For university student Saoirse Donnelly, nightmares have always felt too real. She blames the trauma of witnessing her motherâs suicide a decade ago. Now she drifts through night shifts at a quiet cafĂ©, battling sleep paralysis and unsettling visionsâuntil a stranger with piercing emerald eyes appears just before closing.
"Sweet dreams, Saoirse," he whispers. But she never told him her name.
Soon after, a mysterious key leads her back to her familyâs abandoned estate. In the woods nearby, the mausoleum that has haunted her dreams since childhood hides the truth: her mother wasnât mentally ill, but fighting a centuries-old curse claiming the women of their bloodline.
Now Dearil Byrneâthe enigmatic strangerâstalks her waking life and invades her dreams, warning that sheâs becoming something neither fully alive nor dead. As the boundary between nightmare and reality unravels, Saoirse realizes her sleep paralysis is her spirit slipping into the Otherworldâand the transformation is already underway.
With Samhain nearing and the veil between realms thinning, Saoirse must return to the ancient stone circle where the curse began. But breaking a blood pact forged long ago will cost more than she imagined, and some curses demand sacrifice.
For university student Saoirse Donnelly, nightmares have always felt too real. She blames the trauma of witnessing her motherâs suicide a decade ago. Now she drifts through night shifts at a quiet cafĂ©, battling sleep paralysis and unsettling visionsâuntil a stranger with piercing emerald eyes appears just before closing.
"Sweet dreams, Saoirse," he whispers. But she never told him her name.
Soon after, a mysterious key leads her back to her familyâs abandoned estate. In the woods nearby, the mausoleum that has haunted her dreams since childhood hides the truth: her mother wasnât mentally ill, but fighting a centuries-old curse claiming the women of their bloodline.
Now Dearil Byrneâthe enigmatic strangerâstalks her waking life and invades her dreams, warning that sheâs becoming something neither fully alive nor dead. As the boundary between nightmare and reality unravels, Saoirse realizes her sleep paralysis is her spirit slipping into the Otherworldâand the transformation is already underway.
With Samhain nearing and the veil between realms thinning, Saoirse must return to the ancient stone circle where the curse began. But breaking a blood pact forged long ago will cost more than she imagined, and some curses demand sacrifice.
Drip, drip, drip... deep crimson blood contrasted starkly with the mellow browns of the freshly brewed cup of coffee still steaming under the spout of the $15,000 espresso machine. Saoirse (SEER-sha) blinked, hard, and the illusion shattered, dark drops transforming back into the rich, earthy tones of the fragrant brew.
She exhaled slowly, fingers clenching around the edge of the counter, grounding herself in the solidity of the polished wood beneath her palms. It wasn't real. Just another trick of her exhausted mind, a waking nightmare blurring the edges of her reality.
The visions worsened daily, seeping into her daylight hours like insidious poison. Fracturing her already tenuous grip on sanity, on the carefully constructed façade of normalcy she presented to the world.
She couldn't let them see, couldn't let the cracks show. Couldn't let anyone glimpse the broken, haunted girl beneath the practiced smiles and artfully applied concealer.
Saoirse took a deep breath, letting the familiar scents of The Owl's Nest wash over her - the rich aroma of roasted coffee beans, the warm vanilla of steamed milk, the buttery sweetness of freshly baked scones. This was real, this moment, this place. Not the phantom blood, the echoes of a trauma she could never quite escape.
She'd been so young when it happened, barely twelve, still all knobby knees and wide eyes. Still believing in the inherent goodness of the world, in the safety of a mother's embrace.
Until that illusion had shattered, irrevocably, in a spray of crimson and the glint of a razor's edge. Until her mother had...
No. She couldn't go there, not now. Not with the afternoon rush looming, students and professors alike clamoring for their caffeine fix. She had to keep it together, had to paste on her customer service smile and swallow down the rising tide of memory.
One breath, then another. Rinse the portafilter, tamp the grounds, lock it into the group head. Steam the milk, pour the shots, create latte art she'd practiced a thousand times. Muscle memory, rituals to keep her grounded, present.
She lost herself in the rhythm of it, in the press of bodies and the clatter of cups, in the mindless chatter and the blur of faces. Time slipped away, minutes bleeding into hours, until the line finally dwindled, the crowd thinning like a slowly receding tide.
Saoirse was just beginning to breathe easier, the tightness in her chest loosening fractionally, when a familiar voice cut through the hazy din.
"Seersh! There you are, my favorite brewer of overpriced bean juice!"
Cian (KEE-an). That lilting cadence, that irreverent humorâunmistakable anywhere. Her lips twitched, a ghost of a genuine smile.
He sidled up to the counter, all tousled russet hair and dancing blue eyes, an easy grin playing about his mouth. "You're looking particularly zombified today. Late night?"
Saoirse snorted, shaking her head as she began crafting his usual - a triple shot latte with a dash of cinnamon. "You know me, Cian. Regular party animal."
"I wish," he shot back, leaning an elbow on the counter and waggling his eyebrows suggestively. "All work and no play, Seersh. It's a crime against humanity."
She slid his drink across to him, arching a brow. "Pretty sure forcing my dubious social skills on the unsuspecting populace is the real crime."
