Novel & Cerita Dreams From My Father

"I am still here." "For now." "I will always be here." She leans into my touch, closing her eyes. I feel her breath against my palm. "I love you," she says. "I love you too." We fell asleep on the couch, tangled in each other. The fire burns low. The night is quiet. I dream of my father. He is standing in a garden, the sun warm on his face. He smiles at me. "I am proud of you," he says. "Proud of what?"

he teased, but his question stirred several emotions within me. I used to be a dreamer with vivid pictures of how my future should look but that part of me seemed to have died with my father. The enthusiastic and visionary part that wanted nothing more but to achieve her goals. That had to change. “She's still there, she just needs to be reminded of who she is, ” I blinked hard to keep the tears that had suddenly gathered in my eyes from spilling. He massaged my arm. “Hey, don't be hard on yourself. Everything will be fine,”

I watched my father’s expression switch from the warm one he use with the officer, to the scary on he used in staring at me right now. He sat down slowly, his shoulder shifting like an animal as he stared at me. “Sofia… one job-” I gulped. His voice held this deep tine that sent chills up my spine. How did his tone go from fatherly to pyschotic. “I gave you just one job. Get to Patrick Vanners, seduce him and get evidence against him.” I gritted my teeth as I forced myself to hold his stern cold gaze. “I did as you asked. But-”

My body was drenched in sweat and I realized that my claws were Also extracted with my muscles clenched as if I was expecting a fight. “The same dream,” Father spoke calmly. It sounded more like a statement than a question. He knew already. “Yeah. The same nightmare.” I confirmed. At this point, my body was relaxed a little and I slowly swung over my legs over the side of the bed and sighed. “Stop pushing it, son,” Father spoke again. “Just take it easy…” “What choice do I have, father?” I interrupted him. “There's nothing I can do. This is me.. this is my life. I don't know how to live differently..”

Jack’s home. I sit up slowly, the comforter slipping down to my waist. A soft sigh escapes my lips as I press my fingers to my temple. My head feels heavy, burdened with a thousand unanswered questions. That dream… no, not just a dream. A memory. The third one now. The little girl—me. And her last word… Dad. That was my father… wasn’t it? The second dream was about my mother. The first, I’m almost certain, was me in the witch’s hut.

Somewhere above, his father's laughter slithered through the floorboards. Time dissolved in the dark. Damien counted breaths (1,372). Recited stock prices from memory (Blackstone Steel: $42.50 a share). He dug his nails into his own palms until blood slicked his fingers, I'll do anything to stay awake. “Do not dream.” Because the dreams were worse. Dreams of his mother's empty chair at breakfast, her place setting still perfectly arranged though no one would ever sit there again. Of Father's belt buckle glinting in the study lamplight as it came undone. Of the doctors whispering "pneumonia complications" as they carried her favorite Ming vase from the house, the one she'd kept filled with pe

I stared at that little blot of clear, pure water on my trembling fingers… I lifted my eyes to meet my father’s cold, disdainful gaze, and something inside me snapped. “I’M GOING TO KILL YOU JUST LIKE YOU KILLED HER YOU EVIL FUCKING CUNT.” My father laughed as I threw myself into my wolf and launched straight for his throat, but I was too late—the strength went out of my legs as his compulsion took hold and my heart broke when— “CAZZ, IT’S A DREAM! IT’S JUST A DREAM, WAKE UP!” I sat bolt upright with a snarl, sending the furs flying because my instincts screamed that their weight was the grip of my father’s control.

I started, my fingers clasped together in my lap, teeth sinking in my bottom lip. "So," He echoed and tilted his head slightly to the side, unabashedly observing and assessing me. "I am sure you have a reason to talk to me alone." My father said after a moment, eyes boring into my skin. Suddenly I recalled the flashes of the dream from last night, dread curling in my belly. The more I thought about it, the more it made my nerves bunch together. "D-Dad, I had the same dream again." I croaked, eyes clenching tight as I already imagined the reply he would have for me. "Are you sure you don't know anything about it?"

Are you fighting with your mates? "Uh, No, father, I am not fighting with them. "I told you I'm good," I responded. "No, I don't think you are good, darling. I can feel your emotions. I can feel your fears, "he informed me. Tell me, I'm your father. What's wrong with you? I opened up, "Father, I had a terrible dream." He asks, "You had a dream?" "No, father. It was not a dream. It's what I experienced, "I mumbled. It was real, father.

Tessa took his hand and pulled him down the hall. As he entered the room, he looked at Jennah and Dom and couldn’t help think that this scene started because of a dream. A note from Jacqueline Paige: I hope you enjoyed reading Dreams as much as I enjoyed writing it! My website is jacquelinepaige (dot) com; I love feedback.