Lucid

Gideon lowers his eye to the telescope lens, turns a dial, sees, collapses. Awakes concussed and rushes to the city square to announce his discovery: massive structures on another planet. Impossible without intelligence. He is burned at the stake for heresy.

Will Lark is losing his mind. He’s obsessed with a door on a roof of the apartment building next to his in San Francisco, thinks he’s being followed, thinks the moon is swollen and likely to drop out of the sky. His dreams have been menacing and arguably prophetic. When his stalker confronts him and tells him to go to the door, he’s thrown into a mystery that crosses worlds and truly threatens his sanity.

Lucid is about light and dark and the connection between all things. It’s about the pain that comes with severing that connection. It’s about consciousness and time and how they are fluid. It’s a love story and a war story. It’s a harrowing, physical, psycho-spiritual, interplanetary drama.