Dream House Novels & Stories

As lovely as getting to kiss her here is, and I like that I still feel the sparks of the bond, it’s not the same. “Mmm… hi to you too.” Katrina chuckled when we finally pulled apart. “So what fresh hell is this? I left you outside the dream world of Bisnonna’s house only to return hours later to find myself in… I don’t know what this is. Why are there ladders and slides? And what’s with the monkeys?” I chuckled because at least I’m not the only one that doesn’t get it. “I have no fucking clue. It’s like some fucked up mashup of shoots and ladders with a barrel full of monkeys. We’d have to ask Shit Witch to know for sure.” I sighed.

We'd just moved into a new house, and along with it came a brand-new fingerprint lock on the front door. On moving day, my parents rounded up the whole family to register their fingerprints. I was the only one left standing outside in the cold for half an hour. By the time I was finally let back in, my brother and sister were already testing the new lock, giddy with excitement. My mother cupped my sister's hand fondly, as if the fingerprint scanner might have hurt her fingers. "Oh, our little princess has her face and fingerprint all set up now. No need to worry about forgetting her keys." My father beamed, unable to stop smiling. "From now on, if anyone ever dares lock Cassandra out o

We would do that tonight if he wanted to. “Think of the Dreamworld as a living organism. People can go in and out of there without any problems as long as they behave the way that the world desires it to. It is hardwired into the world to desire it to remain hidden. It was a defense mechanism put in place once others began to covet it for its power. It sensed you as a threat because you were able to see it for what it truly was,” Dara explained. My eyebrows furrowed at that explanation. That did not entirely make sense though because I was not the only one who could see it and manipulate it.

Cat like eyes,one sided dimple also not to forget that am not curvy nor flat just okay I could say. I made my way to the living room expecting to see my mom seating on the couch counting her steps as she marched the floor repeatedly while frowning at no one in particular just being her moody self I guess. But she wasn't there so I made my way to the kitchen somewhere I know she would surely be and that's when I heard her voice nagging about the leftover food that wasn't covered as instructed by her yesterday night. Mothers and thier dramas. "So madam, you've finally decided to wake up"?

Exhausted from the weight of our trials, I found solace in fleeting moments of slumber at Damien's enchanting mansion. As the sun cast gentle rays through the opulent drapes, I slowly awakened from a peaceful sleep. I slipped out of bed, casting a fleeting glance at the expanse of Damien's room. True to the nature of his mansion, it exuded grandeur, grand windows framed by luxurious drapes, exquisite artwork adorning the walls, and intricate details that bespoke the refined taste of its owner.

Awakening from the dream, Hazel found herself back in her studio, surrounded by the familiar sights and sounds of her creative sanctuary. The memories of the dream library lingered in her mind, a vivid tapestry of colors and emotions that continued to inspire her artistic journey. Empowered by the dream experience, Hazel approached her work with a renewed sense of purpose and passion. Each brushstroke, each blend of color, each moment of reflection was infused with the magic of the dream library, guiding her towards a deeper understanding of her own creative spirit.

Tonight was no different. In her dream, Ava was back in her childhood home. The stunning five storey bedroom, fully detached mansion built by Mr. Affleck Johnson. The house stood in it’s glory and the air smelled faintly of mildew, as though the house itself had been holding its breath, waiting for life to return. Ava stood in the doorway, hesitant. She recognized this moment; it was the same dream she’d had countless times before. She was eighteen again, stuck in that painful limbo after her mother’s disappearance.

I put on an anxious and helpless face. "Don’t jinx my son!" Mom immediately covered my mouth, panic in her eyes. Without hesitation, she pulled me toward the stairs. "Wait, Mom. You go first. It’s cold outside. I’ll grab a coat for you." Pretending to fetch a coat, I let her go ahead. In my previous life, I had fallen down those stairs on the fifth floor. This time, something felt off. What was with people lying in wait in the stairwell to push me until I tumbled down?

Seated with a digital tablet before him, Raymond Johnson was in the middle of picking out a birthday present for Tracy Lambert's 23rd birthday. When he heard Melanie Strickland speak, he didn't even look up as he said, "The house I'm giving Trace isn't worth that much. Even after factoring in the real estate agent's commission, the total is under 700 thousand dollars. "As for Northshore's Villa No. 1, which is under your name, it's in the best spot in Bell City, so it's not like you're losing out on anything. I still care about you the most, Melanie."

His smile deepened as he reached over and ruffled my hair. "Alright," he said. "Whatever you say, my dear examiner." It was the first time I had stepped into Yoel's home. Like him, it was cold and restrained, dominated by black, white, and gray. Even the air carried a chill that seemed to say, "Keep out." It didn't feel like a home but more like a luxury hotel model suite. The only living thing was a thriving green pothos by the window.