Story Of Dreams Novels & Stories

“If I knew, I would fix it. I can’t stop getting enough blood. I feel like a bus ran over me. Literally, I feel like I was hit by a bus. Those dreams were so real, so powerful, and I can’t shake them, Alex. I never, ever, have had anything feel like this before. I woke up a pool of sweat and took a shower once already. I feel like a wreck, and all I can do is think about Amber.” “Wow, Dom, that is crazy. I didn’t realize that. I don’t think I have ever heard you say anything about dreaming before.” “No, I hadn’t. I had this vision, which sucked a lot of energy from me. I then fell asleep, which just became a trap. I was stuck in a wonderfully, erotic, real, intense, and I don’t have the word

ADAIRA ** I had weird dreams. Dreams of wars and death that seemed more like memories I have lived through or will live through in the future. In every one of these dreams, I saw a different version of me, with white hair and white eyes. I saw my grandmother again, she was warning me to hurry, telling me that we were running out of time. I tried to ask her questions but I could not do so in my dream, it was like there was a barrier between us and she kept being pulled away from me and out of my reach.

If I didn’t tell him what he wanted to hear, he’d keep on asking until I confessed. “I had a dream that three wolves — I couldn’t see their faces — were chasing me and trying to take my baby away from me.”

I didn't think my mother had ever told me a single bedtime story, so I knew it was my lonely childhood being manifested into my dreams. "I know you love her." The lovely whispered in my head and I immediately knew this female voice was talking about Zara. She had to talk about Zara because there was no one else I loved or wanted to be with. "She will come back soon. You are a good man and you deserve her." The voice continued to whisper in my head and I felt good knowing that this voice believed that I was good enough for Zara. If anything, she was too good for me and me. This voice was reassuring me that Zara would give me a chance in the future and that was all I wanted, a chance, with her

I routinely slapped a pain-relief patch onto my wrist before packing my things to head back to the dorms. The conductor approached me. “Naomi, we have a change of plans. Someone is taking your place. “I’m afraid you won’t be joining us for the performance next week.” … My mind went blank. From the age of seven to twenty-one, I went through fourteen years of tough seasons, just to gain this opportunity. I was just one step away from realizing my dream and fulfilling my mother’s dying wish. Yet now… Gritting my teeth, I asked heart-wrenchingly, “Sir, may I know who has been given my role?”

“Just the bathroom.” Mom hums, unconcerned, and goes back to the stove. I take a bite of toast. Chew slowly. Let the silence stretch. “I slept great,” I announce to no one in particular. “Better than I have in months, actually. Really deep. I don’t think I moved all night.” Ethan chokes on his orange juice. Jack drops his fork. “That’s nice, honey,” Mom says without looking up. “Yeah.” I smile sweetly at my stepbrother, who’s gone pale as a ghost. “I had the most interesting dream, too. But I can’t quite remember it. Isn’t that weird? When you have a really good dream, but you can’t remember the details?”

--- As the afternoon passed, Leo's questions became more serious. They always did eventually. Children were curious about everything. The world. Life. People. The future. Leo stared at the sky for a moment. Then he asked quietly, "Mama, what is a dream?" Naomi blinked. The question surprised her. "A dream?" Leo nodded. "People always talk about dreams." Naomi looked thoughtful. Then she smiled. "I think a dream is something your heart hopes for." Leo considered this carefully. "So your paintings are your dream?" Naomi looked down at him.

“Hush, child. You must have had a terrible dream after running off. The guards found you unconscious at the edge of the woods just before dawn. They brought you straight home. You were muttering about red eyes and shadows, but no one saw any beast. The Choosing is still tonight. Everything is as it should be.” I shook my head frantically. “It wasn’t a dream. He spoke to me. He said… ‘Mine.’ He licked me and—” I stopped, mortified, as fresh slickness pulsed at the memory. My shift clung damply to my thighs. It had been real. I could still taste his dark musk on the air. Mother’s brow furrowed with gentle confusion. “You’ve always had vivid dreams, especially when you’re frightened. Rest now.

"It's your night. You have to figure it out." "I've been trying for two hours. She's hysterical. Something's wrong." I take her. She clings to me. Sobbing. "What's wrong, baby? What happened?" "The person. From the window. They're in my dreams. They keep trying to tell me something." "What are they trying to tell you?" "I don't know. I can't understand them. But they're so sad. So lonely. They need help." This again. The mysterious watcher. "Mira, dreams aren't real. It's just your imagination."

“That makes it easier sometimes. Strangers do not get mad or judge.” So I told him. I told him about the dreams. About wanting someone I should not want. About seeing that someone with a girl who was perfect for him. “And last night I had a new dream,” I said. “It felt so, so real. Like he was really there touching me and meaning all the words. But when I wake up, real life is all mixed up and hurts.” “Maybe the dreams are showing you what is true,” he said in a soft voice. “Maybe what you saw with the other girl is not the full story.”