In a world where everything is taken from you, dreams have the power to
heal…
Tyra Blair’s world is broken when the beasts attack. Forced to flee her beloved
homeland in the land of Azure, suddenly she and her family are outsiders in a
fractured existence she doesn’t recognize.
As her parents struggle to reconcile their fate in the wicked gloomy village of
Marigold, and later in their grim reality of Moonvine, Tyra’s disconnection from
everything familiar and those she loves threatens to devastate her completely.
Only a mysterious encounter with an intelligent squirrel offers Tyra a glimmer of
hope. He gifts her with a refuge from her isolation and introduces her to a
magical world. But as Tyra grows, so does her ability to enter these hidden
realms, and she must learn to navigate adulthood alone.
On her journey of self-discovery, Tyra’s lucid dreams become the bridge to inner
transformation, helping her to face her shadow and find the truth in her
invisibility. But will the magic that exists within her give her the strength to heal
and finally return home?
Exploring family bonds, generational trauma, and self-discovery, it’s perfect for lovers of character-driven narratives and immersive literary storytelling.
In a world where everything is taken from you, dreams have the power to
heal…
Tyra Blair’s world is broken when the beasts attack. Forced to flee her beloved
homeland in the land of Azure, suddenly she and her family are outsiders in a
fractured existence she doesn’t recognize.
As her parents struggle to reconcile their fate in the wicked gloomy village of
Marigold, and later in their grim reality of Moonvine, Tyra’s disconnection from
everything familiar and those she loves threatens to devastate her completely.
Only a mysterious encounter with an intelligent squirrel offers Tyra a glimmer of
hope. He gifts her with a refuge from her isolation and introduces her to a
magical world. But as Tyra grows, so does her ability to enter these hidden
realms, and she must learn to navigate adulthood alone.
On her journey of self-discovery, Tyra’s lucid dreams become the bridge to inner
transformation, helping her to face her shadow and find the truth in her
invisibility. But will the magic that exists within her give her the strength to heal
and finally return home?
Exploring family bonds, generational trauma, and self-discovery, it’s perfect for lovers of character-driven narratives and immersive literary storytelling.
“No man is an island,
Entire of itself;
Every man is a piece of the continent,
A part of the main.”
– John Donne
The barn was a dark, gloomy place. It was converted into a tiny house in a rush. Grey and musty, peeling walls had abandoned hope ages ago. The wood was soft, almost spongy. The windows were hazy, flimsy, and covered with mud.
When Tyra’s mom found a job at a local grocery store, they offered her this crumbling shack where cows and chickens had lived only a month before. There was no hot water, no bathroom. Nettle bushes surrounded a timeworn outhouse, squeezed in behind the barn. Every trip to the toilet was painful, especially at night.
Why hadn’t her parents removed the bushes? Probably for the same reason everything else happened; they were grieving.
They were grieving for their lost life in their homeland, the city of Moss, surrounded by green mountains, untamed forest, and an opal river. They missed their family and friends, their cozy neighbourhood with eclectic, artistic balconies. They missed the colourful, cheerful markets with delicious goods of all kinds, the kind where they got to meet people and connect.
Moss was a place filled with joy, divine food, and, above all, the aroma and colour of life itself. Tyra recalled the smell of juicy tomatoes from a local farmer’s market reaching out to her nostrils, which were curious and full of life. Whenever she held them in her hands, she would close her eyes and unleash a carefree, childish smile. She would inhale deeply, slowly. The smell of fresh, earthy tomatoes revived memories of pure happiness. Everything else lost its importance at such moments, taking away the weight of day-to-day struggles for a moment. Life is all about such moments.
Moss was the only happy place in the cheerless parallel world of Azure. Those who strived for a better life in the realm of isolation had created an oasis of hope a long time ago. They shared mutual values of freedom, community, and collective responsibility. Integrity. Dignity. Such fine places create a sense of belonging, safety and warmth.