Cian clutched at his heart dramatically. "You wound me. Those social skills are exactly what the pub quiz team is missing! C'mon, one night. I'll even buy the first round. It'll be absolutely gas, I promise."
"Your coffee skills are deadly," he added, taking an appreciative sip. "But your social life is in desperate need of resuscitation."
Tempting, maybe, in another life. A life where she wasn't constantly teetering on the brink of shattering, where the specter of her mother's ghost didn't dog her every step.
But in this life, in this reality, the mere thought of the crowded pub, the press of bodies and the clamor of voices, sent her anxiety skittering. She pasted on an apologetic smile.
"Can't tonight, sorry. You know how it is - papers to write, books to read, existential dread to wallow in."
Cian's face fell, but only for a moment before that irrepressible grin bounced back into place. "One of these days, Donnelly. One of these days, I'll drag you out of your cave."
He snagged a muffin from the display case, shooting her a jaunty salute before melting back into the thinning crowd. Saoirse watched him go, something tightening in her chest.
It must be nice, to move through the world so easily, to not be constantly haunted. To not see phantoms in every shadow, to not taste copper on your tongue every time you closed your eyes.
But that wasn't her reality. Hadn't been for a very long time. Not since that day, not since her mother...
The scent hit her then, cloying and thick. Lilies, funeral-sweet. Her mother's favorite.
No. It wasn't real. It couldn't be.
But there it was again, stronger now, winding around her, clogging her throat. And beneath it, the unmistakable metallic tang of blood.
Saoirse whirled, heartbeat thundering in her ears. The cafe swam before her eyes, edges blurring, colors bleeding.
And there, in the corner, a figure in white. Crimson curls, a delicate frame she'd know anywhere. Her mother turned, lips curving in a sad, secret smile.
"Saoirse," she breathed, barely a whisper. "Mo stĂłr." (muh STORE, meaning "my treasure")
And then, the glint of silver in her hand. The razor's edge, winking in the light.
Saoirse's scream lodged in her throat, choking her. She blinked, hard, willing the vision to dissipate, to shatter like all the others.
But when she opened her eyes, her mother was still there, still smiling that resigned, haunted smile.
The razor flashed, a swift, vicious arc. And the blood began to flow, a crimson waterfall, staining the white wool of her cardigan, pooling on the floor.
Saoirse stumbled back, bile rising in her throat. This wasn't real. It couldn't be real. But the scent of the lilies, the blood, the soft thud of her mother's body hitting the ground...
For a fleeting moment, she felt trapped in an episode of "The Haunting of Skibbereen House," that hit Irish supernatural series where the characters couldn't tell if they were in the real world or caught in the mirror realm. Except this wasn't streaming entertainmentâthis was her life unraveling in real time.
A hand clamped down on her shoulder, icy even through the fabric of her shirt. Saoirse whirled, a scream tearing free from her chest.
But it wasn't her mother's ghostly visage that greeted her. No, this face was angular, all sharp cheekbones and piercing eyes. A stranger, tall and lean, shoulders mantled in shadow.
His lips curved, a slow, unsettling smile. And when he spoke, his voice was a dark velvet murmur that sent chills skittering down her spine.
"Hello, Saoirse," he breathed. "I've been waiting for you."
What happens when your dreams feel too real, and your nightmares begin to bleed into the real world?
This is the reality for university student Saoirse Donnelly. Since witnessing her motherâs suicide at a young age, feeling numb and alone, she floats through night shifts at a cafĂ© and battles sleep paralysis and unsettling visions until a dark entity appears at the cafe promising answers.
A mysterious key leads her back to her familyâs abandoned estate. In the woods nearby, the mausoleum that has been haunting her dreams since childhood hides the truth about her bloodline.
As the boundary between nightmare and reality unravels, Saoirse realizes thereâs more to her sleep paralysis.
Sweet Dreams is a compelling story. The dark atmosphere of this novel brings forth strong emotions and allows the reader to deeply connect with the main character, Saoirse, who is suffering from an array of dark and heavy emotions. The depth of her thoughts and feelings keeps the reader engaged and forces the reader onto a roller coaster of emotions. The uncertainty of whatâs to come for the main character makes it difficult to pull away from the story, and therefore, chances are high that it will be read in one sitting. The story flows well; the pace at the beginning is slower, but as the story progresses, the pace quickens. The reader gets bits and pieces of information that elicit questions, but rest assured they are answered as the story progresses.
The story is engaging, focusing on a curse that has plagued Saoirseâs family for generations. Thereâs a lot of depth to this story as Saoirse discovers the meaning behind her mother's suicide. As the story progresses, Saoirse dips more deeply into a world between life and death where those who are denied entry to heaven and hell wreak havoc on women in her family. The discoveries she encounters along the way are intriguing and give a lot of depth to the story, and the more she discovers, the more intense her situation becomes. Again, this novel brings out a lot of emotion in the reader. The dynamic between Saoirse and the entity was compelling. However, the relationship between Saoirse and her friend, Cian, wasn't as strong; he didnât bring much to the story.
Overall, it was a great horror novel. The ending leaves the reader thinking. This a good recommendation for someone looking for a fast-paced horror with a haunting storyline.