Nightmares Poems Novels & Stories

Under the luminous glow of the full moon, Alex tossed and turned on his bed, ensnared in the clutches of the harrowing nightmare. Flashes of the explosions illuminated the darkness, casting eerie shadows that danced across the walls of his room. In the cacophony of war, Alex heard the anguished cries of his fellow soldiers, their voices echoing in his mind like a haunting melody.

ORSON’S POV Elora Amoh! The name had replayed in my head for years. For so many years. It stuck in my mind like that incident—the beautiful, innocent little Elora who would never hurt a bee. For so long, I had stayed in the shadows, watching her like a hawk, the guilt from years before threatening to tear my heart apart.

he asked looking directly into my eyes. “I guess it’s a mystery we will never be able to solve?” I replied. If I could read his mind, I’m sure he would be like just tell me this your name so I could drop all this problem on your head. Mother given name has never been used by Dreamers, it’s one of the rules that makes us different from other people who can travel through realms. If your real name was to be discovered, you would be locked up in a building and all your colleagues problem would be placed into your hands to solve for them and for centuries those that have fallen prey to divulging their names have always died before solving even one person’s problem. Well only one person has falle

The room felt suffocating, and beads of sweat clung to my skin, evidence of the turmoil within. I slowly opened my eyes, the remnants of the nightmare still haunting my thoughts. The moonlight filtered through the window, casting an ethereal glow that did little to dispel the lingering darkness. I sat up, the sheets clinging to my damp form. The nightmares were a cruel reminder of the pain I had endured, the scars that ran deeper than the physical wounds. I yearned for solace, a respite from the haunting memories that danced on the edges of my consciousness.

Didn't manage more than an hour before nightmares woke me up. Nightmares of three men in black. Of Lysander bleeding on my floor. Of losing the ring to people who'd use it for things I couldn't imagine. And hoped that whoever sent those men wasn't already planning their next attempt.

My world was on fire. My body, rising from the shadows of my grave, felt torn. My heart pumped no blood, My lungs breathed no air. I was still, like a thief in the night. I stumbled out of the hole in the ground and looked at my surroundings. Only darkness, no one in sight. As I stood there waiting for this nightmare to end Waiting for this nightmare to make sense, memories started to flood my mind. A man with beautiful blue eyes and hair as dark as his soul.

I added. Reece Morgan What are nightmares? Nightmares are those terrible dreams you have when your brain uses your imagination to bring your worst fears to life. It makes you scared, makes you sweat and it makes your heart beat faster until you can take it no more and your body forces you to wake up. You wake up and realize it wasn't real and your mind eases. It is scary but when you wake up you no longer feel scared of it because it's all a figment of your imagination.

Because your life is a nightmare you never thought it would be. I lived in that nightmare, and lost everything. My dreams. My heart. My soul. My body. And my voice. The problem with such nightmares are they follow you even when you are awake. My monsters are there in the shadows waiting to pull me back in the darkness I thought I had escaped.

Esmeralda Nightmares. Despite being at peace with my new life, I was disturbed by nightmares. Nightmares during the day, nightmares during the night and even in my sleep. It haunted me everywhere I went, lurking in the dark, seeking the slightest opportunity to pounce on me. It was so real, I almost had a panic attack. No matter how I try to dismiss it, her face keeps coming to my mind. It was stuck there, I couldn't erase it.

Only four girls were present, sound asleep, a testament to the hour. As Rithanya prepared her bed, set her alarm for 7 am, and settled in, her thoughts began to cascade into her dreams. In her slumber, a vivid and unsettling dream took hold—a scenario where she entered an examination hall, slightly late, and was met with a room full of students fervently writing. The weight of time pressed upon her, and she struggled to finish her exam. The aftermath of her performance was a shock—she scored the lowest marks, her classmates mocked her, and her parents' disappointment was palpable. The dream painted a portrait of failure and humiliation that left Rithanya gasping for air as she jolted awake w