I Had That Same Dream Again

I’ll admit, I went into *I Had That Same Dream Again* expecting something bleak—but what I got was bleak *and* beautiful, in the way a winter sunset can be. Phoebe Strole’s narration is the star here. She doesn’t *perform* the characters so much as she *inhabits* them, especially the teenage protagonist, whose voice wavers between numbness and raw, sudden anger. There’s a scene early on where the girl describes self-harm not as pain but as ‘proof,’ and Strole’s delivery is so understated it made my chest tighten. That’s the magic of this audiobook: it doesn’t shout, but it *aches*. The story’s fragmented timeline could frustrate listeners who prefer linear plots—it jumps between past and present, dream and reality, sometimes without clear signposts. A few transitions felt abrupt even on a relisten, though that might be intentional; Sumino seems to trust the audience to sit with discomfort. My other critique? The elderly woman’s sections, while poignant, occasionally drag compared to the tighter, more urgent arcs of the younger characters. But the payoff—when all three narratives collide—is worth the patience. The production is flawless: no distracting background noise, no overdone sound effects, just Strole’s voice and Sumino’s words, creating a space that feels intimate, almost sacred. If you’ve ever loved a book that made you feel *seen* in your messiest moments, this one will carve out a place in your ribs and stay there.