The people of Moss were cordial and joyful, as all carefree beings are. It wasn’t uncommon to greet someone multiple times a day with a broad smile, reflecting normally sunny weather and the human need for connection. Nor was it unusual to hear the doorbell ring when they shared a nice Saturday evening as a family in their cozy living room. The doorbell usually indicated the arrival of a neighbour with a fresh homemade dish or cookies, smelling delicious, still warm and steaming. Such moments were precious, filled with life and kinship, the safety of childhood, and simple joys.
The realm of Azure was similar to yours, Terra, a non-magical world on planet Earth with rapidly evolving technology, a social media madhouse, and countless social issues.
The people of Azure were rational beings. They never believed in magic, but they knew a lot about darkness. Pandemics, wars between different continents based on religious prejudices or controversial, outdated, and irrelevant historical facts. Fluctuations in the real estate market, inflation, terrorism, corruption. Such a mad world.
The realm of Azure was far less polluted than Terra, and for a simple reason: they didn’t produce much. They traded their rich natural resources of precious stones with Terra’s massive production in every possible area. Even their books and art were mainly borrowed. And they spoke only one language—English. Centuries ago, multiple ethnic groups had merged into one colourful culture, except for faith. Faith came in various forms and provoked chaos across the realm.
***
The village of Marigold was beautiful. Nestled in the middle of a massive greenbelt, it was characterized by well-groomed streets and bleak, identical cottages.
But the villagers were wicked, and Tyra’s new home was inanimate.
Her parents, disconnected from their home, coped in different ways. Her mother, Scarlett, fell into depression. Logan, Tyra’s father, started drinking.
Did they long to turn the wheel of time and return to things as they were, far away from that wild place, so cold and indifferent in its cruelty? Were they lost?
No doubt. But the wicked village in the middle of nowhere was their only escape from war. It was called “a special operation” that emerged due to a conflict of interest between the citizens of Moss and their neighbours across the river. But it felt like war in terms of its destruction and terror.
Not all the people were evil. Many remained kind, good people who were enduring hard times. Both sides were simply human. Some were wicked, some were kind, and some were neither.
The aggressors invaded and claimed Moss as their ancient heritage. They refused to coexist in harmony or share the land. They attempted to enforce their religious values and murdered those who opposed them. Their primary goal was to destroy the roots of those who rebelled against them.
The most terrifying part of this lunacy was that their leaders were still human.
However, in their familiar physical form, they hid the real insanity—lack of empathy.
The leaders enlisted monstrous creatures, the beasts, who inhabited the dense woods across the city. They were lanky, bald, humanoid figures with slick grey skin. Their round eyes were empty, their lips narrow and tight. They had reptilian ears and wore filthy silver cloaks. The beasts lived in isolated clans across the realm. It was unknown where they came from, but their ruthlessness was unquestionable.
In Tyra’s nightmares, their bodies looked like rotten, smearing masses. They had no heart, not anymore. Amorphous, legless creatures, shapeless beasts walking inches above the ground’s surface. Their brains looked inflamed, fogged by a thick black cloud and bathed in the sickest idea—the idea of one belief, one philosophical and political structure for all.
Many speculated on how to kill the beasts. If only they knew that the darkness itself could not be destroyed. That or another sort of pure evilness would always be seeking a way to get into people’s heads to make them cooperate if people let it.
***
The beasts and the villagers of Marigold were plagued by different types of cruelty on the scale of madness. The first kind was the ultimate fall into complete darkness with no escape because they became the darkness itself. The type where evil was hiding and waiting for an opportunity to strike.
The people of Moss knew the beasts existed among them and now lived outside their society, banished into the woods a long time ago. They lived in poverty and hardship, in the most difficult circumstances, even for the obscure creatures they were, neither human nor animal. Excluded, they became even more bitter across the centuries. They watched their more fortunate neighbours from the highest trees with rage and hunger. As they watched them thrive, the beasts were filled with rivalry and jealousy. Seeing the outer world constantly changing, ever flourishing, they craved a change in their ever-still, ever-gloomy kingdom without a king.
The people of Moss knew these creatures existed, but they tried to silence their fears with blissful festivals and delicious gifts from neighbour to neighbour. They tried to hide this undeniable fact with the sound of kids’ laughter, the aroma of baked goods, and merry holidays. They became busier and busier in an almost ecstatic attempt to hush the distant whisper of truth. The truth that could barely reach their conscious minds anymore.
