Requiem For A Dream Novels & Stories

She whispered. Her mother just seemed to follow a pattern, and that is when she figured it out what she really was. Her mother was a death echo and nothing more. She had only ever seen one death echo before, and now her mother would be the second one. Sage felt like walking up the street seeing more of her dream. She wanted to try and remember what day it was. Following the sidewalk, Sage was happy in her dream, and she knew that it was going to be hard to leave. There was no death and only light and happiness that was good enough for her.

We would go together. “Killian!” I tried to cry out, but no sound came. My throat was raw from the black tendrils, my body too weak to produce more than a whisper. He couldn’t hear me. Or maybe he just didn’t want to. And then, just like it did every night, the dream began its cycle again. Me on my knees. The rejection. The choking. The blood. My baby. Over and over and fucking over, each loop growing more and more vivid than the last. I could smell the damp earth beneath me, taste the metallic tang of blood in my mouth, feel every blackened finger as it pressed into my windpipe.

Henry asks while rubbing his eyes. "I did." I whisper as I lay my head back on the pillow. He sleepily places a chubby hand on my forehead and begins. "Bad dream, go away! Go aw...ay, go..." That's not how the song goes, but that he stops halfway to yawn and accidentally falls asleep, makes the ugliness of the dream fade away. Yeah, it doesn't matter, he’s dead. Every bad dream goes away thanks to you, my love. *** Christopher D’Amico

Come to me in the silence of the night; Come in the speaking silence of a dream; Come with soft rounded cheeks and eyes as bright As sunlight on a stream; Come back in tears, O memory, hope, love of finished years. O dream how sweet, too sweet, too bitter sweet, Whose wakening should have been in Paradise, Where souls brimfull of love abide and meet; Where thirsting longing eyes Watch the slow door That opening, letting in, lets out no more. Yet come to me in dreams, that I may live My very life again though cold in death:

Running through flowers. About the same age our baby would have been if— If we'd had it. If the accident hadn't happened. If I hadn't lost the pregnancy. I felt something cold settle in my chest. "That's what the dream was," I said slowly. "Wasn't it? It was our baby. The one I lost. My brain showing me what they would have looked like if—" "Scarlet—" "That's why you got quiet. Because you realized it too." Damian didn't deny it.

The Dreamer's voice answered. Not with rage. Not with hatred. Only pain. "Why?" Silence. The question carried billions of years of grief. Billions of years of loneliness. Billions of years of unanswered sorrow. Why? Why imprison me? Why betray me? Why leave me alone? Elias lowered his gaze. For the first time, genuine sadness crossed his face. "I wish there was a simple answer." The sanctuary remained silent. No one dared interrupt. No one dared breathe too loudly. The Dreamer's eye narrowed.

The onl‍y sound is the wind whistling through brok‌en steel. Finall‍y, he sighs. “If he’s‌ o⁠ut there, we’l‍l find him. But you can’t‍ burn yourself out waiti⁠ng.” I s⁠ha‌ke my head. “I’m not waiting.” My vo‍ice trembles. “I’m surviv‌in‍g. For him.” --- That nig‍ht, I dream of fire again. Bu⁠t thi⁠s ti‌me,‍ I see something‍ else—an⁠ ima⁠ge burned into my mind. Damon’s hand reaching for mine throu⁠gh smoke.‌ His voice echoing in the dis⁠t‍ance:

It turned out she knew everything. My music teacher once called me a prodigy, destined for Carnegie Hall. Saving Damian burned my hand, damaging the tendons irreversibly. I couldn't play the piano without shaking. My parents sold everything for my treatments, to no avail. I had to abandon my dream. With mounting debts weighing on him, my dad succumbed to illness. Unable to handle the grief, my mom took her life to join him. In the dead of night, when my hand throbbed, those memories haunted me.

“I’m ready.” With that, Ryder pressed a series of buttons on the control panel, and the heavy security doors slid open with a mechanical hiss. The room beyond was dimly lit, the shelves filled with thick binders and electronic terminals that hummed with activity. Eva stepped inside, her eyes immediately scanning the room. It wasn’t just the physical files they needed; it was the data. The heart of Project Requiem was buried in these walls—somewhere. She could feel it, just beneath the surface.

After we got engaged, my fiancee sent a child from abroad. She also sent an email along with it. [Noah, I was so bored overseas that I accidentally had a baby with Raivo Fallon. Since you’ve always been so eager to suck up to me, I’ll leave this child in your care. You can get some practice ahead of time so you’ll be ready to be our caregiver when I return home to Abrein.] Without a word, I handed the child over to the butler. Seven years later, all the CEOs stationed overseas returned to Abrein for their performance reviews. Laina Miller drove up in a Raypach, leading a large entourage that blocked me at the entrance to the Miller family residence. She held a cigarette between her li