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Decades ago, the CIA developed the technology to enter our dreams and extract information. It was just a matter of time before they took things a little too far...
“A spooky, imaginative novel that takes a universally-fascinating concept and turns it into a delirious adventure.”
~~ Isabela Morales, The Scattering
“Dream War is often gripping on a level that is visceral.”
“Comparisons to Michael Crichton are spot on.”
~~ Geoffrey Edwards, author of Fire Bell in the Night
“Fun, fast paced and original escapism!”
Dana Fredsti, author of Murder for Hire: The Peruvian Pigeon
“Strong characters, vivid descriptions, and the highest possible stakes. It's original in both plot and treatment.”
~~ Dale Cozort, author of Exchange
1980. Hector Lopez joins a CIA enterprise capable of entering dreams and extracting information. Lopez saves hundreds of hostages’ lives by dream-linking to terrorists and foiling their plans. When the Red Brigades, an Italian terrorist group, kidnaps a US General, Lopez and his team execute every technique available for extracting information—including one that links our world to a dimension never meant to be discovered.
Present Day. The Sogno di Guerra—a Red Brigades sect—plans the slaughter of millions. And they’ve the help of Luzveyn Dred, the entity ruling the dimension the CIA inadvertently opened a portal to—the Spatium Quartus.
Aided by an aging expatriate, a recovering alcoholic, and a mysterious girl, Lopez must overcome memories of past failures and defeat evil—in this world as well as in a dimension of nightmares.
Genre: Science Fiction
Secondary Genre: Thriller
Word Count: approximately 85,500 words
Page Count: approximately 252 pages
About the Author:
Stephen Prosapio received his Bachelors of Arts degree in Political Science from DePaul University in Chicago. Dream War was a top-five finalist of 2,676 entries in Gather.com’s 2007 First Chapters contest. Stephen resides in Oceanside, California.
downtown Chicago. Skyscraper shadows stretched out toward Lake Michigan on the autumn afternoon, as though reaching vainly for the distant shores on the other side. Known for its first thirty-six years as the Sears Tower, it had been the tallest building in the world. It was also home to the corporate offices of Sci-D TV. For the umpteenth time, Zach Kalusky brushed imaginary creases off his slacks and used his palms to press his jacket and tie—as though a wrinkle-free appearance would ensure a
Hyde appeared only mildly annoyed and, aside from his clothing, unruffled. “Well, Hector, you’re soon to be a former Marine. You’re coming to work for me.” Lopez took off his sunglasses. “What are you talking about?” Hyde picked up the top page of a thick file on the conference table. “'Based on his spotless performance reports and,’ I am quoting here Lieutenant, ‘an amazing ability to learn and communicate not only in Spanish, French and Italian, but also Russian, Arabic, Farsi, and Chinese,
REM sleep originates with the release of a chemical called acetylcholine. This brain-produced substance activates a region at the base of the brain called the pons. Latin for “bridge,” the pons transport signals to the brain’s frontal region called the thalamus, which in turn passes them along to the cerebral cortex for interpretation. These signals bombard the sleeping mind with images. Simply put, one part of the brain creates images, while the other attempts to decipher them. After his
that numerous studies have been conducted that show citizens of Naples frankly don’t give a damn. For generations families have lived in Vesuvius’s shadow. Most wouldn’t evacuate until it’s too late.” Lopez grunted. The flight attendant was making a beeline towards him not looking very happy. “Kat, we’re taking off. Get those pictures of Stanley over to Dr. Hyde, pronto.” He held up his index finger to the stewardess. She mouthed the word “NOW” with emphasis. “And tell your dad that I’ll call
across the aisle looked over. “Padre was more of a lover than a fighter. He believed that violence begat more violence.” Lopez felt a pang of guilt. Since the massacre of OIA, Lopez had run from conflict. He’d tried to save as many from the Spatium Quartus as he could, but he had no plan to defeat Luzveyn Dred. Fear had prevented him from developing more warriors to fight—fear of leadership, and fear of having to watch it again unravel. “So what kind of team did he assemble?” “He established