When the leaders enlisted the beasts, chaos arose. Suppressed forces went wild. Those were challenging times, filled with terror and death. Violence spread through the once-peaceful streets, sneaking into people’s homes and hearts.
The safe, friendly bubble full of joyful people and peaceful lives, nice neighbours and good intentions, collapsed as if it had never existed, leaving no room for “happily ever after.” Brotherhood. Union of all species. Friendliness. Home. Prosperity. Harmony. All such things were gone, smashed by the beasts who attacked unexpectedly, or so people believed.
Perhaps it was easier to dismiss the early signs of catastrophic events.
Tyra’s last memories before the escape remained forgotten for a long time. Once they resurfaced, she couldn’t push them back into the shadows.
***
Tyra was ten years old when the beasts struck. Her parents and her maternal aunt, Olivia, gathered at Tyra’s grandparents’ cottage. Tyra was sitting on the floor, gripping her head with her little hands. She pushed her head down as if it would protect her from harm. Her face was frozen in tension, petrified. Panicking adults surrounded her, muttering non-stop. Tyra felt an urge to go to the bathroom. Guns were shooting outside. Chaos was everywhere. Somebody said she had to crawl. Otherwise, she might die. So, Tyra crawled. Her heart echoed in her ears as if it were trying to escape the madness. Primeval fear took over as the sound of gunshots spun in her head, but she couldn’t scream. Silence was crucial. Silence was hope. Is there even hope? Tyra wondered.
The adults babbled in hushed, anxious whispers about one of the savage gangs, known for its heartless cruelty, that was approaching their building. Normally, they would enter each home, bringing raw horror and traumatic death to destroy human nature at its core, to crush beating hearts with their unimaginable malice.
The adults lost it. They failed to cope, broken. They forgot about Tyra, shaking in the dark corner, so lonely and scared. As they chatted in muted whispers, they weren’t individuals anymore but only a mass, a crowd, scared to their bones.
By that point, Tyra was well informed about the horrors that awaited once those creatures entered the building. She knew in detail how each of them would die, step by step. First, the beasts would burst in with loud, bestial excitement. Their wild, empty, shadowed eyes would glow red with an evil smirk. They would kill each adult with inconceivable atrocity in front of their children. Or they would torture them all with the most demonic actions first and then murder them. The bullets would whizz; dust and paint flakes would rain down. Walls and toys would turn red.
That was what had happened in other communities that dared to protest.
Kids screamed and begged for death. “End it now! Kill me, kill me, kill me!” But their voices were lost in their attackers’ diabolical laughter.
The beasts danced and shouted, celebrated and rejoiced. They moved proudly through endless bodies. Infants, kids, and their caregivers—all massacred with such incomprehensible malevolence that their minds exploded, and their souls evaporated. Nothing was left, only burnt and mangled bodies, hugging each other. Broken spirits of once-happy beings.
In those walls, nothing remained except silent emptiness and bloody madness—until she came in. Death entered with grace and kindness. She gathered those wounded fragments of human souls, healed them, and made them whole again. No pain or sadness, only relief.
The monsters aimed to destroy the essence of humanity by disintegrating every soul, crushing it with unthinkable cruelty. But they couldn’t destroy something they didn’t have. Not entirely, and not for eternity.
Death never came for the bodies. She brought a gift of love and compassion. She brought comfort and alleviation when there was no more life left. She restored, integrated, and returned them to nature for another circle of life.
***
When Tyra returned from this endless journey to the bathroom, she heard a burst of relief and exaltation.
“You won’t find any rebels here,” a neighbour yelled out the window. “Move along. We’ve already accepted your terms as a community.” She had put her own life and the lives of her children at risk to save others.
The beasts moved along, and Tyra couldn’t help but wonder, where?
It hurt. Fear and guilt, a wily combination.
Two silent killers. Soul eaters.
That period was about pure survival. Adults took turns sneaking out for groceries while others waited in terror for them to return home, safe and sound. The streets were dangerous, the markets even more so. Online services had been cancelled, but the need to eat remained.
