A Theory of Dreaming (A Study in Drowning, #2)

by Ava Reid

I may have been a girl when he came for me, but I am most assuredly a woman now. I had thought I might grow strength in my years, as an oak tree thickens and spreads its roots, but I feel in many respects weaker than I ever was before. If there is one great virtue of girlhood, it is the insulation of dreams. We are protected, as children, by our belief in the unreal. In moments of solitude I can turn back time and imagine myself as young again: my bare feet in the grass, a crown of white flowers and juniper berries in my hair. I can make myself believe in knights and heroes, in such sweet-voiced and pure-hearted saviors. I take refuge in these dreams. I dive eagerly into unreal waters. But when I return, dragged unwillingly to the shore like a mermaid in a net, I am bereft again. Womanhood has left me with no place to hide. —from the diaries of Angharad Myrddin, 199 AD

It’s writing like this that makes me love Ava Reid.