A Far-off Memory Is Like A Scattered Dream Novels & Stories

"When I saw Akira's face lying on the road with my eyes covered, I started to remember the same face and eyes standing in front of my car two years ago." My memory then returns to the incident two years ago. Where I had an accident on a night trip, I was already quite tired after a day of activities and then drove myself. In the silence and coldness of the night, I contemplate about the life I have lived. Without realizing it, I began to daydream and a man suddenly came, as if he wanted to cross. But strangely, right in the middle of the road he stopped. I panicked, so I should have hit the brakes instead of stepping on the gas. Realizing this without waiting anymore, I swerved to the point

I was unable to explain what I saw, but I hoped some way they would be able to destroy whatever creature that was. I couldn't remember the words the creature had told me. I knew it said something that made me scared, right before he pushed me, those words were floating around my mind, but I couldn't lay my hands on them, I couldn't remember. It was that same feeling of having a dream only to wake up and forget it all. Even if it's floating in your head and seem so close to your grasp, you still don't remember what the dream is about. It was annoying.

She was a memory—something rooted in a place within me that I hadn’t fully uncovered yet. A truth I hadn’t caught up to yet, like a puzzle piece that slipped just out of reach, teasing me with its presence while leaving me feeling incomplete. I sat up, trying to shake off the remnants of the dream, but the feeling lingered like a bittersweet fragrance, reminding me that some connections run deeper than we often realize.

He wanted to fall asleep but she couldn't. Pearl's mind was suddenly bombarded by a flood of memories, fragments of imagery and sound that seemed both familiar and foreign at the same time. It was like trying to grasp at smoke, the details always slipping through her fingers before she could fully register them. The images were mostly blurry and indistinct, as if she was viewing them through a glass that had been smeared with grease. She strained to recall more details, but it was as if the memories were just out of reach, taunting her with their elusive nature.

Then why can't you relate your dreams to the future? And I don't understand why you feel suffering when you have dreams. Anyone cannot be lost in this world until they have dreams. Just like the clouds cluttered in this lost sky, you have me to endure your dreams and a fainted image has been memorized in my view. "Amanda Parker, wake up I'm telling you this the last time." a fainted voice, engraved in my mind and before I could open my eyes. I had thousands of sprinkles of water on me. Like a splash in the midnight of the ocean, my thoughts were damped in the water.

And soon, I drift, surrendering to the pull of exhaustion. --- I’m plunged into a strange dream, but it feels more like a memory than anything else—a memory I’d tried so hard to bury. Jack’s face fills my mind, sharp and clear, his eyes blazing with determination. I’m not sure where we are; the forest around us is dense, filled with mist, but it’s alive with the sounds of a fierce battle. The scent of blood hangs heavy in the air.

something lingering at the back of my mind, just out of reach. The feeling is subtle, like the faintest whisper of a forgotten dream, but it’s persistent. It tugs at the edges of my consciousness, urging me to remember something important—something from the past that I can’t quite grasp. I try to shake it off, telling myself that it’s nothing, but the nagging feeling doesn’t go away. I inhale deeply, the scent of Mikhail fills my senses, but even that can’t block the quiet whisper that seems to echo inside me. It’s almost like a memory locked away, too far for me to reach, yet so close.

But even that seemed distant, as though it was someone else's memory. Everything else was a blur. The love for my friends—their faces flickered in and out of my mind like faded dreams. Sometimes, I saw them clearly, but other times, it was like I was stuck in the dark, unable to reach them, unable to make sense of anything. I didn't even know if I had truly died. I felt... lost. More than that—forgotten. The world felt so far away like I was being swallowed by the darkness. I could feel myself fading, slipping further and further from the world that once held me.

Deangelo. I woke up and saw the gentle sunlight streaming through the curtains. The dream I had just had slipped away, leaving me with a lingering feeling that something important had happened. I felt frustrated as I tried to remember the details, but they kept slipping away like puzzle pieces that didn't quite fit. I sat up in bed, the sheets gathered around me, and let my mind wander through the maze of my thoughts. Images flashed in my mind, like quick glimpses of a forgotten past, but they were elusive, slipping away before I could grasp them.

Antoine watched Camille, his eyes filled with concern and curiosity. Camille’s emotions surged, and tears began to roll down her cheeks, salty and bittersweet. How long had it been since she last remembered the scent of her mother’s lily of the valley? How long had it been since she felt the vibrant essence of fragrance, the subtle bond between scent and memory? 'Muse' didn’t just analyze the scent—it awakened a corner of her mind she thought lost forever. It allowed her to 'see' images again, to 'hear' sounds, and to feel the delicate stirrings of emotions she believed had disappeared for good.