Dream About Reading A Book Novels & Stories

Tessa took his hand and pulled him down the hall. As he entered the room, he looked at Jennah and Dom and couldn’t help think that this scene started because of a dream. A note from Jacqueline Paige: I hope you enjoyed reading Dreams as much as I enjoyed writing it! My website is jacquelinepaige (dot) com; I love feedback.

“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.

Tonight, I’m done fighting it. I’m lying on my bed wearing nothing but a tiny black lace thong, my nipples hard from the cool air and anticipation. My heart pounds as I slowly spread my thighs, already soaked. The wetness has been dripping down my folds for hours just thinking about him. The door to my bedroom creaks open.

He kissed her forehead, and walked out of the room, heading to the study. Locking himself up in the study room, he began to read the book. With each page he turned, he felt connected to the book. He felt like the book was talking about him and Maya, but on the other hand, it was more about his dreams. It reminded him so much of the dreams he had every night. His heart throbbed when he finished reading the book and he stood up, unable to bear the clenching in his heart. He stood by the window and then looked at the book again.

He pushed the feeling down, "it was a dream. Just a dream." That night, he returned to the library. The room was neat, orderly, nothing like the chaotic, smoke-filled chamber from his memory. He searched the nook where he’d found the strange book, but it was empty. He combed the shelves, but the unique spine with its ostentatious cursive was nowhere to be found. It was as if it had never existed. "Ah... I'm so confused. Could I have fainted as soon as I got home and dreamt about reading for 10 hours?!" He ran his hands through his hair in frustration.

"Is it because of the sound of the TV? I can turn it off!" "No, it's not because of that!" She replied. "Actually, I was reading a romance book." "What novel is so interesting that you spend the night reading it?" "It's not that, it's just that I couldn't sleep, so I picked up a random novel to read. It was a strange story that starts with the main character having the same dream over and over again." She spoke without giving too many details.

The Book of Curse, with its foreboding aura, seemed to cast a spectral presence in the recesses of her mind. The old journal, now placed on the nightstand, carried the weight of its uncanny resemblance to the haunting images from her nightmares. Jette closed her eyes, hoping that sleep would offer respite from the disquieting thoughts that lingered. As the night unfolded, the boundary between dreams and reality blurred, and the Book of Echoes became a silent witness to the mysterious interplay between past, present, and the uncharted realms of the subconscious—a harbinger of a narrative that transcended the tangible pages of a journal and ventured into the intangible realms of the unknown.

A bookmark stuck out about a third of the way through. He stretched out on the sofa with his back to the arm, opening the book on his lap and sitting the saucer of nectarine slices within easy reach on the coffee table. He read four paragraphs and ate two slices. He put the book aside and got to his feet. Wandering back out into the hallway, he paused, staring up at the high ceiling then back down at the glistening tile. It’s really mine, he thought. Not for the first time, but he still found the knowledge hard to grasp. He couldn’t quite shake the feeling this was all a long and detailed dream, and at any moment he may wake up and be back in that crappy studio apartment in South Carolina.

"You haven't mentioned you know a man by the name Arden, Addie. Is there something I need to--" "No!" was her quick response. Exasperatedly, she rolled her eyes to the roof. "Mom, just an acquaintance. I met him when I was...in...in the city. I forgot to return the...the book, yes, the book, so yeah, what a pleasant visit, but it's late so we have to hit the hay for now and call it a night, shall we?" She widened her eyes at me. "I thought you would go to the cafe?"

My eyes widened at what he said, “So, you sleep here too?” He chuckled, “Yes. This library is like my second bedroom.” He smiled after that. He leaned back in his chair, and after a few seconds, he looked at me. “You, do you like reading books?” I stared at him for a minute before smiling and holding the book close to me. "I do love reading books. Because every time I read the stories inside them, it's like I go to a different place, and I feel happy. I don't know why. Maybe it's because... that's one of my ways to forget the life I have..."