Their good, cordial neighbours had split. Some stuck to their values, others to their fears. It was painful and sad. The cracks in the once-unified communities were unbearable. Their little paradise had been destroyed, and there was no way back, only out. So, they moved far away to a different kind of darkness, rotting from the inside.
“In each of us, there is another whom we do not know.”
– Carl Jung
Spoilers: N.Z. Kaminksy’s novel A Sense of Home: The Land of The Great Lakes lives up to its name. Once you open this beautiful lyrical book and fall into this bildungsroman of a young girl experiencing an ethereal evocative world of lucid dreams, creativity, and imagination you will feel like you are coming home.
Tyra Blair lived in the city of Moss in the parallel world of Azure. It is much like our Earth with similar history, pop culture, and problems. One of those problems is war. When soldiers and their trained beasts attack Moss, Tyra and her family are forced go into hiding in the town of Marigold which is beautiful but the people there are cold and unpleasant. In exile, Tyra's parents implode as her mother Scarlett becomes depressed and her father Logan retreats into alcohol. Tyra is forced to become self-reliant while dealing with trauma, nightmares, and aching loneliness. She can only find comfort in books and nature.
One day, she meets Koda a friendly squirrel. He guides her to a mirror where she can visit her favorite books and stories. This experience opens up a brighter lucid dream world. Her lucid dreams appear throughout her life as she grows and deals with many personal issues of loss, fighting parents, unemployment, unsatisfying romances, separation, war, tyranny, and death. These lucid dreams help her survive and dream of the day when she will leave it to join The Land of The Great Lakes. Not Minnesota, it is a fabled land of thought, imagination, and beauty that can only be reached by invitation.
This book is one that grabs Readers's attention and holds on causing them to remember the little details long after they are doing, particularly Tyra's lucid dreams. They are definitely the highlights of this book.
Tyra and Koda’s trips into books delight any bookworm. The dui Lady Death trying to con her godson doctor into letting her kill his patient. A man confronts and is ultimately consumed by his Shadow Self..Grandfather Frost warms an abandoned maiden and many more. Through these experiences, Tyra is immersed into worlds of imagination, courage, adventure, and escape. The characters aren't content to wallow in loss and self pity like her parents. Instead, they persevere and fight with strength, cleverness, and kindness. In doing so, they challenge the status quo and reshape the world. Through them, Tyra is inspired to find ways to reshape hers.
The book journeys aren't the only situations that Tyra's lucid dreams conjure up. She is able to befriend fantastic creatures like a pair of adorable furry monsters who would not be out of place in a Muppet special. She communicates with the deceased who send her wisdom that they were unable to when they were alive. They offer guidance on her path through signs, riddles, and visions. Her dreams not only provide an escape from a troublesome existence but gives her the means to survive it and aspire towards a greater path.
The best book to compare A Sense of Home to is another one that I recently read, The Art of Agony by Amy Felix. They are both coming of age stories about young women exploring the inner depths of their minds to survive during dismal dark times but the executions are polar opposites.
The Art of Agony is about Eva, the protagonist becoming aware that the world is a dark meaningless place, even her own mind can't be trusted, and no one cares about how she feels. In A Sense of Home, Tyra's mind is opened to more enlightened possibilities. She sees a world beyond the one in which she lives that gives her a sense of purpose and more meaningful existence.
While The Art of Agony is a more cerebral introspective perspective, A Sense of Home is a fuller, more evocative, ethereal, and a more intelligent perspective. It is one thing to come to the realization that life is hard and everything is stacked against you, but it is another to admit that but to find some meaning, purpose, and value in it anyway. That's why in some ways A Sense of Home is more mature than The Art of Agony which while excellent in exploring angst and the source of it, can also be lost in, overwhelmed by, and consumed by that same angst. Why bother doing anything at all if nothing matters? Why bother writing about it?
A Sense of Home tells us that what we dream about, long for, hope for, create, inspire, love, and bring to life is enough of a reason. If we are only a spark in this vastness in the universe, then we might as well find something that isn't harmful and gives us contentment and some kind of pleasure
about being alive.