Free In Dreams Novels & Stories

Telling myself I fell asleep in a park was way better than saying than trying to explain how I got here. “ Yes, that's what it is! It's a dream!” I said aloud, convincing myself.

In my dreams, I can say and do whatever I want, no consequences, no anxiety holding me back. When I sleep, it's just us. We're nowhere with no one. There are no mothers or expectations or fears. We are free to live how we are supposed to live. I am not human and he is not one of them. We are two souls intertwined forever and always, inseparable even in the tired conjurings of my own mind.

We just try to keep moving along, hoping our next big mistake won’t destroy whatever little bit we still have left. But dreams have a different kind of meaning to humans. They mean a lot, and are deeply personal to those involved. Dreams mean freedom; they give you a glimpse of the future and the truth. A dream can reveal a possibility of what might be. The dreamer is able to see the future with clarity, but it’s far less clear than what the actual event actually looks like. And that’s why, even though he tried hard to avoid dreaming as much as possible, sometimes, he found himself dreaming about the same exact thing over and over again. Sometimes, he couldn’t help himself. Sometimes, there

I mutter with a small smirk, brushing a hand through my hair like I didn't just bare my soul thirty seconds ago. We sit there for minutes, just the clinking of glasses and quiet music playing between us. He leans in again, eyes serious but soft. "What do you dream about?" "You mean... like at night, or in life?" "Both." I smile, heart racing. "At night? Sometimes I dream of running. Freedom. No responsibilities. Just me and the wind. In life? I guess... peace. Love that doesn't break me. A place that feels like mine." He swallows. Once. Hard. His throat bobs like he's choking something down, regret, maybe. Or a truth with too many teeth.

And so the dream spoke of victory, of beauty always remembered and how the selfish snake self became beautiful too. In the dream I am standing in a puddle, I am normal. Yet my reflection in the puddle, in the world of the upside-down, is a zombie. It is as if all this while I have been trying to achieve this very thing, to separate the good parts of me from the rotten. To dream so snug within a cottage-cocoon, to feel the sunlight that comes in welcome soon-ness to the budding day, births dreams of Iron Man made butterflies. Every wise hero realises that dreams come with price tags that have nothing to do with money. If heroic dreams were easy, if capes were free, everyone would have one and

Geez! Whenever I hit the moment, I thought about how Shanita would look when she was naked? How would I fuck her silly? Sometimes Shanita comes in my dreams naked and we do all kinds of things but when I about to have the main course, she disappears and my eyes get open. I hate when that happens when you are having a great dream and someone wakes you right in the middle

"Only oneironauts can move freely in the dream plain. A normal person can’t. If you even tried, your consciousness would disappear forever. It would fall into the void." There were many rules when it came to moving about the dreamscape, and it was imperative that those rules were remembered. It took me a long time to master being able to move around freely in dreams, but even I couldn’t shape a dream by myself; only Barren could. "Then bring those bastards to my dream."

In my dreams, there was no Dante, no betrayal, no lost child. I dreamed of freedom.

Her skin soft and warm against his, her breath on his chest, her hair smelled of lavender brushed under his chin. "You don't remember anything?" she couldn't imagine what he must've gone through. He shook his head, "I had a dream about it ... I think it was a glimpse of what I saw in that brief time I woke up in that room ..." he rubbed his face to wipe away the nightmare. "I don't want something like that to happen to you ... we can't risk it, your teacher is right, we have to get out of this contract." Charlie paused for a moment, she too had a confession to make. "About my teacher ..."

"Yes! I'm dreaming and I've been here for almost two days. I slept fine thinking I was going to wake up in my real life, but I am still dreaming. I find Tessa and Pearl here as handmaidens. strange. My father is a King, My mother is dead, and you... a Prince. It is very frustrating, I miss my Mom my friends, my life, and I don't know what that story of a stupid Diamond is supposed to mean to me!" She panted breathlessly, after pouring out the load in her heart. Dexter's mouth hung open in astonishment. "You are right, I won't understand." Ruby put her hands back on the rail and hung her shoulders in disappointment, at herself. Expecting someone in her dream would understand what it was like