Looking In The Mirror In A Dream Novels & Stories

My heart ached, but I didn’t care. Whatever it was that was causing the ache didn’t matter. What mattered was reality and in that reality, there was no way I could ever give my heart to a man of that nature. Ever. Besides, I had other things to worry about. Like the strange dream I had where I saw myself locked in a mirror. It made no sense but it wouldn’t leave my mind. It even felt as if I was in some kind of conversation with them, although I had no idea what we talked about.

I then say, staring into her eyes, as she scrambles to grab a mirror from her bag fuzzing over her face. “You lair, I look as I always do. You're just saying nonsense”She says laughing out. “They say a mirror reflects the better version of a person's appearance . But look at yourself in the mirror all I see is obsession, hate and a lot of crazy darling and that isn't healthy”I say, before grabbing my bags as I started marching out before her words stop me in my tracks. “Remember my promise right?"She says as she moves towards me, staring at me.

My eyes widened in horror. "What is that?" I asked aloud. My voice pitched with nothing but fear. I felt a rush of adrenaline running through my veins as goosebumps filled my whole skin. I don't know how long I lay on the floor, but I managed to stand on my feet after some time and slowly walked towards the mirror. My eyes widened as I could not believe what I was seeing. "How is it possible that I am seeing the same face I thought to be me in the dream I had last night in the mirror?"

“What is it?” I stepped forward, hesitant but determined. “I know it might sound ridiculous, but… I saw someone. A man. In my mirror this morning. Grey hair, stormy eyes, but not old. He wasn’t just a reflection either—he was there. Staring at me. And then he just disappeared.” Aurora’s expression didn’t change much, but I saw it—just a flicker, a shift in her eyes. She wasn’t surprised. “Mirrors,” she said slowly, “aren’t always what they seem. Especially not to someone… awakening.”

And that night, I dreamed of a mirror. Not an ordinary one, but one framed in antique gold—the mirror from the manor, the one that had reflected the faces of hundreds of brides before they were murdered on their wedding night. In my dream, that mirror stood in the attic of my new home. And behind my reflection... was another woman. Wearing a bridal gown. Her face looked exactly like mine—but her lips stretched into a smile too wide, held too long... until blood began to drip from the corners of her mouth. I woke up gasping.

Just fear, darkness and the feeling that something is coming for me and sometimes I wonder if it means something. If dreams like that are warnings or maybe it is just my mind playing cruel games on me, I stare at my reflection in the mirror, dark circles sit beneath my eyes, my face looks pale, tired and haunted. “Miss, hurry, she is getting edgy,” Sarah says from outside my door.

When I straightened up and looked in the mirror, my blood turned to ice. There, just visible under my skin like faint tattoos, were the symbols from my dream. They were glowing softly along my arm, pulsing in time with my heartbeat. They were real. They were actually real. "What's happening to me?" I whispered to my reflection. The marks pulsed brighter, as if they were answering. I reached out to touch the mirror, and my reflection did something impossible. It smiled back at me with eyes that glowed silver in the dark. I screamed and stumbled backward, but when I looked again, it was just me. No glowing eyes or silver light.

The figure in the mirror was standing, breathing softly, eyes turned toward her bedroom. Then it blinked and was gone. The mirror showed only her bed. The empty room. She sat upright, heart racing, trying to steady her breath. “You’re dreaming,” she murmured. “You’re still dreaming.” But she wasn’t. The air was too sharp, too real. She went to the bathroom, forcing herself to look. The mirror showed her face. Pale, tired, strands of hair clinging to her cheek. She stared for a long time, waiting for it to move. It didn’t.

No, it doesn’t mean that I need to go and tidy myself up while looking at it. My eyes scan the mirror back and forth trying to find the smallest little hint of the people on the other side watching me. However, I can’t see a thing. Not even the slightest little bit of light is visible through the glass. My mind shifts from Chris to the possible number of people behind the mirror.

So, I am not able to see the one standing behind the mirrors of the room, but they can see me and communicate with me. Four mirror-like walls are enclosing this room: the mirror of reality, the mirror of fear, the mirror of sins and guilt and the mirror of retribution and punishment. The first mirror is the mirror of reality. That one is displaying the true self of the one imprisoned. I looked at that one and… goddamn, do I look like shit, I look like long haired butterfaced ogre, all swollen, with broken bones jutting through my lacerated skin, which was plagued with cuts and bruises. My hair is knotted, sticky, and full of blood and dust. It is matted, dirty and all over the place. I look