Haunted By Dreams Novels & Stories

“Vivid dreams?” She nods her head. “I’ve been having vivid dreams, Ruin. Dreams that aren’t just dreams. I see entire lives played out in seconds—people I don’t know, places I’ve never been. I didn’t understand it at first and Halo mentioned it could be a side effect of ‘seeing’ again. But I realize now that I was seeing … their fates.”

It’s the voice that haunts my dreams, and fills my mind. Archer.

ADAIRA ** I had weird dreams. Dreams of wars and death that seemed more like memories I have lived through or will live through in the future. In every one of these dreams, I saw a different version of me, with white hair and white eyes. I saw my grandmother again, she was warning me to hurry, telling me that we were running out of time. I tried to ask her questions but I could not do so in my dream, it was like there was a barrier between us and she kept being pulled away from me and out of my reach.

You can't help me. That dream. That dream. She's still hunting me. What does she want from me? I didn't want that to happen. I'm sorry. My world is turning. My world is turning and turning. I see double. I'm getting dizzy. I'm seeing things. I'm seeing her. She's here. She's here with me. She's haunting me. I'm hearing her cry. I screamed as I covered my ears. I don't want to hear her. I hear her.

“I had a guess that after what happened to all of us in the pack, she kind of turned her back against us.” “Why would she do that?” “I’ve been having these dreams lately. I don’t know what those mean, but it’s a message, that’s for sure.” I stared at him in surprise. So it wasn’t just me who was being haunted by these unusual nightmares. They were a shared experience. Maybe it’s the Goddess's way of reaching out? I was about to say something when Harvey squinted his eyes in the distance and said, “Is that… the chaperone?”

But then I was. “We have to go home, Sister,” Sasha said softly. I didn’t want to go back home. I didn’t want to be alone. Yet, I felt so fucking alone no matter where I was or who I was with. Except for the damn ghosts haunting me. They were in my mind, thriving. Torturing me. And when I slept, my mind revolted. I couldn’t understand my dreams… memories… or paranoia. “You’ll stay with me.” I shook my head wordlessly. I couldn’t let anyone hear my dreams. I couldn’t let anyone know.

But at night, whenever I walked past their bedroom, I could always hear them sighing softly, one after another. For the next two months, I tried as hard as I could not to think about Jason and not to dwell on the past. But every night, the feelings would surge inside of me. And then, there was the pain in my breast that kept flaring up. I barely slept at all. Before I knew it, the year was ending. The worst part about visiting relatives was all the nosy questions. They were either asking me if I was still playing matchmaker, or about how much I had earned last month.

Two souls tangled for centuries, now standing at the edge of their last chance. But no amount of training kept the nightmares away. Every night, Lena slipped into dreams of other lives old faces, forgotten places, the shadow of loss clinging to her like a second skin. And with each night, the dreams pressed in darker, heavier, until she woke gasping and drenched in sweat. And every night, Damien was pulled into them against his will. He arrived at her door again on the seventh night, shirt half-buttoned, sweat beading across his temple, chest rising and falling in rapid breaths.

Insanity is visible in her eyes. Like a ghastly lady hugging herself in a corner of the room that is enough to fit ten families from the border. Morrigan seemed to be so small in her room, however, she could feel how the cloud of fear grows within her. Making the room feel like it was smaller than it was. Her dreams haunt her, the way Colfre remained motionless in the middle of the rubble and the aftermath of war. With him kneeling as if he was praying, with a dagger piercing his heart, and her beautiful hazel eyes void of emotion and life. A corpse left to be kneeling upright to the gods. The crows in her dreams are like vultures, watching the surroundings below them keenly, waiting for the

Even the distant thunder rolling across the sky felt too quiet, swallowed by the weight of memory. No, no, no… The images from the dream hadn’t faded. They were still etched into the back of her mind—chaos, the sound of screams, and her own voice, useless and unheard. The man in her dreams, his face distorted by memory but no less terrifying, hovered at the edges of her vision. His voice was still in her ears. Cruel. Cold. A voice that had once shaped her reality with fear.