Books About Dreams Fiction Novels & Stories

"He doesn't seem like the type. He seems eager to please you. Maybe you've just never noticed, but he's been paying attention to you for a while." "Yvonne, I've been feeling really strange lately. I've been having dreams that don't seem to belong to me. I haven't experienced any of it, yet they appear in my dreams as if they were real. And him..." Nina looked at Wilfred, "I think I've seen him in my dreams." "What kind of dreams?" Yvonne asked. "I dreamt I was locked in a dark room," Nina recalled. "It was so dark and terrifying, like I'd been there forever. There was a boy with me, telling me stories to comfort me. When I tried to see him clearly, I woke up."

She would make millions. At night the universe bursts with vibrant bright colors. This world had two moons. It is hard to explain. It's all a dream, I think. I get so confused because it all seems so natural. I just showed up one night after one of my angels came and whisked me away. The brain does crazy things when damaged, and you can not distinguish fantasy from reality. I am not dead; however, I am stuck in a dream world. It is like that movie, the lion, the witch, and the wardrobe. When the kids show up in Narnia, everyone knows who they are. They call me AlexiAnna here. It's always nice to get a chance to be a whole new person.

Maybe I’d magically be teleported to that fantasy world in my dreams and leave this godforsaken reality. I walked towards where the fiction section was, avoiding the gaze of the few people I passed by, bowing my head so I could only see my black-colored chucks and the dirty gray tiled floor. I stopped by the fiction section and looked upon the rays of books aligned on the bookshelf. The end of the opposite side of where I was, was dimly lit and didn’t have the dark shady side I had experienced in my dream. I mean, what the hell was I to expect? That was in my dream, this is the reality I’m living in. I shook my head in utter stupidity at myself.

"What can I do for ye young man?" "I need this Fantasy book 'Legend of a Dark Morth' by VIC NOVELLA, I wanted to find out if it has been published" "Errr, I uhm.... Need to check my collection" The old book keeper, Dressed in a tick rain coat with Fluffy edges stood on his feet and slipped behind the desk to sit. Riffling through the long dark book and peeking at it through his spectacles. "I think the first published set has been exhausted and out of the market for the meantime, but I think I have few left over copies here" he uttered wetting the tip of his index finger with saliva.

I explained. If Della and I were to be mates and there were already issues with dreams so vivid and desperate, I'd be lying if I didn't feel the fear creeping into my throat. "I've heard of mates having synchronised dreams. It just doesn't happen often," Lilith said as she turned the page of a book she was reading.

Thursday Night God, I’m still trembling. My thighs are sore, my body aches deliciously, and my pussy… my pussy feels so fucking full, even hours later. I can smell him on me. I can feel the ghost of his cock stretching me. I have to write this down before the details fade, before the raw, filthy truth of it gets polished into some pretty memory. It wasn’t pretty. It was primal.

He ripped my thong aside and pushed two thick fingers deep inside me without warning. “You’ve been teasing me all night,” dream-Jax growled in my ear, voice low and rough. His fingers curled perfectly, stroking that spot that made my knees weak. “Now you’re going to take what you started, little sis.” I moaned loudly in the dream, gripping the counter as he finger-fucked me hard and fast. The wet sounds filled the kitchen. He bit my neck, then kissed me roughly, his tongue claiming my mouth while his fingers drove me closer and closer.

“I… I have these fantasies. Submissive ones, though. You know, like where I'm the one submitting. I dream about giving up any form of control I have over myself. About being told what to do. About being used… shared even. It makes me feel alive in ways I cannot explain. I know it sounds strange but it’s true." Silence fell for a moment. Only the rain filled the space. Then Lily smiled slowly. She leaned forward. "Emma. We have suspected for months. We've seen the way you blush when certain scenes come up in our book club readings. The way you get quiet and dreamy when we talk about power dynamics. We have been waiting for you to trust us enough to say it out loud."

Of course, it didn't help being in an all boys school where sex education, in those days, was all about basic biological facts dryly laid out in a text book (apart from of course the well thumbed copy of the Joy of Sex that was passed around amongst the older students. It wasn't until much later in life when I was browsing a second-hand bookstore that I first began to learn about the sub-culture (pun very much intended!) that had dominated those early wet dreams of mine. I happened to pick up an adult version of the story of sleeping beauty that was anything but an innocent! fairy tale As I read through the book I realised that these were my earliest erotic fantasies brought to life by a far

Just a sentence that arrived uninvited while I was reviewing grant proposals. Two people placed inside a design they did not choose, only to rewrite it. I closed the document in front of me and stared at that sentence in my mind. I had not written fiction in years. I had written essays, proposals, speeches, arguments sharp enough to cut glass. But fiction belonged to a younger version of me, one who believed stories could rescue people from themselves. Now I had lived one. I did not tell Dream immediately. Not because I wanted secrecy, but because I wanted clarity.