Daydream Stories Novels & Stories

The young Dreamer looked embarrassed. “Nothing.” The boy glanced at the little stars in the sand. “They don't look like nothing.” The Dreamer hesitated. Then he whispered: “I think they're stories.” The boy smiled wider. “Then tell me one.” The memory ended. Ama gasped. The quiet voice beyond the door spoke again. He always wanted someone to listen. The First Dreamer finally answered. And you always wanted one more story. A strange warmth passed between the two voices. Not anger.

As Anna rode the elevator to the fifth floor, she couldn’t help but feel like she was suspended in a dream, disconnected from everything. The Dream Research Institute, founded by the elusive Harry Camilton, was a place where dreams and reality blurred. It was a world of curiosity and groundbreaking research. To most people, it was a sanctuary for the mind. To Anna, it was just a job—a steady paycheck, a way to keep moving forward. But today, her thoughts felt fragmented, distracted by the eerie images from her dream.

Alexander was a rock, always there with a reassuring smile or a gentle touch on my shoulder, grounding me when I felt like I might float away in the whirlwind of tasks. Late at night, when everything was finally quiet, I would open my mother's diary again. Her past, her struggles, and her love became my escape from the day's stresses. But every time I closed the diary, sleep would bring more dreams—dreams that felt increasingly real, and I knew that it was the dragon kingdom. One night, after settling the twins and ensuring everything was in place for tomorrow, our wedding day, I decided that I needed to talk to Alexander about my dreams to see if he could help me understand why I was having

The weekend went by fast and 'not really' eventful with the best friends hanging out and soon it was Monday again. Dream sat on her bed, her face was smeared with drool and her hair scattered like a bird nest. It was one thing about her that literally no one knew about, she was an extremely bad sleeper. She threw her hand above her head and bent her upper body before opening her mouth to yawn loudly. She did her routine stretches, brushed her teeth and sauntered back to her room. She picked her phone and texted Jackie, Hey bae ;) She checked her school's group chat.

Whenever Esther or Aunt Kitra read me stories of how the men were so in love and how they’d go the extra mile to make their women happy and feel so loved… The stories became so imaginative. Whenever I slept, I saw my faceless man be everything I read from the stories and more… Now, even though I hate to admit it, and my strong woman era is still very much active, I still have the dreams. It’s just—very detailed now. The faceless man has become Emmett— Very detailed. It’s not just the sweet parts in the dreams. I—whatever I saw him do with Sarah in his bathroom the other day—makes me replace Sarah in my dreams.

I spend some time shopping for books and grabbing some Blu-Rays of movies I like, then head back a few hours later with a dozen bags. I don't see either Adrian or Dominique when I enter so I just go straight to my room. I shower, then lie down for the night to get some rest. The bed feels like a cloud and I fall asleep in no time. I don't usually dream, at least I don't remember enough details to journal about them or anything. But tonight, I do. I'm on a beach with waves crashing against the shore completely naked as I step into the water. My eyes are closed and I'm moaning, hands are all over my body, delicate fingers exploring every inch of my skin.

Joana was in a dream world thinking of Maxwell and how they would sleep on the same bed with him. Emma started feeling hot after taking two glasses of red wine.

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.

They jurked themselves awake once they felt the wetness that ensued from their hunching. Ife couldn’t believe she made it past first base in her sleep with her possible mates. What the fuck would happen if they actually attempted the things she dreamed about? Things became weird between them after that morning. Although they still slept in the same bed with her each night they never spoke of the wet dream action they all thoroughly enjoyed. Alo had caught himself staring at her remembering her calling out his name. Farrell was still caught up in the feel of her body against his. He had to get the rest of her, they were seventeen now and he couldn’t wait for them to turn eighteen if he could

A thin mist clung to his eyes as he stared at me in confusion. I raised an eyebrow and leaned slightly closer. I’ll teach you a game. If you do well, once the game is over, I’ll hand you Langford Group. Meanwhile, Evan sat restlessly spinning the glass in his hand, then tilted his head back and downed his third shot of hard liquor. He had pretended to be drunk earlier. Clearly, he had been offering Clara a way out. But why did she have to be so ungrateful? Bianca sat beside him and spoke as if the thought had only just occurred to her.