Dream Mirrors Novels & Stories

"He did. I could feel it. He did it. I believe in my hallucinations now, but I am not mad." "Ai, it was all your hallucinations and nightmare all along. Because he do drugs you to sleep, you can't deny the fact that while you sleep he would do it. That drugs also help in controlling your mind. That causes you to hallucinate the act, then you believe it is reality all along. Nightmares are normal after such experiences." "Oh my goodness. What have I done? What have I done? Oh no." I cried guiltily as my palm was on my head.

Modern, furnished and beautiful and looking new everyday although the house was five years old already. Juana's coffee was transparent, lot of water,lot of sugar, no milk. So she could see her face while sipping at it. Her big blue eyes were a bit undefined, her expression showed fear with a mixture of helplessness and unusual calm. Then the dream came again. Avocado. Garden. Branch. Third branch. Corpse dripping with blood. Loose. Screaming. Empty House. Dream. "Oh my goodness" she sighed, dropping her half empty mug. She tried to make meaning out of it, but it was a little creepy..

She shook her head. “They’re similar to us,” Mikan explained. “We use telepathy to read thoughts or memories. Dreamers can enter a person’s dreams and watch or manipulate them. They can see what the dreamer sees, feel what they feel. It’s powerful… and dangerous. They can alter memories, even reality, for the sleeping mind. That’s why they’re rarely trusted.” Brie looked toward the door where Trace had gone. “He doesn’t trust the dreamer you’re suggesting, does he?”

~ A M E L I A ~ I wondered if I had gotten even a minute of peaceful sleep last night, which is something I seemed to ask myself every morning I’d wake since… I can’t even remember how long. It felt like forever at this point. Those three recurring dreams taunted me every night without permitting me any relief by allowing me to force myself to wake up. Engulfed in flames, surrounded by crying newborns. Attacked by a wolf with ash fur and eyes like a demon.

She decided to stop at the coffee shop and ordered two mocha frappes just the way she liked it: extra espresso and no whip cream; one for herself and one for her best friend. The slow drive up to the window gave her mind time to wander. She thought about the last few nights. Her dreams had been wild. She recalled one in particular that played in her dreams a few times over the last two years; three owls. They flew to her, resting on her arms and shoulder. She could recall it was all immensely powerful. They sat on her until she was ready to move, and once she started to walk down the dirt path barefoot, the owls followed her on the journey, one always leading the way.

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.

The initial dream whisked me away to an otherworldly space, where I stood before the moon goddess, a radiant presence draped in celestial glow. Softly, she uttered, "Remember," as if implanting a command that rippled through the dream, leaving an indelible imprint in the recesses of my mind. Abruptly, the second dream unfurled, transporting me to a stark reality where I stood clad in a ceremonial white dress, marred by the stains of blood. An unpleasant picture unfolded, featuring the grisly decapitation of my father’s head. I watched it fall down to the floor and roll away into the darkness.

“If I knew, I would fix it. I can’t stop getting enough blood. I feel like a bus ran over me. Literally, I feel like I was hit by a bus. Those dreams were so real, so powerful, and I can’t shake them, Alex. I never, ever, have had anything feel like this before. I woke up a pool of sweat and took a shower once already. I feel like a wreck, and all I can do is think about Amber.” “Wow, Dom, that is crazy. I didn’t realize that. I don’t think I have ever heard you say anything about dreaming before.” “No, I hadn’t. I had this vision, which sucked a lot of energy from me. I then fell asleep, which just became a trap. I was stuck in a wonderfully, erotic, real, intense, and I don’t have the word

ADAIRA ** I had weird dreams. Dreams of wars and death that seemed more like memories I have lived through or will live through in the future. In every one of these dreams, I saw a different version of me, with white hair and white eyes. I saw my grandmother again, she was warning me to hurry, telling me that we were running out of time. I tried to ask her questions but I could not do so in my dream, it was like there was a barrier between us and she kept being pulled away from me and out of my reach.

The bath refreshed her, soothing her tired muscles. After blow-drying her hair and settling into bed, Wynter closed her eyes, only to see those mesmerizing blue orbs before her. She wished she could help but realized everyone carries their own burdens in this world. Sabrina's words echoed in her mind, reminding her to focus on her own challenges amidst the sea of others' struggles. Despite trying to escape from those beautiful eyes, they persisted, wanting to convey a story. As she drifted off to sleep, for the first time, her dreams weren't plagued by betrayal or worries about the future. Instead, someone else filled her thoughts, offering a respite from her usual concerns.