Novel & Cerita Scattered Dreams

Still this could work for you, couldn’t it? ‘In what way? I looked into my mate’s dream- bad dreams!’ ‘And if they were not just any dream?’ Fenris raised a brow at the suggestion. ‘What if that ‘dream' you had was more than just a dream? Think about it, Fenris. If that was just any dream, you wouldn’t find those scars on her.’ His eyes slowly widened, as he caught on to what his father was saying. ‘Dreams can be many things. One of these things is-‘

Eyes. Not normal ones. Not human ones. The kind of eyes that see through you. The kind that remember your scent, your heartbeat, the exact rhythm of your breath. They weren’t everywhere, but they were enough. I shook it off. Told myself I was being paranoid. That maybe the bond with Jude had made me too sensitive. Or maybe the dreams were bleeding into my real life. Because the dreams… They were getting worse. They started normal enough. Blurry. Confusing. Then sharper. Vivid. I would be walking through a forest of glass trees or drowning in black oceans. I’d see fangs. Fire. A throne made of bones. Always from a distance.

he says. “I didn’t call for you.” “You didn’t need to.” He steps forward slowly, like a cat crossing a battlefield. His eyes flick down my body and I realize I’m only wearing the thin slip I sleep in. One strap already falling from my shoulder. I don’t adjust it. I want him to look. And he doesn’t disappoint. “Scarlett’s dreams are leaking,” he says. “She’s burning from both ends. You caught some of the overflow.” “Why?”

“Don’t worry. We’ll figure this out. I’m glad you told me, but you’re too exhausted to get answers tonight, so let’s get some rest. We can call home tomorrow and you can talk to my mom to see if she knows anything. Rieka smiles, and though it doesn’t reach her eyes, it’s genuine. I take her lips again, and she melts into me. ----- RIEKA The dreams I’ve been having are unpredictable. Sometimes I’ll have a dream every night for a week, then I won’t have any dreams that I remember for at least 3 weeks. I’ve had the same dream with slight variations a few times, but then I’ve had other dreams only once.

Hands grip my knees and gently part them. Wide. Wider. Until I’m completely exposed, my most private parts on display for four sets of hungry eyes in the darkness of my childhood bedroom. “She’s so wet,” Tyler whispers. “Look – it’s on her thighs. It’s fucking everywhere. She was definitely dreaming about something.” You, I think, fighting to keep my breathing steady. I was dreaming about you. About all of you. About exactly this. “Spread her more,” Jack breathes. “I want to see everything.”

Sandra traced the edges of one photo, the image capturing the essence of their dreams, as if the lens had frozen a moment of shared aspiration. In the room, shadows danced along the walls, painting a vivid tableau of two young souls fueled by wanderlust and the unbridled joy of companionship. Sandra's stories unraveled like a cherished tapestry, weaving through the fabric of time, each memory etched into the very air they breathed. As Sandra spoke, the room became a vessel of shared dreams—a place where the world seemed both expansive and conquerable. The laughter of their youth lingered, painting the room with the hues of friendship and the indomitable spirit of two kindred spirits bound by

The Forgotten Mate 1. The Masquerade Rejection. Dreams are elusive, fleeting moments of solace that transport us to a realm untouched by the hardships of reality. In my dreams, I find refuge. I am a child again, innocent and carefree, surrounded by the warmth of my family's love. I see their smiles, hear their laughter, and bask in the joy that once filled our humble home. But dreams, no matter how vivid, always fade away. And as I awaken, the cruel reality of my existence comes crashing down upon me like an unforgiving wave.

Andrea's dreams had been a jumble of fragmented images and emotions, but one theme persisted: the laboratory. She'd find herself strapped to a table, surrounded by cold, sterile equipment, with a scientist looming over her. The scientist's face was always obscured, but Andrea's fear was palpable. She'd try to scream, but her voice would be muffled, and she'd wake up with a start. The dreams recurred, each one a variation on the same theme. But as the days passed, Andrea began to notice something strange. The scientist's face, though still obscured, seemed...familiar. She couldn't quite place it, but the feeling grew stronger with each passing day.

The fragmented being trembled weakly. “Not in words.” A pause. “In absence.” That explained absolutely nothing. And somehow made the dreams worse. The shard of the eye floated near the ceiling lazily. Though Luke noticed it no longer wandered far from populated realities. As if even possibility itself dislikes being alone now. The shard spoke quietly: “The dreams are contact.” Nyra looked horrified. “You said the crack closed.” “It did.” The shard rotated slowly. “But awareness remains.” Luke rubbed his exhausted face. “So what exactly is it doing?”

Megan walked toward her desk trying to bide her time until she could figure out what to do, she knew that she was in her own head. “Have you been reading those horror books again?” Eric looked confused as he picked up an old leather-bound book with Latin scribbled across it. “You know it always messes with your dreams.” Megan stood up tall at the word “dreams.” Why would Eric have said that? She knew that they have never talked about her dreams and that was because he would go screaming into the night with what was in her head. “Really? You got to be fucking kidding me?” Megan cocked her hip out in frustration while she tapped her foot. “So, now you are changing forms now?”