The dreams were driving her mad -- or perhaps they were proof of her madness. They came without warning, not only during sleep, but whenever the glitter of a shiny surface caught her eye, whenever her hold on reality chanced to slip. She dared not tell her doctor or her university colleagues -- in the orderly, controlled world of the next century she'd be committed to a PSI ward for such an admission. It seemed the only way to sanity lay through the gates of the dream, and to help the Shamans from another future -- the old and gentle Kara, and the inhuman Lute. They promised to teach her mastery of her dream-rides through a mutlitude of futures and alternative pasts, but they did not tell her at what cost. . . .
(less)The dreams were driving her mad -- or perhaps they were proof of her madness. They came without warning, not only during sleep, but whenever the glitter of a shiny surface caught her eye, whenever her hold on reality chanced to slip.
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Dreamrider | 
