Dreams Of The Dying Novels & Stories

He could remember every detail clearly. "When cultivators dream, there must have been some changes or signs." Caspian thought to himself, "The Hell, the souls of the dead, and Shaw Charles, which were destroyed, must have been because of the Gates of Hell. Is that why I have such a dream? And the voice in the dream, the pair of eyes, came from the Gates of Hell?" Caspian felt a dull pain in his head at the thought of the pair of eyes, which seemed to be soaked in blood.

~~~ R-O-M-12:12—12|13|14|15 - hope II-C-O-R-4:10—31|32|33|34|35 - dying J-O-H-N-3:16—17|18|19|20|21 - world 4_2_3_5_5 H O P E _ _ _ _ _ D Y I N G W O R L D 4 2 3 5 5 ~~~ “Hope on the Dying World?” - Xol “Hope in the Dying World?” - Czaquira “Hope of the Dying World.” Timotheus uttered.

How would I look if I am inside a coffin, imagining Tim looking at my dead body, and imagining me- how I would die. Overthinking Number 1: Everytime I heard words like " I'm scared to lose you", or " Please promise me you'll stay", I want to runaway and punish myself til' death. I don't want them to get frightened if time will come I will depart. It's just...they deserve a life. Even without me. And I don't want them to mourn when I left- I want them to continue living life chasing their dreams even when I am not breathing anymore. Then it suddenly shift to this:

“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

Her hands trembled as she looked down and saw crimson blooming across her white dress. She tried to scream, but no sound came. The figure stood over her now, its shadow swallowing her whole. Her vision blurred, the edges of the world turning black. The ground beneath her seemed to fall away, pulling her into a bottomless void. Her last thought before the darkness consumed her was chillingly clear: I’m dying. --- She gasped and jolted awake, the black blanket tangled around her. Her chest ached as if the dream had been real. For a moment, she sat there, staring around the room, before rubbing her face with a small sigh. “Another bad dream… figures,” she muttered.

One thing still played upon my mind though. “Morpheus?” “Yes my love?” “What would have happened if I had been killed by Dareios?” I looked up at him as his eyes became hard with smouldering anger. I felt his body stiffen as his anger rushed through every muscle in his body and he pulled me a little closer. “If he had killed you in this realm, you would be dead in the mortal realm too. That is why dreamers wake up before a nightmare results in their death. When dreamers don’t wake up they class it as a case of SUNDS, Sudden Unexpected Nocturnal Death Syndrome.”

'I want to die. If he dies, I will die with him.' This thought always seems to run through my mind day and night. A lot of mates have been separated through death. The one left alive could live through a strong will. But not me, I...I can't do this anymore. He sleeps as silent as a dead male, that I keep checking to see the rise and fall of his chest. Perhaps he dreams of vast fields and flowers, maybe even me and pups. But all I dream of is his dying eyes and his soul saying its last goodbye.

It lingered in his mind like a shadow he couldn't escape. A part of him was so certain it was real, yet he 'knew' it was impossible. Kalaril was right, it was normal to have meaningless dreams at the brink of death.

As I grappled with the echoes of the dream, I sought the counsel of an old confidant, my steadfast friend, Carlile. In the dimly lit chamber that served as our makeshift sanctuary, I recounted the vivid details of the dream to Carlile. The air hung heavy with the weight of unspoken truths, and Carlile, ever perceptive, absorbed the gravity of the situation. The lines etched on his weathered face bore witness to a shared history, one marred by the shadows that clung to my existence. "So, you see it too—the inevitable end that awaits me in those dreams," I confessed, my words laden with a mixture of resignation and determination.

**Warning: Due to sensitive content, readers discretion is advised.** Emiliana The cold metal pressed against my throat, the searing sharpness of death was calling to me. All I could think about was the life I hadn’t experienced yet. My life never flashed before my eyes like so many people tell you. It fluttered by me in stagnant images one after the other. Stills of hopes and dreams I was yet to accomplish and live through. Me tied up on the floor wasn’t on it.