There are people who collect coins, baseball cards, flashlights. They trade and sell them at conventions, flea markets, antique malls. Those are not the people Nadine and Normal (a.k.a. The Collector) serve, and those places are not where you’ll find them. Their quests have led them to decidedly less familiar characters and locales: a music obsessive who gives a little more than fandom—and takes a little more than music—from the artists he loves; a bouquiniste stall along the Left Bank of the Seine that has remained locked—for good reason—for 150 years; a box full of View-Master reels showing tiny photographs of places—some of which don’t exist; a former Nazi-in-training, haunted—to the point of life-crippling paralysis—by a taste. But now, Nadine lives sequestered in the Northern California woods, caring for the Collector, who has slid into early-onset dementia. One day, against her better judgment, she accepts an interview request from a young journalist. Who might not be a journalist. He has come for their stories. Or maybe for something else. Meanwhile, down the coast, in the cities, a wildness has gotten loose, and the world is tilting out of true, and the boundaries between reality and dream are not just blurring but melting. But is that for better or worse? And who gets to say? Welcome to Infinity Dreams, a novel-in-stories about dreaming your life, and living in dreams, and the permeable limbo we insist on calling reality.