To Dwell On Dreams And Forget To Live Novels & Stories

"It was. At first. We preserved our childhoods. Our loved ones. Our happiest moments. We could revisit them anytime. Relive them completely. Feel exactly what we felt then." "But?" "But we started living in memory more than reality. Started spending more time in what was than what is. Started preferring preserved perfection to messy present. Until one day—" He flickered, became almost transparent. "—we realized we'd become memories ourselves. Started forgetting how to exist in the present. Started losing solidity. Started becoming echoes." Through the network, I felt it. Felt the entire reality. Felt millions of people living in their memories. Reliving their pasts. Unable to exist in their

I reach out to his arm-completely ignoring what he has said- and caress the cut he has, “What if when we wake up, I won’t remember you?” I remember what they told me earlier that when people usually wake up from this dream, they will also forget everything that has happened here just like a dream so they can go on with their lives guiltless and embarrass-free. “I don’t want to forget what we have built during this, Harris. As much as it has been horrifying, I want to keep the memories I have with you.”

Chapter 6 Mere khwabon ki Aarthi par Apne khwabo ki doli sajana Tumhari chahat thi Par tum ye bhul gaye Ki kisiko khwabo ko torkar Tumhare apne khwab bhi Kabhi pura nahi honge. ~Ankita Ghosh (on my pyre of my dreams you wanted to decorate your dreams. But you forgot that If you break someone's dream then you won't be able to fulfill your dreams as well)

"Jette, dreams can be powerful, but they are not prophecies. They're echoes of our thoughts and emotions. Maybe this dream is a reflection of something within you that needs attention. Let's navigate it together, piece by piece." Jette nodded, finding comfort in Drew's wisdom and the unwavering support he offered. As the night wore on, they delved into the intricacies of the dream, dissecting its symbolism and unraveling the emotions it had stirred. In the shared vulnerability of that moment, Jette felt a profound connection that transcended the boundaries of dreams and reality. Before they drifted into the arms of sleep, Jette whispered a quiet wish into the stillness of the night, "I hope

'True happiness is to enjoy the present, without anxious dependence upon the future, not to amuse ourselves with either hopes or fears but to rest satisfied with what we have, which is sufficient, for he that is so wants nothing. The greatest blessings of mankind are within us and within our reach. A wise man is content with his lot, whatever it may be, without wishing for what he has not. Forget yesterday - it has already forgotten you. Don't sweat tomorrow - you haven't even met. Instead, open your eyes and your heart to a truly precious gift - today.'

We can only be there for them when the time comes. One thing life has taught me is that in life we shouldn't live to please others, live to please ourselves. Do things according to you at your own time, not when someone wants. They are only holding you back, get out there, and do your thing. No matter how hard life gets, remind yourself that someone died today, someone slept with an empty stomach last night, someone achieved their dreams today, someone is on a hospital list hoping to get a kidney and you are lucky to be alive and healthy.

She said. “Kala please, please, hello, hello?" She said but was too late she had already dropped the call. What at all is this. She frustratedly asked herself. Kent opened a poetry book lying beside him. It opened to a poem that caught his attention. It read; Live for today, hope for tomorrow And forget about yesterday 'I CAN'T ' for those are the words of a coward And remember 'I WILL TRY' for those Are the words of a potential winner? The only way you can regret yesterday is

Later, when the fire burns low and people drift home in uneven clusters, Arthur and I walk the long way back. “You know,” he says, “they’ll forget us entirely one day.” “I hope so,” I reply. He stops walking. Look at me. “You mean that.” “I do.” He nods, understanding. Forgetting is not a loss. It is proof of transfer. That night, I dream without symbols. No light. No boundaries. No humming presence. I dream of waking up and choosing again. In the morning, a letter waits at the door. Not sealed. Not urgent.

I reminded myself. "Why?" I jumped at the voice from behind me. "Ah! You." I sighed holding my racing heart. I almost got a minor attack. "A dream is not something you see to forget and discard. It stays with you until you get it. You can never be at peace until you've accomplished it." He said. "People get greedy when they dream." I reminded. "Why? U don't believe in yourself?." "Nope." I simply shrugged. He sighed shaking his head. "Why are women so stupid?"

Soon, I kill whatever's left of the man who used to dream about something different. I should go to bed, get some sleep before the biggest day of my life. Instead, I pour another whiskey and toast the empty room. "To duty," I say aloud, my voice echoing off the walls. "And to the death of my dreams."