Lucid Dreaming Books Novels & Stories

After the boys had left my room, I went through my bag and pulled out my favorite book, Night Flame, by Catherine Hart. I sat back in my chair by the window, prepared to spend the rest of the afternoon reading when a shiver ran down my spine. I jumped out of my seat and spun around to see a pair of yellow eyes glowing in the corner of the room. As those eyes drew closer to me, I realized that it was Simon, the fae that came to warn me the other day.

“Yes, it's there amongst the books that I brought.” I looked amongst the books on the table. There lay a red book with the title ‘the art of seduction’ in golden letters. I looked at it for a while but then decided to go back to the art of war. Right now helping Lucius was my only priority. “Shall I prepare you for sleep My Lady?” “No, I'll read some more and wait for Lucius.” I said, Ylva nodded and left.

For the first time in human history we had an enemy that we could not easily deal with, and we owed that to two parties. For one, there is the well-known and infamous Doctor Christopher Krynick, the creator of these creatures. His intentions had been honorable, but he hadn't had the patience to give his research time to develop. He had fussed, wanted to develop a medicine that would take away the fear of deformity and mental retardation of their babies from expectant mothers.

Countless shelves lined with weathered books and scrolls stretched into the distance, promising untold secrets and forgotten wisdom. They made their way through the labyrinthine aisles, their eyes scanning the titles and searching for any mention of Lycans or black magic. Dust danced in the rays of sunlight that filtered through stained glass windows, lending an ethereal quality to their journey. Finally, they discovered a section dedicated to ancient legends and forbidden knowledge. The books here were wrapped in worn leather, their pages delicate and yellowed with age. Rey's fingers traced the spines until they settled upon a tome titled "The Chronicles of Shadows: Unveiling the Secrets of

The book said nothing about a cure, so perhaps there was some other piece of knowledge I'd need to search for. Either way, I grabbed my salve, realizing it was one of the last doses. I only had two more following this, so hopefully, I could take care of multiple things in this trip. Searching the library for another book on these things may be helpful. I thought that over while splashing water on my face, exhaling slowly. This was it. I hadn't gotten much sleep, as usual, given the circumstances. The little sleep I did get treated me to nightmares. I couldn't stop seeing Lucy as some monster, lunging for me and trying to rip me to shreds.

Theresa was old enough to have experience, but looked young enough to please Salem’s eyes—two key requirements for a housekeeper in his home. “Where is Salem now?” I asked. A good feeding would soothe my nerves. “He’s not at home, my lady. I couldn’t tell you.” Grumbling, I headed to Salem’s library. Perhaps he had a book I could entertain myself with. Once there, I found a book lying open on a desk. It was titled Mythic Bloodlines: Lost & Fabled Lilitu. Curious, I studied an illustration on the open page. It depicted a trio of strange-looking women, just like the ones Salem had been painting all this time. The accompanying text stated:

The ceiling is pitch dark, as usual! The beep of the alarm clock is where the dream breaks every time. It has broken a zillion times over the last eighteen years. When I had seen this for the first time, while writing the novella, which I had burnt after the break-up with Junali, it wasn’t as clear as I see it now. Back then, it was just a quick monochromatic movie-clip kind of a thing, where Mr Rushdie congratulated me on winning the coveted prize. As years passed by, the dream also gained more clarity. Especially after I had started reading profiles and biographies of Booker winners published in newspapers and magazines. In fact, in the last one and a half months, watching interviews of th

Chapter 8 - Sore Loser Lilith I felt like I was in a lucid dream; maybe it was from all the alcohol I consumed or from the lack of sleep I got while being here, but I swore I felt magic in the air. It felt like static electricity as it brushed against my skin, making my hairs stand on end.

"Now we're going to see how well you can multitask." He pulled his fingers out and brought them to my mouth. "Taste yourself. Suck them clean." I took his fingers into my mouth, tasting my own arousal, salty and musky. "Good girl." He pulled his fingers out and reached for his bag on the table. Pulled out a book—Discipline and Punish. "Open to page 195," he said. "The section on docile bodies." I stared at him. "What?" "You said you fantasize about reciting theory while I touch you. So that's what we're going to do. You're going to read Foucault out loud while I make you come again. And if you stop reading, I stop touching you. Understand?"

“If it isn’t little Lia the nerd. Come to watch the show?” “I—I’m sorry,” she stammered, clutching her books tighter. Her nipples hardened against her bra. “I didn’t mean to—” “But you’re not leaving.” He turned fully toward her now, cock still in hand, bold and unashamed. A bead of precum glistened at the slit. “You like what you see, don’t you?” Lia’s mouth went dry. Her pussy throbbed. She had touched herself hundreds of times thinking of him, but this was real.