Dream Of Prison Novels & Stories

I said softly, clinging to the possibility. He smirked faintly. “Just your cookies. I’d only miss your cookies.” “Right,” I muttered, rolling my eyes. Since the first day I entered this big prison like house, I’ve always wanted to be free. The word echoed in my head like a cruel joke. It was supposed to be what I wanted all along, wasn’t it? To walk away, to take my daughter, and never look back. To breathe without his shadow over me. But the truth? The truth was an ugly, tangled thing I didn’t want to face.

He dreamed about her childhood days, with her happy and lively state. He dreamed about her as an adult, with her face showing that her mind was full of thoughts. Then, he also dreamed about her being beaten in prison and dreamed of her screaming in the jail cell. In the end, a vast, never-ending fire sparked in his dream. She would scream in pain in the huge fire. He wanted to save her but could not rush in anyway. He was worried and restless yet also helpless. He could only watch with open eyes as she was consumed by the massive fire.

“W-What do you mean?” He doesn’t move, “I was trapped in there. That forest was a prison.” He nudges his foot and my eyes catch a broken shackle around his leg. There is no chain attached to it, making it look like it was recently broken. I feel tense. None of what he’s saying is making sense. Why was there a small boy held prisoner in Damien’s mind? And why is he in my dream? “Wh-What was it a prison for?” “I think you mean who,” he smiles and I clench my fist to hold in my shudder.

Jasmine's POV Despair fills me even in my dreams, making me wake up with a start and a frustrated cry for help. Unfortunately, when my eyes open up, I still find myself in the room, the prison he has locked me in since we got to New York. I have tried. Tried to think of a solution. Every problem has a solution, doesn't it? That's what I was made to believe but not anymore. This problem before me seems to have no solution. I am stuck here for life.

All our sneaking around, all the careful planning—it would all go up in flames. And worse? He’d probably laugh. And that would be the real nightmare. Then… our crimes would come to light. Damn it! How the hell were we supposed to escape this? I clenched my fists, panic clawing at my throat as my mind spiraled down a dark path. Prison. I could already see it—Cynthia and I rotting away behind bars, forced to eat the kind of garbage they served inmates. Meditating to pass time. Counting days until Liam showed up for his monthly visit, looking at us with pity in his eyes. God, no!

The assurance was high, a promise delivered by a friend in a moment of despair, filling me with a desperate, dizzying hope. But then, the cold reality of the stone floor seeped through the dream, pulling me back to the present. When I woke up, I discovered it was just a dream. I didn't pay attention to it much because it was just a mere dream, born of dehydration and desperation, a last flicker of hope from a mind starved of safety. I dismissed it, focusing instead on the small, immediate reality of my cell. The sun appeared slowly, the earliest light of the sixth day of my captivity. I could notice it from the small opening at the window of my prison room, a high, narrow slit that offered a

“I found that future.” Her voice broke. “I found one world where you lived.” “One where he was free.” “One where nobody was lost.” Hope flickered in Ama's chest despite herself. Then she saw the tears in the older woman's eyes. “And?” The answer came as little more than a whisper. “It wasn't a future.” Silence. “It was a cage.” The older Ama looked toward the river one last time. “The First Dreamer didn't build the prison to keep himself contained.” She looked back at Ama.

Perhaps Indang's mother and brother were worried at the same time. Butz she'll be back soon. She didn't want the young man to be depressed and alone in prison. She'd come here if she could. What was the point of living if she was alone while the man she loved was in the cold room? "BLESSY..." When she opened her eyes, she saw Fender and stared at her intently. She started to cry again. She realized it was all a dream. She has been unable to return to where he was imprisoned for three days. Because, in reality, she does not know the address. She kept thinking of him and what's happening to him, she had no reasonable sleep or food for three days. She also had nightmares but in her dream, the y

I dropped her gently on her feet and allowed her to digest the view of the place she’s in, and as expected, she gasped in admiration. My eyes couldn’t leave hers. She’s a beauty. A perfect match for me. She swayed her beautiful hips through the secluded but beautiful area meant to be a prison. After making love that night, she refused to tell me about her dream. As she slept, I could tell something was bothering her as she talked in her sleep. ‘Let me go... Let me out of this prison.’ That voice kept echoing in my ear, and I knew I had to take that pain away completely from her.

He ordered, "Don't give her food for about three days. Let's see how strong she is." My eyes opened, and I expected that I was still in the same situation, but no. I'm lying here on my bed and my phone is currently ringing. Sweat dripped down my forehead and my heart rate quickened. It was just a dream but it seemed like it really happened. Who is that man? I didn't see his face bit he had men, and I was locked in a dark prison and chained. There was nothing there except dust that looked like it hadn't been cleaned in years. I was tormented to death. Is this my past?