What Dreams May Come Novels & Stories

My mom thought I was on drugs and I think she was seriously considering buying an at home drug test. I’ve obviously slept since then, and no dreams like that have happened again. I had a dream that I was a mermaid trapped in disney world, and I swear, I could see the guy from the field standing outside my tank, watching me with those blue eyes that captured the moon so perfectly. I mean I know he had said he was from my dreams but... I heard that you can’t dream about someone you haven’t seen before, so where did he come from originally? A magazine maybe? Social media? Just a random attractive stranger that my mind weirdly clung onto? Is it possible that my mind captured a snapshot of some r

Just the sound of small feet dragging over marble tiles. John looked up. “Hey. Shouldn’t you be asleep?” Saint didn’t answer. He stood there, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt, eyes heavy but unsettled. “I had a bad dream,” he mumbled finally. John set the glass down. “About what?” Saint’s eyes flicked up to him, cautious. “About May.” That name, spoken so plainly, knocked the wind out of John more than he expected. He cleared his throat. “What kind of dream?”

Kris laid in bed, eyes wide, staring at the ceiling. She never experienced that type of dream before. It felt so real. Reaching mindlessly to the nightstand, she grabbed her vape, taking a long drag and holding it in. She exhaled, letting her shoulders drop and her eyes close. She thought about the events as they played out in her dream. She was giving a tattoo. It was a beautiful design she made specifically for Elena. They kept locking eyes, making it too hard for her to concentrate.

Harry asked. "Better," Maya said. "But I keep having strange dreams." "What kind of dreams?" Harry asked. "I see a young man with dark hair," Maya said. "He's calling my name, but I can't hear what name he's saying. And there's a woman with blonde hair who looks angry." Harry felt worried. He didn't want Maya to remember her past because he was scared she would leave him. "Dreams are just dreams," Harry said. "Don't worry about them."

“It’s not that. It’s worse. And you know it. You know what I did. You know I’ve done things.” There was a pause. “You’re being paranoid. Just rest. Focus on the baby. That’s what matters now.” “Mom, I feel like karma is circling me like a vulture. I see Emily’s face sometimes in my dreams. I see the nursery, the crib that never got used. And I know. I know it won’t bring Emily’s baby back.” My blood froze. I couldn’t move. The hallway felt longer, colder, like a tunnel in some endless dream. I stepped forward silently, my dress shoes sinking into the thick carpet like ghosts. Maya was on the couch, legs curled beneath her, phone in hand. She looked up.

The quiet hum of fluorescent lights and the soft rattle of the air conditioner were his only company. He heard footsteps in the hall and his heart leapt — but it was only Maya again, gathering her things. “Still here?” she asked gently. “You’re burning out, Adrian. Maybe take a night off.” He smiled faintly. “Maybe I just don’t want to go home to silence.” She gave him a puzzled look but didn’t push further. She couldn’t possibly understand. -- The dreams came on the ninth night. He woke breathless, sheets tangled, certain he’d felt fingers brush his cheek, lips ghosting over his forehead. His heart thundered, the imprint so real that he swore Evan had been there.

Oh, what I wouldn’t give to have her legs wrapped around me again. I was so fucked. She let out a shaky breath. “Why are you doing this?” “You’ve been appearing in my dreams, baby,” I told her honestly. “I’ve dreamt about you so many times that I think I managed to conjure you up in my company.” “Your dreams?” She asked like she couldn’t believe it. “Want to know what happens in those dreams?” As though the spell broke, she quickly stood up, and I moved back just in time to prevent her head from hitting my nose. “If you’ll excuse me, Mr Moretti.”

“Nice way to wake me up.” “Want me to lie down with you?” Maya’s voice softened. I nodded. She slid under the blanket beside me, the warmth of her presence oddly grounding. “Maybe you’ll finally tell me what it is,” she murmured. “What you keep dreaming about. You scream like someone’s killing you.” For a long moment, I stared at the ceiling. The room still felt too bright, the dream too close. My chest rose and fell in uneven breaths, and the image of those yellow eyes hovered just behind my eyelids.

Away from the music, the laughter, the judgmental eyes that suddenly felt like they were boring into her back. She ran up the narrow stairs two at a time, heart pounding in her ears. The hallway upstairs was quiet, dim. She burst into the suite Xander had given them, slamming the door behind her and locking it with shaking fingers. Maya was sitting up in the bed, wide awake. Her small hands clutched the blanket. And her eyes were glowing silver—bright, unnatural light filling the dark room. "Mama," Maya said, her voice small and scared. "I had a bad dream. And now I can’t make it stop. It’s cold again. Inside me."

My mind swam with the possibilities, but unless I was willing to sync to the public domain and use a search engine, I wasn't going to come up with any answers so long as the sun was still up. Figuring that I'd already cheated for the week, I opted to do another two lines of boost and hit the sack. The purple went down smooth and the rush was so intense that I white knuckled the blanket on my bed until the waves of electricity stopped rolling under my skin. Plugging back into my modem, I tried to leave any thoughts of the senator and his intruder behind. Paige, initiate dream sync. See you in a minute.