Dreaming Changing Clothes Novels & Stories

I shot up in my bed; my sheets were soaked from sweat. I had let out a scream but no one was home to hear it. It was a dark shadowy day outside so my room was dim and I sat there wracking my mind, just trying to remember my dream. I couldn't really remember it; all I could recall was that it was frightening and more of a nightmare than a dream. I slowly moved to the side of the bed and decided to just go take a shower. I walked across the bedroom in all of my nudity to the bathroom. As I looked up into the mirror, I could see that my dark curly hair was now nothing but wet, matted frizz. I reached to grab a ponytail holder and looked back at my reflection. But it was no longer just me.

The notion of her imminent return, trapped in the unyielding grasp of a coma, stirred a somber undertow within me. Facing the mirror, changing my attire felt like a futile attempt to escape the oppressive weight of reality. The shower's warmth offered no solace, each drop echoing the silent tears that refused to fall. The routine of shedding the day's garments became a ritual of surrender to a reality where her physical presence remained imprisoned in stillness. As I selected an outfit, it wasn't a choice driven by anticipation but a mechanical response to the numbness that enveloped me. The room, in its quiet desolation, became a mausoleum of unspoken words and unrealized dreams.

Even though she had been scared of the handsome man all this time. *** "What are you doing? Instead of changing clothes, you're just standing there. Are you planning to go out in a kimono and towel?" Casandra shook her head. "No, Sir. I don't have any clothes. I can't possibly go out wearing a spider-web-like dress, can I? You know yourself that Madam put all sorts of strange clothes in my suitcase. I can't possibly go out wearing your shirt and pants. I'd look like a flag in the middle of a rice field."

Instead of the gold dress I had worn for the reception, I was now in a red pajama short and matching singlet. “Oh my gosh!” I gasped, hugging myself. “Did he change me himself?” I glanced at the culprit, who was lying eagle spread on the bed with no care in the world and only in his boxers. His mouth was slightly open as light snores left him, and I smiled, taking a mental image. It was nice to see that the almighty Alex wasn’t always put together. But that wasn’t going to change the fact that he had changed me himself.

After telling him about my dream, he thought about it for a while before telling me to sit. "By tomorrow, I should get an idea of what that dream means." I nodded and closed my eyes praying that I won't have that kind of dream. I was woken by Marcus, and when I saw the time I got to my feet. "Thank you," "You are welcome," We greeted each other, and I went to take my bath. After bathing, I saw a new outfit on the bed, and thought that Marcus brought a new dress. Done putting on the dress, I checked myself in the mirror, and it looked like men's wear, so I decided to take it off.

However, I’d discovered many other methods. Today, I had seven changes of clothes before I would sleep again. Right now, I am standing in my first, and I’ll change into my wedding dress next. Then I’ll change into my reception dress. After the reception, I’ll change into my travel or going away dress, and then dinner dress. Changing for bed. I don’t believe I could spend all my time changing my clothes like this all the time. I’m unsure how women managed this. But we had fun. Talking, laughing, joking, singing, and having fun with each other. I had concerns about feeling uncomfortable, but something had shifted, leaving me uncertain of the cause.

“So l assume you won’t be telling me what happened in the said dream?” I shook my head lightheartedly and thankfully, he didn’t look annoyed in the slightest. Then I realized that he was putting on the shirt he wore yesterday and a pair of sweatpants. Did he not get a chance to change? I asked myself but then I gasped when I realized something. When did I even change? I was deadbeat tired after last night's ordeal. “Did you undress me?” I asked, eyeing him surreptitiously and he smirked.

He whispered, “I know much more… like the scar on your inner thigh. Her heart was boiling with dread as her intensity rose. She looked into his eyes in both confusion and fear. She remembered something as her eyes caught the colour of her sleeves. All this time, she hadn’t even noticed her dress had changed, and he never let her notice. He was giving her nightmare after nightmare from the moment she woke up. Her heart beat fast as she asked, “Did… did you change my clothes?” He looked into her eyes, a slow smirk curved across his lips as he lowered himself towards her face, his voice brushing her skin.

Once dinner is over, I rush back to my room. I cannot wait to be rid of this godforsaken dress. I am never wearing this damn thing again. Pulling the dress from my body, I sigh with relief, and quickly change into a loose cotton shirt. These are the clothes I am most comfortable with, even though they are 'unbecoming' of a princess. After washing the makeup from my face and brushing my hair, I climb into bed exhaustion taking over me. I guess I did not realize how tired I am. Closing my eyes, I allow the darkness to take over, pulling me into a dreamless sleep.

Did he just say what I think he said? Slowly, my eyes drop to my body. Earlier I was wearing a skirt and shirt. Now… I’m wearing something soft and loose. Is this a dress? A nightgown? A hospital outfit? I don’t even know. Clinton leans closer. “You don’t like the dress?” My brain short-circuits. Only one thought repeats in my head. Clinton changed my clothes. My cheeks burst into flames. I cross my arms quickly. Heat crawls up my neck. And suddenly…