The Many Worlds of K. A. Webb

There was something about how real the village felt that made it hard for Layla to believe she was dreaming, but that was the logical explanation. Yet, as she walked down the main street, the smells, the noises, the sensation of people brushing past her, made it feel as though she was actually there. None of her dreams before had been so full of sensation. The skirt she was wearing rubbed against her legs. The breeze that blew past her was full of scents she didn’t recognise. One of the woman who brushed past her had strands of hair that stroked over Layla’s shoulder. It was all too much for her to accept it was a dream, but there was no reason for it to be anything other than a dream. She remembered going to bed, and the sensation of slowly dozing off, before the found herself standing in the middle of what could only be a medieval village. Obviously she’d been watching too much of something.

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