from the nearby curtain of dark fog. Blood began seeping up from the dirt around her, spreading and pooling like red oil. From the looming blackness ahead floated the Nightmares, bobbing blobs of thick darkness.  They loomed in various sizes, from the smallest ones the size of a fist, to huge, fat globs that could engulf a man’s chest. Lexa knew they were coming, yet all she could do was stand frozen, gaze locked on the familiar face emerging through the film of blood with its empty eyes staring up at her. The Nightmares sensed her terror and were drawn to it.


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What Dreams May Come

I’ve always had a very active imagination, and it hasn’t been limited to my consciousness.  I enjoy the dreams that take me on adventures on par with novel story lines.  The nightmares not so much.  Then there are the ones a little too close to real life, but not quite, or the very strange ones.  Why did I dream I was melded into the trunk of a tree?

A friend suggested I check out Betty Bethards’s Dream Book on dream interpretation.  I was curious, so I went ahead and got it from the library.  Dreams are a way for us to process events in our lives and work through issues.  This makes sense.  Growing up, I had a recurring dream of being trapped in my backyard.  I would try to climb the fence to see the world beyond, but it was too high to climb.  I’d try flying, but would get caught in the power lines.  Night after night, I would struggle against the prison of my little world, until one night I finally broke through.

It makes sense that those dreams were my subconscious working through feelings of being stifled, whether from the limitations of health problems or the emotional domination that made me feel trapped in my physical body.  Dreams provided that escape.  They still do.

So what about the ones where my mind is still trying to process issues?  Well, frankly, I’d rather my subconscious didn’t.  I prefer to have fun in my dreams, not work through stress using weird symbols.  I have to admit, though, Bethards’s dream analysis has been mostly correct.

Take, for example, the dream where a tree wrapped its branches around me and melded me into the trunk.  (It wasn’t nearly as creepy as it sounds writing about it.)  According to the Dream Book, a tree is a symbol of personal growth.  The roots represent the foundation/support.  Is it strong or shallow?  The trunk represents the backbone and strength.  Branches are talents and abilities; leaves are the manifestations of your gifts–the fruit of your life.  A scrawny tree means not recognizing your self-worth.  An old gnarled tree means “the storms of life have taken their toll.”

Now, according to the book, being a part of the tree “represents aliveness that can be molded or shaped into new form.”  Since I’m working on personal growth and trying to take care of myself, this makes sense.  Yet, my tree was old and gnarled.  So while I’m in a state of transformation, I am apparently at the same time not learning my lessons in order to prune my tree.  It seems somewhat paradoxical, but the mind is a complex place.

As fascinating as all this is, I’d still rather dream of warrior women and men cursed to be dragons, flying ships and sword fights.  And in case any of you are thinking those symbols can be decoded, I checked, they don’t fit.  They’re simply the muse unleashed.

What do you think about dream interpretation?  Have you tried it?  Do your dreams help you work things out?  Or are they a refuge from reality?  Have a weird one you want to share?  I love hearing from you!  I’ll have the dream book for another week if anyone wants me to look up a specific symbol for them.  🙂

Big Dreams

I was listening to some old CDs recently and came across “Baby Girl” by Sugarland.  I’m not a country music girl, but I love the story of this song.  Change the parts about singing to writing, and it’s pretty much my life right now.


I have big dreams for being a best-selling author.  Along with that, though, I have dreams of giving back to my mom after all the support she’s given me.  We don’t have a traditional mother/daughter relationship.  We’re best friends.  Even if there wasn’t a financial need, I think we would still live together.  I love hanging out with her.  We watch movies and TV together.  (We both even read books *while* we’re watching TV.)  The two of us go out to eat (I never go by myself).  We’re both known at our favorite restaurant, and the guy who usually serves us has our typical orders memorized.  We go to church together, and go on mini vacations to the beach or San Francisco together.

This probably would have been a good Mother’s Day post, but I wasn’t blogging at that time.  I love my mom, and I’m grateful for all the support she’s given me over the years in life, love, and writing.  Do I want my dreams of publishing to come true for me?  Most definitely.  But I also want them to come true for her.


In Tangled, Rapunzel’s dream was to see the floating lanterns.  After she made it, she knew she’d need to find a new dream (cough nudge handsome thief over there).  Life’s better with big dreams.  When you finally get everything you’ve been dreaming of, don’t settle.

What will my next big dream be?  When I was younger it was to buy a castle in Scotland.  Seriously though, I don’t know yet.  There are things I’d like to do, but they’re small at the moment.  Who knows, maybe when I need that new dream, those small things will blossom into huge, wonderful ideas.  The creative Muse is very out-spoken, after all.  😉

What are your big dreams?  What do you think you’ll do after you reach them?  For those of you who have had dreams come true, what were they, and what are your dreams now?

Update from the Muse: Lost in Space

I think perhaps my muse was kidnapped after all, and last night’s dream experience was some sort of telepathic SOS.  It wasn’t smurfs, it was…marauding, intergalactic slave traders? 0_o  Uh, sorry muse, I think you’ll have to find your own way home.

This dream was a bit confusing for me.  It committed the storytelling sin of having too many characters.  Not only that, but I wasn’t even a character in this escapade.  I was a disembodied ghost floating around watching everything unfold.  I guess I was the omnipotent narrator.

So the dream: A 6-yr-old boy is kidnapped by above-mentioned slave traders.  Even though they were on a regular ship, there was some weird sci-fi feel to it.  Poor kid is crying for his big sister, who is stuck on shore, to save him.  Teary moment as they sail away into the dark fog, completely separated.

And now they’re sailing in what I can only compare to Planet Earth’s deep underwater caves—except they’re not underwater, but they are surrounded by walls of rock.  It’s dark, and frankly just creepy.  It feels like a journey to an alien planet.  (Because where else would you take 6-yr-olds for slave labor?)

There’s a lot of sniveling and crying going on, and lots of harsh treatment by the scumbag pirates.

Now we’re back with the big sister (big as in 12 or 13).  She’s mounting a rescue, venturing deep into this unknown territory to find her brother (aw, how sweet).  Will she save him?  Will they make it home?  Wait, suddenly we’re 11 years into the future?  What happened?  You mean I *slept* through the best part of the story?  My muse says, “sorry, had to disconnect so the pirates wouldn’t catch me communicating with you.”  Um, right, hush-hush.

So now it’s 11 years later, and there are two boys (huh?).  They are teenagers, and have finally escaped whatever torment they’ve endured and made it all the way home to what greatly resembles a Star Trek space ship.  And if that’s not enough to confuse you, who is it making a guest appearance as these two heroic boys?  Zachery Ty Bryan and Johnathan Taylor Thomas from their Home Improvement days.  (whispers: Muse, did the pirates drug you?)

The two sit down and tell their miraculous story (which I missed, humph) to the commanders of the space ship.  (Is that Captain Picard?  It’s hard to tell because being a ghost gives everything a slight haze.)  It’s a happy ending for everybody—wait, what about the little boy and his sister?  What happened to them?  I have no idea.  Is he still awaiting rescue?  Does this mean my muse is a 6-yr-old boy?  I suppose that could explain my tendency to beat characters into bloody pulps…

I don’t know where my muse is, but it sounds like she (or he) is experiencing much more excitement than I am.  Maybe she’ll have plenty of stories to tell when she gets back.