My Dream Book Novels & Stories

she even commented it on me, as she clarified herself on what she wanted from me now. “As what could you see, I was reading a book seriously earlier, and you all of a sudden emerge from nowhere. How can you tell I am in depth of my thoughts?” I presented the book to my face again, even though I wasn’t really reading it actually. In reality, I was thinking about my dream last night and bothered owing to the fact that it seemed to be really true. I don’t know. I just find it weird in the first place. Why would I be dreaming such nonsense dream in the first place? When in reality, Dralia is mine and mine alone. No one can have her except me. And no one can keep her away from me instead. I would

"That is because there is none and there never was. I can't believe you actually believe what I said about this book lying here for a century without being read by a single person. Take a look at the top of the book. What does it says?" "Christmas songs!" "What is the month now?" "October." "It is good that you actually know we are yet to get to December. Now, drop the book where you saw it." "Alright," Goodness obeyed. It is rational to assume that Goodness just made up this dream because it actually doesn't makes sense to me. What is inside the book? Who is the blonde woman? I don't know why I remembered the dream he told me about today but it was better than remembering about Clag's death

I like to think of it all as a terrible dream I might one day wake from. But there is one dream that does haunt me most. In this dream, my fever has broken, and Jessamine is asleep on the chair across from me. She’s in a nightdress, and there’s a book covering her face with an obscene cover. In this dream, my hands and feet aren’t bound, and I can walk just fine without tripping on my vomit. I hover over Jessamine and pull the book back from her sleeping face.

Nora stood with the book, scribbling into it which the figure also read and smiled then handed Nora another small patterned pouch which made her smile wickedly, her eyes sparkling with malice and wickedness. I will say, the dream felt like a warning or just a glimpse into a sinister plot that has to do with that book but all the same it was fearful. I remembered it had been a while since I experienced any dream talk less of a vivid dream. She hoped it wasn't back with a vengeance as she wasn't ready for another circle of vivid dreams

A Dream House (Continuation) I sat on the beige colored tiled floor of the living room. And I looked around me, the ceilings are neatly painted white, while the walls are covered with medium toned brown wallpapers. I opened another box. From the box I pulled out lots of books, maybe fifty to seventy of them. The books come in different forms, big and small, thin and thick. Our book collection includes about twenty five of Mallory’s bedtime story books, a New King James bible version, a children’s bible, and there is one of my favorite books; Ikigai: The Japanese Secret to a Long and Happy Life, also my favorite novels from Mitch Albom; Tuesday with Morrie and Five People You Meet in Heave

As the first light of dawn painted the sky, Drew and Jette faced the uncertain day ahead—a day that held the promise of unraveling the mysteries that lingered in the shadows of dreams and the echoes of a past that seemed to resurface in the most unexpected ways. The dawn broke with hues of soft pinks and golds, casting a gentle glow upon the apartment as Jette and Drew sat on the edge of their bed, grappling with the residual unease from the night's disturbance. The old journal, a silent witness to the unfolding events, lay between them like a bridge between reality and the inexplicable. "Drew," Jette began, her voice tinged with a mixture of apprehension and determination, "the book from my

I guess I had too much stress these past few days. I sighed as I covered my face with my hands. I wanted to brush it off as a mere dream, just like usual. But for some reason, there's something different about it this time. Somehow, it felt more real than usual. My brain tried to replay the last few scenes of my dreams. As I left the haze of my dream land, I had a vision of Bella hiding some sort of book in a secret compartment inside a bigger book. The real Bella.

Nobody in my memory matched him at all. Then one night, after yet another late shift, I was scrolling through my phone like a zombie when a pop-up appeared out of nowhere. It had a cheap glittering border, the whole nine yards, a classic bottom-of-the-barrel web ad. It was for some app I had never heard of called Astra. I was about to close it when my finger froze in midair for three full seconds. The model on the landing page looked exactly like the man from my dreams. I could not bring myself to close it. Instead, I kept reading.

Arcane symbols stitched into the spine. “Try this,” he said, sliding it across the table. “It’s an old dream-tracing grimoire. From the southern libraries. It maps dream entities through their energy signatures. Might tell you what’s visiting you. Or who.” I didn’t reach for it. “I’m not making a deal with you,” I said. “No,” he said, voice softer now. “But I believe you might want to figure this out that much.” Silence stretched between us. I stared at the book then at him then back at the flickering candles.

“The moment her craving for my blood returns, she’ll come crawling back. She can’t last long without me.” I started the engine and floored it. He was dreaming. This time, it was goodbye for good. There was no turning back.