Dreaming Of Someone You Never Met Novels & Stories

“Can we just talk anytime like this?” “Honestly, I’m not sure. This ex-husband, he didn’t...” “No! He’s a slime ball that won’t go away is all.” “Okay. I have to go. I’ll connect with you later.” She remembered she was still at work. “Uh…okay.” She waited; just to be sure he was gone. When he said nothing more, she closed her eyes and opened them again. That was probably the weirdest thing she’d ever experienced in her life. Was Dominic some sort of telepath or something? Did they really exist? She smirked. Something existed, and it seemed she was one of them.

he asked and I noticed he was teasing, he thought maybe I was referring to Flynn. "Hmm...I can't see the man's face in my dream, I don't know why is it like that," I replied. He nods and seems to be thinking about it. “I think when you don’t see someone’s face in your dream, it means someone is coming into your life that you didn’t expect to come,” Enzo said and I grinned. "Is that so? b-but who is that man in my dreams," I wondered. "You'll know who it is when the time you see someone makes your heart beat faster," he teased. We looked at the oncoming car so Enzo and I stood up.

I kept my mouth shut and listened. "My Grandma told me once about something called dream walking" she said, picking up a try of food from the lunch lady and heading to check out. I followed her, wanting to hear more. "She says when two people are soul mates, and they finally find each other that when they are apart they come together in the shadow realm or, as we call it, the dream world. Their souls can't stand being apart, so when they sleep at night they travel into the dream world to be together until the waking hours," she said as we walked to a table and sat down. We ate our breakfast before class started.

Well, technically, I met him on paper, in pixels, as an eight-year-old boy trapped in a photograph. Sometimes, when I look at that picture, I wonder: Who did he become? Is he cold? Is he warm? Does he even remember me? Or am I just another arranged detail in his privileged life? And then there are the dreams. The last few months, a strange man keeps invading my sleep, an unknown face, unfamiliar hands, moments that feel too intimate, too real to be just dreams. Sometimes I wake up sweating, my heart racing as though I have been touched for the first time.

which was true in every way and meant nothing in particular. She nodded slowly, accepting this. Then, in the same quiet, matter-of-fact tone with which she had told him her name in the ambulance: "I keep dreaming of a girl disappearing. In every nightmare, she's at the edge of something — a platform, a window, a doorway — and then she's not. I don't know her. I've never seen her face. But she keeps being there and then not being there and I always wake up screaming." The room was very still.

Lately, I'd been having the same strange dream. A man stood somewhere in the distance, his outline blurred. The only things I could make out were his clear, gentle eyes and the small mole near the corner of one of them. He never spoke. He just watched me with this quiet sadness. Or sometimes, he would murmur, "I miss you so much." No matter how hard I tried, I could never figure out who he was. Nobody in my memory matched him at all.

This was someone preparing for war. "How long have you been dreaming?" she asked. "What dreams?" But even as I said it, I knew. The dreams that felt too real, too vivid. Dreams of running through forests I'd never seen, of people calling a name that wasn't mine but felt like it should be. "The ones where you're someone else. Someone more." Nadia moved closer, studying my face like she was reading a map. "Have you felt the pull? The sense that your blood remembers something your mind doesn't?"

She teased, playfully tweaking my nose. I swatted her hand away, sending a playful glare. We sat on the bed, enjoying each other's company. "Anything new to share?" Emilia asked, flashing her signature grin. "I've been having weird dreams," I confessed, avoiding her gaze. "How do you mean?" Emilia asked, scooting closer. "It's difficult to explain. I dream of weird places and giant wolf-like creatures speaking in parables, saying something about finding my purpose." Emilia shrugged. "Wow, that's a lot... but I don't think it means anything." I blinked, surprised. How could it not mean anything?

France Jack caressed the photo in front of him, his eyes red, and his hair disheveled. He had a nightmare, a very long one. "Serena, we haven't talked for a long time. I just dreamed of you. They say dreaming of someone you haven't spoken to in a while means they are forgetting you. Is that true? I miss you so much..." As he spoke the last sentence, a hint of choking accompanied it, causing a twinge in Serena's heart.

“Wait, let me finish. Your parents told you it’s impossible for someone to dream about their mate, but it doesn’t mean they are right. They might not have known someone who had experienced it, but it doesn’t mean we can rule it out of the possibilities. If you really felt like it was real, and completely different from your other dreams, then it must have meant something. Not because someone told you it’s impossible because they haven’t seen something similar, doesn’t mean it was unlikely. Our world is big; there are a lot of probabilities that exist but we had no idea of.” Cassius fixed his intense gaze on me for a few seconds, which almost made me squirm, but he thankfully looked away agai