Lucid Dreaming Books Novels & Stories

Tumbling in a crashing, cascading waterfall ‘round corners, hurtling downward into sudden calm. The almost imperceptible rustle of shadows clinging to corners. And whispers on the delicate, fraying edges of dream. Voices mumbling. Low. Impossible to hear, to understand. but there, nonetheless. Syllables caught, sometimes, if she were to listen. Yet sleep called, those tattered edges skirted, exhaustion enveloping her. The whispers now words saying There is no book as Eidolon coaxed her from day into dream. ***

Dylan had an epiphany at that moment, and an idea came to him. "Have you ever heard of Lucid Dreams?" “What is it?” “It's a club that caters to every need, or something along those lines. It is the coolest club I have ever been to. It's ideal for hanging out; you should look it up and we can hang out there. What are your thoughts?” “I will research it and get back to you.” “All right, just let me know when you make your decision.” Rita's phone rang at that moment, so she excused herself and returned later. He almost missed it because he was preoccupied with what he saw the last time he went to Lucid Dreams.

It left a dark circle on the floor and the fairies had disappeared into the red liquid. I shot up in terror and began to lose my balance from springing up so fast. I reached over and grabbed the desk to catch myself and I began to realize that my hand was getting warm, almost hot. I looked over as it launched into a full burn in my hand. I yanked my hand away, turned and bent over to investigate the book that I had rested my hand on. It was a black, bound book that looked almost like burnt flesh. As my face got close, the cover flipped open and pages began to turn. It stopped at a page in the middle and I looked closer to realize that everything was in a different language, Latin, maybe. As

If my handjob sucked, then I had to make it better, learn the best way to treat a cock, and whip him up with something he’ll never forget. “Noah”—his moans played in my head as I searched the shelf for something helpful. [The Faith of the Dragon Lair] [How to kill a dragon] [The Art of Fireflies] [An Omega’s Journal] My finger paused at the last book, “An Omega’s Journal.” It sounded intriguing and also felt like it was written from experience. I pulled the book out of the shelf, dusting it off and removing the particles in search of the author’s name. No name, no copyright claims… Who would leave something this private in a library?

Liam's voice is tight. Aldara doesn't answer immediately. She moves to another shelf. Pulls down a different text. Reads faster. "Aldara," Marcus says. "What did you find?" She looks up. Her ancient eyes are wide. Afraid. "The Dormant Luna isn't just a bridge between species," she says slowly. "She's a key." "A key to what?" I ask. Aldara sets the book down on the pedestal beside the lunar stone. Points to a passage written in larger script.

My fingers trace along a few promising books like ritual studies, old magic, psychic links—I’m impressed by the things they keep here, but none of them contain the detail I need. I need to find more. I desperately scour through the whole place, careful not to break the dust that blankets the shelves, so no one will notice that someone sneaked in here. Then, my eyes drift to a manuscript tucked behind a set of other old books. The title along the spine reads: Soul Tethers and Mate Imprints. My pulse skips as I pull it out and flip through the pages. This must be it! I’ve never snatched a book this fast in my life. I find a secluded corner of the study and lower myself to the floor, book in ha

The dreams, which Lior knows about not through direct access but through the specific quality of what the bond carries from Lucian's sleeping mind, the texture of active dreaming distinct from the texture of dreamless rest. The dreams have stopped. Lior confirms this on the seventh night after the ceremony, the bond transmitting from Lucian's sleeping presence only the smooth blank quality of dreamless rest, no texture, no movement, no evidence of the mind working through things in the way that sleeping minds do when they are alive and inhabited. On the ninth morning, Lior asks directly. "When did you last dream?" Lucian looks up from the morning correspondence. Considers the question with t

The second book I picked, Spells of the Wild: Mystical Incantations for Shape-Shifters," was boldly written on it. Seeing that spell on top of the book piqued my interest. I flipped the first page of the book; it was empty, as was the second page. It was until the last page that I found: do you want to delve into enchantments that blur the lines between human and beast, rituals that harness the magic of transformation, and secrets of the wild waiting to be unlocked? Look for moonlight enchantments. Isn’t this kind of crazy? I had thought I would be able to find something helpful here, and now it was referring to checking for some other book. Where do I find that? I sighed in resignation as I

I would certainly be warm, sleeping between two werewolves. “Okay,” I said, and slid onto the bed. I decided that Lucian had the right idea, and opened the e-book app on my phone. I had been reading a light hearted romance, but I didn’t want to give my libido any bright ideas so I switched to an adventure novel instead. “What are you reading?” Lucian asked. “Adventure,” I said, glad I’d decided against the romance, “It’s about a crew of pirates who travel the world in search of magical artifacts.”

My mind continued to spiral out of control, turning everything into a prison that compelled me to confront and repent of all that had happened. A psychiatrist I previously knew said that taking medicine on a daily basis may help break the pattern of lucid dreams. But I disliked the medicines and had discontinued my treatment plan without his consent. I was so confident that I could conquer this dreadful REM period by tiring myself during the day with nonstop travel and activities. Well, it seems that all that had transpired thus far had not exhausted me. And now my mind was doing the rest, bringing me down to the depths of tiredness and unspeakable anguish.