Derealization Stories Novels & Stories

“Got so I couldn’t turn on a goddamn faucet, let alone do the dishes, take a shower, water the garden. But I wouldn’t admit to myself why I was hearing water all the time. I repressed it. Along with everything else.” Deyquan shook his head. Sighed, looking back out into the raining night, gaze studiously avoiding Kyle’s body. “Don’t make sense, it being your kid’s ghost. Why us? No offense, but we had nothing to do with it.” “This isn’t happening. Can’t be. It’s another hallucination, a dream, because I stopped my meds. A week ago, I stopped my meds, and I threw the empty bottle out the truck window before I came in here tonight . . . ”

Olivia With shaky hands, I grabbed either side of the basin in the bathroom. I wanted to throw up. I was sick with fear, the kind of fear that had no name or face attached to it. It was bottomless. For a second, I didn't know who or what I was. Nothing made sense. I had never experienced this sense of derealization before. I didn't even know that I would be capable of feeling this way.

“Dehydration plays a major role in deceiving one’s own self into believing something which is untrue or something that our mind wants us to tell on the basis of our emotions at that time. Just like it is shown in the movies that when somebody has lost their way into the desert and are going berserk over their thirst for water, they hallucinate an oasis and run towards it only to find out it is a mirage. Likewise, my fears are overtaking me with each inch of distance we are covering. Hence, I am being made to sense whatever my recurring emotions want me to. Oops! I forgot in wondering all this, I must take some water to ease myself up more” Martha finally took a break from her self-conversati

"They were poisonous cocoa," I burst into laughter and my eyes crossed with that of Tristan for a moment before I focused back on Zander, "You must have experienced delusions for days," "One of the most terrible experiences of my life, I can't begin to describe how I felt that day, Nazeera did everything to snap me out of it but I was far too gone. "I could only imagine, I would definitely have to hear her version of events, she would know the juicy part of the tale of your ordeal,"

“But I know what they did to you. I know what it feels like to be erased.” He rocked slightly, his hands gripping tighter around his knees. His voice came faster now, as though the floodgates were opening. “They break you into pieces and call it healing. They play voices, songs, until you can’t remember your own.” His eyes grew more intense. “Sometimes, I remember a field. Light and wind. Sometimes, I hear screaming. Most days, it’s just static.”

Sarah left with a promise that she would be back the next day. As soon as we were in the room, I had an indescribable need to tell Dr. Morgenson, and Nathan, a detailed description of what happened. It was like I was purging the images from my mind by putting them into words. Somehow it was more real, I wasn’t making it up. They would believe me; there was no one there to discredit me. No tears spilled as I spoke. I felt like I was having a strange, out-of-body experience as I recounted the gory details.

Hyde nodded, "Don't be so protective, says the person who materialized out of thin air when Amy was interrupted." Jeremy was speechless. The new song, My Dearest Delusion, was the story of a girl who ran away from her wedding after becoming disillusioned with love, stumbled through her escape, and unexpectedly found her true love along the way. Amy prepared a beautiful, intricately-woven wedding dress, and a pair of white high-heels that were especially suited for running away from weddings.

She would often hear voices and see things that weren't there, and it was heartbreaking to see her struggle to distinguish reality from her delusions. Then there was John, a former soldier who had been struggling with PTSD. He would often wake up in the middle of the night, screaming and crying, as he relived the traumatic events of his past. It was devastating to see him struggle to find peace and comfort, even in his own home. I also met Emily, a sweet and gentle soul who had been diagnosed with bipolar disorder. She would often swing from extreme highs to extreme lows, and it was heartbreaking to see her struggle to find stability and balance in her life.

“What story? I write?” Elias nods and pulls out his phone to show me some pictures. “Yeah. You’re an author. You draw your own novel arts too. The story was about a tyrant’s captive bride. Dark romance stuff. You never finished it though. I found the book in your backpack.” The psychiatrist thinks your brain was living in the story while you were out. Mixing the accident trauma with the plot you were working on. That’s why it felt so real.”

Within seconds the medical hall had emptied to Halrem, Selene, Draevor, and one sleeping wolf. Halrem turned back to the herb diagrams. “This concludes your interruption.” Draevor remained where he was. “You did not answer.” “I refuse to dignify absurd questions.” “Can you diagnose it.” Halrem looked at him. There was that maddening directness again. No blush, no hesitation, no attempt to disguise the subject beneath metaphor. He asked impossible things as if discussing weather. “Yes,” she said at last. Draevor’s brow lifted slightly. Halrem continued in the same cold physician tone she used when explaining terminal conditions. “The patient suffers from prolonged exposure to self-created fan