Romans & histoires Fild Lucid Dreaming

Because I had a dream. No. I had that kind of dream. The filthy, X-rated, soak-the-sheets-and-ruin-your-soul kind of dream. The kind that makes you wake up with your hand between your legs, dripping, pulsing, shaking. The kind that makes you want to scream and crawl into a hole and cry at the same time because it felt so real. Lucian was in it. Of course he was. Lucian with the hands. The growl. The fucking stare that makes me clench even when I’m mad at him. He didn’t even touch me in the dream. He just stood there. Watching. Talking. And it was the dirtiest thing I’ve ever experienced in my life.

Monalisa informed me and I nodded to her words. I wanted to reach Luciano through the mind link but decided to let it be. I didn't want to distract him. Heaving a deep sigh, I closed my eyes to take a nap.I tossed on the bed but after a few minutes of trying to fall asleep, my eyelids become heavy and my vision blurry… ____________ "Hazel…"I heard Luciano's voice in my head."You need to wake up."He told me in a soft voice and I blinked countless times, fighting the urge to fall asleep again.

Chapter 21: Lucian can be seen on his king-sized bed sleeping like a log of wood. While sleeping, his facial expressions change rapidly showing anger and disgust. Lots of sweat drops have distilled on his forehead and he has his fist clenched. He is clearly having a nightmare - something that's very much unlike him. What could be happening?.... Lucian’s POV~

I murmured "You tried your best" A month had passed after Lily's death. Home never felt like home. School even got worse, news started spreading about me having dreams and how it actually happens. Everyone avoided me, no one wanted to associate with me, except for kelly and Liam. I felt like an outcast. I wanted to drop out of school but then I remembered my mom did everything to make me be in school, I was not going to throw that away. i haven't had any dreams since then and it really made me worried and alot scared than before. I didn't know what to expect.

“What do you mean by odd dreams? Like nightmares?” “Well, three dreams have particularly stood out. Each time it’s hard for me to wake up, it’s like I’m partially conscious.” Rose paused, clearly trying to figure out how to proceed with her explanation. “The first one I had, I would describe it as a lucid nightmare. That one happened the day before my birthday. I dreamt about a forest catching on fire, screaming, smoke, burning flesh, and howls.” “You dreamt about the rogue attack?” How did she manage to dream about the attack?

Kindly cooperate with us for further investigations. Laura broke a carefully manicured fingernail on her finger.

Only a few old structures looked familiar. "Now what? Uber? This era has got Uber, right?" I said. "With what?" Randy asked. "If this is a dream, can't we control it with our minds?" "You mean, lucid dreaming?" "Yeah, why not?" "Worth a shot, but it might be risky." Controlling dreams was tricky, especially in this weird shared one. We tried standing still, focusing, but nothing happened. Lucid dreaming didn't work here. I gave up. "Let's just walk. We'll find it."

But he kept right on flexing his buttocks without seeming aware he was doing it. Phil was prone to vivid waking dreams. Even though his eyes were open and locked on the screen in front of him, his mind was picturing scenes from his own youth, when he had been a lifeguard on the beach in southern California. He had enjoyed some amazing sex with two different gorgeous female lifeguards back then, as well as a handful of the "beach bunnies" who had eagerly thrown themselves at him. That montage blended in with the images on the screen. The sensations coming from his lap just seemed a part of that dream. When he blinked and realized the end credits were rolling, he believed he had fallen asleep.

Chapter 288: Dreamfield Genesis Ottawa — The Threshold of Sleep For three days, no one truly slept. They dreamed — but not as they once did. The boundary between waking and dreaming had dissolved into a shared field: billions of minds coexisting in luminous patterns that pulsed through the Earth’s magnetic hum. Scientists called it “Collective REM Resonance.” The poets called it the Dreamfield. Sophia stood in the former research wing of the Lumen Integration Center, eyes half-closed as monitors displayed waves of light translating neural frequencies into visual form. Streams of consciousness — colors, symbols, memories — rippled through the glass.

I yell, causing a low growl to pass through the cave. I lift my eyes to follow the noise that seems to be creeping over the ceiling, and I gulp. “Was that Drake?” “Missy!” Fynn barks, getting my attention back on him. “You have to wake up! What are you doing? How did you get here?” “I just fell asleep, duh!” I answer, shaking my head. He drives his hands through his hair, and I cross my arms. “This is some ugly lucid dreaming. I hate those.”