Derealization Stories Novels & Stories

My heart hammered loudly in my chest, what if he told Daren and the news got to my father? He wouldn’t do that, would he? “You are overthinking things. Daren wouldn’t tell dad, you know that,” I scolded myself, walking down the hallway that led to the one class that made me feel more human. The rest of the day went by like a flash. My mind was in a haze, unattached and lost in thought. My fingers hovered over the phone screen staring at yet another message. “Have you heard the story of the undead? A soul wandering on earth finding its path to truth, then you know I have something more in store,”

A rare moment of peace in my otherwise demanding life. Suddenly, a blinding flash of white light erupted in my mind, jarring me from my tranquil moment. It was a vision, stark and vivid. I suddenly saw a group of strange, unfamiliar figures, their faces hidden in shadows, infiltrating the Red Den. Their movements were swift and calculated, their purpose clear - to break someone out of his strict custody. The vision was fleeting, gone as quickly as it had arrived, leaving me with a gnawing sense of unease.

One of the few symptoms of mental exhaustion is delirium, losing your mind to your surroundings. I felt like I was in the passenger seat of a car driving really fast down a narrow road. The wind was blowing through my hair and I felt as if I could fly… I released a heavy breath as I opened my eyes. I was standing before the white house. There were a few people walking in and out laughing, drinking and having fun. Sigh, I needed a drink but I wasn't accustomed to drinking. Maybe I did and this was another mind test by Professor Faren pushing me to find a way out and resist his control over my mind.

Her connection to the living world, once a source of joy, seemed to hum with a new, anxious frequency. “The stories are too loud, Mama,” she confessed one evening, her small face drawn. “They’re all talking at once. And they’re… scared. They don’t know how to end.” The truth, when it came, did not arrive with an armada or a conceptual boom. It arrived in a dream we all shared on the same night. We were back in the Stillness. But it was no longer silent. It was filled with a desperate, whispering chorus. A million, a billion, a trillion voices—the voices of every story we had ever freed, every world that had woken up.

I have many other stories, but I’ll just leave you guys with this one and just tell the others when I can come back to write some more. Until then, just keep on praying. +++++++++ According to our Paramdam member, she has more to tell... I wonder, do you have stories to tell about your present school or your Alma Matter. I wonder did it traumatize you or did you learn more about the otherworlds? It would be nice if it were the latter, dear reader. So until next time, this is The Storyteller of The Supernatural Spa, The Diwata saying I hope to see you again...

Is my soul being sucked out of my body right now? Tyr had read a lot of stories on the Internet about soul detachment from the body. It was said to have happened to some people who were given first aid after a car accident or other severe accidents while lying in hospital beds. They would tell their friends and relatives about their terrifying experiences once they were resuscitated.

The landscape of his subconscious was starkly different from the realms I usually traversed during a deliberate dreamwalk. This time, I found myself standing in a deserted movie theater, the air thick with the scent of stale popcorn and forgotten memories. Raziel sat alone in the middle row, oblivious to my presence. The screen flickered to life, casting an eerie glow over the empty seats as a disjointed montage of images danced across its surface.

To her surprise she wasn’t shocked to be speaking to an animal but she wondered in her heart what this could mean? “Am I dreaming?” she asked. “Not exactly.” Well then am I dead? Dead? What does that even mean? What is death? Can conscience be killed? Can someone’s passions and dreams be silenced? Who you are can’t be stopped. She replied. Our life can’t be stopped it only takes another form. She then asked her how she got here. Well she told her “I’m not really sure about that?” There are many ways to our world and many reasons people are brought here. Some come after death. Some are brought here in flashes because the pain of their own world. Some have a very special purpose I was promised

“I didn’t turn into an empty shaking mess, for once.” He knew she was referring to her derealization episodes, but she had a sort of dark sense of humor to talk about it. He recalled it was not the first time she used it to address troubling subjects. But in the end, he was just glad she was sharing her story. He knew it was not always going to be that easy, but at least she was opening up a bit.

“This isn't normal. I think you might be experiencing some kind of post-traumatic stress from the ordeal with Susan and Caleb.” I'M NOT CRAZY! PLEASE BELIEVE ME! I slid down down the door and cried. The figure hovered over me and I felt defiant all of a sudden. "No," I said firmly, feeling a spark of defiance. “I’m not crazy, Maria. I know what I experienced.” Suddenly, the walls around me began to shudder, swirling with colors that felt too vibrant, too intense. The room started to dissolve into memories, flashes of laughter and cries, whispers of betrayal, and moments I could barely grasp.