Strange The Dreamer Series Novels & Stories

STELLA’S POV “No… no… please…!” I jerked awake with a sharp scream, my chest rising and falling rapidly, my body drenched in sweat. For a moment, I didn’t know where I was. My eyes darted around the room, searching… expecting to see her. But there was no one. I swallowed hard, placing a trembling hand on my chest. “It was just a dream.” I whispered to myself. But it didn’t feel like one. I have been feeling restless and having terrible nightmares ever since that day in the kitchen, the day I heard her conversation with someone on the phone.

But it had ended all too quickly for my liking and I don’t know what to think about this new boy Cooper. While I had been unconscious I had had a dream about a boy that looks exactly the same as Cooper, and in that dream he had been trying to kill Natalie and in the end I had killed Cooper, just as he went to kill Natalie. I wonder what this means? Is someone manipulating me? I don’t know but whatever it was I would have to forget about it and move on.

Yet it felt undeniable. ⸻ “Who are you?” Ilyaan asked. ⸻ The stranger looked toward the endless horizon. ⸻ Then answered. ⸻ “The person you’ve been searching for.” ⸻ Silence. ⸻ “The Real Dreamer.” ⸻ 🌌 ⸻ 🌙 No Crown, No Throne Ilyaan expected something impossible. A cosmic being. A god. A monster. ⸻ Instead… The Dreamer sat down beside the ocean of light.

Beside me, I saw the corner of Cassius’s mouth twitch as he fought, and failed, to suppress a grin. “I dream of it, sometimes,” the vendor sighed, clasping her hands to her chest and gazing at some unseen horizon. “A dashing stranger sweeping me away from Glens Crossing for a life of adventure.” Her focus snapped back to us. “This is the newest in the series. Simply divine.” I rested a hand on the book, a convenient prop. “Speaking of strangers,” I began, flipping a page, “have you noticed any… unusual travelers? Perhaps someone who seemed a bit out of place?”

Imagine living in a world full of fiery, feral beings, hiding in the shadows, roving in our dreams, creeping under our skin. Eavesdropping, manipulating our minds, and exploring our bodies. They are savages, beasts but some of them are companions and childhood friends. Some are dangerous, others even more dangerous. They live amongst us. Some of us call them Demons, vampires but some of them should never be called…. There is one man. A mysterious silver-eyed stranger who keeps appearing in her dreams. Who is he and what does he want? Is he a friend or an enemy?

"Every time you're near, I get hard. So fucking hard it hurts. I want to bend you over this table and bury myself inside you until you scream. I shouldn't want to fuck a stranger, but my cock doesn't seem to care who you are." The crude words sent a rush of heat straight to my pussy. "You shouldn’t—" I couldn't manage more, my throat closing around the word. "I dream about you," he continued, voice rough with frustrated desire. "A goddamn stranger. I wake up with my cock so hard I can barely walk. And the worst part? I'm calling for a woman who isn't here. A ghost. Why is that, Dr. Graham?" How the fuck am I supposed to know that?

"What the fuck just happened?" Ingrid blinks. Her eyes are blue-white and aglow. Mine are hot gold. "I think we just bonded." "No shit," I gasp. There is applause. One slow clap. Another. My head snaps up. There's a person standing beside the archway. My blood runs cold. It isn't Corven. "Incredible," the stranger says. His face is hidden behind a black hood. "Two daughters of flame and dream. The veil's worst nightmare." I slowly rise, placing myself between Ingrid and the stranger.

The room was deathly silent except for the frantic beat of my heart in my ears. His low voice and the one from my dreams overlapped, weaving into a single key that unlocked my carefully built self-deception with a sharp click. He was Mr. Y—the man who sang off-key love songs to me at midnight, and the very same one who had chastised me relentlessly in the day. I stared at him. His handsome face was so close, and the usual coldness and distance were gone, replaced by a fragile, pleading vulnerability. The light in his eyes flickered like a candle tossed all night by a stormy wind.

The young Dreamer looked embarrassed. “Nothing.” The boy glanced at the little stars in the sand. “They don't look like nothing.” The Dreamer hesitated. Then he whispered: “I think they're stories.” The boy smiled wider. “Then tell me one.” The memory ended. Ama gasped. The quiet voice beyond the door spoke again. He always wanted someone to listen. The First Dreamer finally answered. And you always wanted one more story. A strange warmth passed between the two voices. Not anger.

Wolf: “What? Really? But my sexual orientation is very normal.” Dreamer: “Who cares if you are a man or woman? Now, as long as he is rich, even he is a man, he can also love the vain and shallow person.” Asher: “Dreamer are you jealous? Are you blaming Master Lucifer for not liking you? I think you cooperated well with Master Lucifer when you were fighting the Boss. Do you like Master Lucifer?” Dreamer: “Bullshit! It’s getting outrageous! Even if I like man, I will only like Master QEEN, a real man.” (QEEN= Quickly Eliminating Enemies).