My Dream Woman

By C H Clepitt

When your dreams are real there's nowhere to escape!

Andi is just holding it together. Working two jobs means she doesn't need to rely on anyone, but doesn't have much of a life. In her dreams, however, she is a hero: battling monsters and saving innocents. When her dream woman turns out to be very real, Andi's life begins to spiral out of control.

Step into an exciting urban fantasy that will have you on the edge of your seat. Think The Book of Abisan, only sexier!

• Language: English
• Publisher: C H Clepitt
• Release date: Oct 15, 2018
• ISBN: 9780463387382

C H Clepitt

C H Clepitt has a Master’s Degree in English Literature from the University of the West of England. As their Bachelor’s Degree was in Drama, and their Master’s Dissertation focused on little known 18th Century playwright Susannah Centlivre, Clepitt’s novels are extremely dialogue driven, and it has often been observed that they would translate well to the screen.Since graduating in 2007, Clepitt gained experience in community and music journalism, before establishing satirical news website, Newsnibbles in 2010. In 2011 they published A Reason to Stay, which follows the adventures of disillusioned retail manager, Stephen, as he is thrust into village life and the world of AmDram. Clepitt’s feminist fantasy, The Book of Abisan not only crosses worlds, but confuses genres, and has been described as a crime drama with magic.Not liking labels, Clepitt has often said they don't like the way that choosing a genre forces you to put your book into a specific little box, and instead prefers to distort the readers’ expectations and keep them guessing.Most recently Clepitt's Magic Mirror collection does just that, retelling classic fairy tales as a combination of historical fiction, magical fantasy, espionage and crime drama, all with a queer twist!

Book preview

My Dream Woman

Book One In the Guild Of Dream Warriors Series

A Novella by C H Clepitt

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Smashwords Edition

Copyright Claire Evans 2018

This is a work of fiction.  All events, characters and locations are products of the author’s imagination.  Any resemblance to persons, living or deceased, actual places of business or residence, or actual events is purely coincidental.

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Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

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Prologue

It always goes the same.  Well, not exactly the same.  Usually the people are different, and the places change.  Mostly it’s people I know, sometimes it’s people I’ve seen on TV.  Sometimes, I’ve no idea. If I had a therapist they’d tell me I have a hero complex, or some other shit.  But who can afford a therapist? Hell, I work two jobs and can hardly afford my rent!

Anyway.  Here’s how it went down last night.  It’s how it goes down most every night, but with slight differences.  Starts normal. Always starts normal, like my brain is teasing me into thinking it might be a normal night.  I guess it is normal, for me. Last night I was in work. I work in a bar. I was pouring a pint for a faceless man.  It seemed totally normal that he had no face, you know? Like, hell, who needs a face these days? Seemed normal to me, anyway.  There was a boy sitting in the corner of the bar. He stood out to me for a couple of reasons. First, because he was the only person in the bar to actually have a face, and second, because he was like, I dunno, ten?  And it’s a bar, we tend not to let ten year olds in. I found myself watching him. If it had been real, you know, like, actually work, I would have gone over and asked him where his parents were, or if he was OK. But I was rooted, so I stood, watching him, until the monster arrived.  It’s always a frickin’ monster, you know? Just once I’d like it to be puppies.

That’s when I moved.  I was over the bar like a ninja and between the boy and the monster.  

As soon as this happens I am in complete control.  Every time. It’s like my brain senses the danger and everything becomes lucid.  I have swords. Two swords. Don’t judge me, swords rock! Way cooler than guns, and I’m a martial arts expert.  I twirl them theatrically, turning to wink at the boy.

Don’t worry, I say. This won’t take long. It’s the sort of cool thing heroes say, and he grins at me.  He can see how cool I am right now. But that’s where this one changes. Two loud shots ring out from behind the monster.  It starts, and turns, advancing on the noise. Two more shots and it staggers backwards towards me. When it’s close enough I decapitate it.

Swords? Really? The woman standing over the body, pointing two smoking guns, looks disapprovingly at me.  Not only does she have a face, but it is an incredibly attractive face. Amazing, sparkling brown eyes, full lips… way out of my league.  Normally. But not here, this is my place, I can control it.

Swords are way cooler than guns, I say firmly as I resheath them, crossed across my back.  Takes no skill to pull a trigger. I’m like a frickin’ ninja.

Yeah, OK, she rolls her eyes and puts her guns back in their holsters.  Hey, she looks beyond me to the boy. Let’s find you somewhere more fun to be, shall we?  Pubs suck.

He looks at her, and stands up, but he slips his hand into mine.  Will you come? He asks.

Sure, I grin at him.  See, I look triumphantly at the woman. Swords are cool.

If you say so, she turns and heads out of the pub.  We follow. I’m still not sure why, it just seems natural.

So, she says chattily to the boy.  By this point I’d have found him a unicorn or something and dumped him, but we’re walking through a field.  What do you want to do now the monster’s gone?

Eat ice-cream, he says decidedly, as though she shouldn’t have needed to ask.  

Good call, she says, and an ice-cream van appears at the edge of the field.

He releases my hand and runs to it, disappearing into a  blur of distance. She turns to me smiling.

Reckon we have a couple of hours to kill, she observes.  There is something in her voice. Like she’s daring me. Wanna help me fill them?

I smile.  I know what’s coming next, it’s inevitable, somehow.  I take her hands and pull her in, kissing her. It feels so real, her touch, her scent, she’s solid.  I can smell and taste her. That’s when I wake up.

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Chapter 1: The Wedding

I hate weddings.  I know everyone says that, but I really do.  I’m not bitter because I’m single. I like being single.  No-one to answer to, I eat when I want, sleep when I want, wear what I want. What I don’t like is the judgement I get for being single.  Weddings inevitably involve seeing family members you’d rather just avoid, and for me it’s the way they look at me like ‘what went wrong there?’

I hate wearing dresses.  I feel like a man in drag when I put on a dress, only considerably less fabulous...  I can’t sit how I want, walk how I want, and I’m not me. There’s some sort of expectation when you’re at a wedding that you have to wear a dress, at least if you’re seen as female.  To be fair to Tom, though, he has found me an out this time. I’m best man. As such, I get to wear a nice suit. It’s black, with a grey shirt and black tie. My hair is pulled back in a bun, I have a nice white rose in my buttonhole, and feel every bit myself.  I am choosing to ignore my mother’s eyes boring into the back of my head. I know I’m in for it the second she can get me somewhere where it won’t make a scene.

Of course, being best man means I have to make a speech.   Standing up in front of people is like my worst nightmare. Except, if it was a nightmare, I’d take control and kick its arse.  I’m not afraid of dreams, it’s the awake time that worries me.

So, I’m standing next to Tom, clinging to my drink in the hope I will absorb the alcohol through the pores in the glass (spoiler: there are no pores in the glass).  I’m staring firmly at the table. I take a deep breath. I’m keeping it short, so attention can divert immediately from me.

When we were kids, Tom was always the one who said it was OK to be me, I begin awkwardly.  He loved who I was unconditionally, and supported me in whatever I was doing. I take a breath, followed by a drink, then continue.  I often stole his clothes to go out in, and he never once turned me in! I smile awkwardly at him.