TITLE: The Dreamers
GENRE: Women's Fiction
Wilhelmina Grant was still waiting for a sign. Not some comet or solar eclipse, just an everyday omen to point her in the right direction. It was long overdue. Had she missed it? The dreams that drew Willa to San Francisco years ago had faded into fog. Meanwhile, her days rolled out like a bolt of beige flannelpractical, predictable and drowsy. She tried taking scissors to the blandness, but could never bring herself to cut.
The costume shop where Willa worked sat on the end of the pier in an old cement structure that had once been a morgue. The building had served many purposes since then, but there was still something odd about the place. In spite of its history, ghosts were not the problem. In fact, it was the opposite. Instead of holding on to consciousness, the building helped it drift away.
At first, Willa enjoyed drifting. It was a shortcut to creativity: floating mind above body, like olive oil on vinegar. But lately it was harder to get the two mixed again. More and more her thoughts preferred to float. And after years of holding on in this slippery spot, she was starting to lose her grip.
Ow! The needle jabbed deep, leaving a glistening red bead on the pad of her thumb. It was the second strange occurrence of the morning. First the button dropped right off her leather jacket and now this. She hadnt pricked her thumb in yearsyears and years.