In My Dreams I Hold a Knife is most rewarding in its final moments, as the murderer is revealed in a flashback rich with horrific imagery. However, before this scene the book felt weighed down by its nonlinear reveals and Jessica's melodramatic insecurities and romances. Winstead attempts to explain why her characters are so stuck in their worst traits, yet never reaches depth with them. This resulted in a repetitive, immature narrative and leading woman that I quickly grew tired of listening to. The other leading characters didn't grow on me the way they were intended to either. The only characters I really liked and rooted for and wanted to know more about were Frankie and Jack, who are shoved to the sidelines. The mystery itself did keep me engaged with the book, but I would only reccomend this title to those that love shallowly dramatic thrillers.