Books About Nightmares Novels & Stories

NIGHTMARES. A very bad or frightening dream. Anna was starting to lose count of the number of nightmares she’s been having since Josh’s death but whenever she woke up with one, clearing her head with a jog had been working well on her. She lets out a sigh as she turns sideways to stare at the mini alarm clock she had next to her bed. The time read 6:00 am and she hated the fact that she had to be awake at this early hour of the day.

He just holds me, his thumb drawing lazy circles against my back. Finally, Erden tilts my head up to met his eyes. “How long have you had these nightmares?” “Since Nyra disappeared,” I whisper. “No one knows except Dr. Michelle, and my therapist.” “What do you see?” I've never spoken about my nightmare with anyone, not even Cade. After two nights when I kept kicking and couldn't sleep, Cade moved his things to another room, only visiting my room for sex on some nights. But Nyra only appeared when I am stressed, or emotional, and she has been coming a lot lately.

My mind was locked. I had tried to see therapists in recent years and tried unlocking my memories and even attempted hypnosis but it had back fired. HARD. The nightmares began to plague me then. Vivid and horrid. I heard screaming, tearing of flesh, breaking of bones. Some nights I would see blood sipping through the walls. Other nights it would the fire that almost swallowed me whole. It had been as if my brain was warning me away. Telling me I did not want to see what was in the dark. I had wanted to be brave but even I had been too afraid. I needed to make them stop. They were affecting my relationship with Abel, my efficiency at my work. It had all been too much for me.

He just didn't want to see it. Now, on the forty-first night, the nightmare is worse than ever. His face is turning pale. His lips are blue. In his dream, he is drowning. I can feel it—the terror radiating from his small body like heat from a furnace. His heartbeat is a drum. His breath is a thread about to snap. I want to help him. I want to wake him up. I want to flip him over. But the blanket is pulled tight. And the rule is absolute.

Damien could read her mind so what if he's aware? She shut her eyes and tried to drift to sleep. Barely thirty minutes into her sleep, she heard loud howls. Like a group of wolves were being attacked or howling out for signal. The noise came out in loud repititions and she shut her ears hard with her palms and shut her eyes tight too. Garwin had ensured he'd give them a brutal death. She refused to think to that direction. “I forgot to tell you that we werewolves can be rebirthed. I'll be back for you fuckmate.” She heard Damien's voice inside her head and screamed loudly.

“Not tonight.” I left the leather volume on the worktable and practically fled to my bedroom. The sheets were cool when I crawled beneath them, still wearing my oversized sweater and lounge shorts. I pulled the covers up to my chin, closed my eyes, and willed myself to sleep. I’ll read more in the morning, I told myself. When the strange feeling is gone. When Stan’s angry words aren’t still ringing in my ears. Sleep came faster than expected, pulling me under like warm, scented oil.

Amber was getting ready for bed in one of the guest rooms and thinking about the plans for tomorrow. She knew this could be very dangerous, and they were going in this will be very little information about the Zombies that have now sprung about. She wondered when these poor people were turned to Zombies if they remembered their past or if they were a new slate, over run with the infection that had created them. She felt tired and wanted to lay down. The thought of sleep would be nice. However, the dream that may and most likely would come would make it be a less restful night. She only needed about 6 hours to really feel right with the world, but that was not guaranteed.

I couldn't shake the image of Kaiden from my mind, and it felt like he was still haunting me, even in my dreams. I tried to distract myself, picking up a book and trying to read, but my mind kept drifting back to the nightmare. I felt trapped and alone like there was no escape from the fear that was gripping me. As the night wore on, I started to feel more and more exhausted. But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't seem to shake off the feeling of fear and anxiety that had taken hold of me. Eventually, I decided to reach out to a friend, hoping that they could help me calm down and feel safe. I told them about my nightmare and how it had left me feeling scared and alone.

She was never going to surrender to him; he bought her, but he couldn't buy her life. She was going to make sure she made his life a living nightmare. She was going to make him regret ever buying her and let her go. Yes, he was going to release her himself when he got tired of her. She grinned; he didn't know what he bought. He had just purchased a nightmare, and that nightmare was hers.

It would be better if I didn’t let myself fall too hard. I stumble downstairs, my legs unsteady. I only remember the edges of my nightmare, bits and pieces, the smallest flashes. Mostly I remember the emotions. Fear. A great deal of fear. I started having nightmares when I was 13. I don’t remember my dreams much before that moment, only that around that time I started waking up nightly screaming and sweating, unable to tell up from down. My mom took me to a series of different psychologists. Some told me it was “all in my head.” Others claimed I might have a nervous condition brought on by the death of my father 5 years before. All I know is that every night in my dreams I’d die. Sometimes