What Dreams May Come Novels & Stories

His voice comes soft, almost wistful, right before I fall into sleep: “I don’t know what I’m going to do with you. I don’t think I can carry out my plan. Maybe there’s a way to keep you and gain the power…” But I’m already gone. — I always remember my dreams. Always. It’s one of the weirder things about me. I dream vividly. Constantly. And most of the time, I can control them. So when I find myself lying on a bed in barely-there lingerie and I see a shadow shift in the darkness, I know this isn’t Lucifer’s dream. It’s Nathan’s. He steps from the black, shirtless, wearing loose jeans slung low on his hips. That lazy smile of his pulls at something deep inside me. Goddess, I’ve missed him.

Thomas unbuttons the top button of his shirt to get some air. They stood in the middle of the room staring into each other’s eyes trying to push into each other’s minds. The candle flames became higher, and when he saw the look in her eyes, he could tell as her thoughts seemed to have changed. For some reason, she had remembered her dream from last night. A warm flush overcame her as she pushed into his mind, bringing her hot and steamy dreams with her. That took them down a whole other road. She had been having this dream ever since they had met. When it came to controlling it, that had been rather difficult lately.

Mayeli woke up with a scream, her body soaked with sweat and tears dripping down her cheeks. She had had that dream for months now, and each time she woke up feeling very terrified, though she never cried or screamed, but today, it was different. The dream had felt too real, and Mayeli could still remember the smell of the beach and the coldness in Killian’s glare. She sat, and before she knew it, she burst into tears, the pain in her chest worsening. Mayeli heard a soft knock, and then the door to her room opened. She saw the silhouette of a tall, perfectly built man with the aid of her reading lamp, walking into her room.

the officer pressed. Dennis shook his head slowly, his voice raw and uneven. "She was calm. Everything seemed normal." At that moment, his assistant stepped forward, speaking in a low voice. "Mr. Malcolm, you should look at your wife's Instagram account." Dennis fumbled to unlock his phone, logging in hastily. The most recent post greeted him like a slap to the face. [Five years of dreaming. Time to wake up. The truth is yours to uncover. —Tracy.]

he told me. It hurt me to think that he was having such horrible dreams. Just as the fact that he wouldn’t let me hold him hurt me as well. With my hands folded in my lap, I asked him if it was always the same dream, or is it different? “The same,” he said softly. “Daddy comes into my room and tells me that you’ve been in an accident and that you’re sleeping but won’t ever wake up.” He didn’t have the words but it sounded like he was describing a coma. I found it odd that he was dreaming about me being in a coma. It was very specific.

I awoke in bed alone, still naked and wondering if yesterday really happened? Or did I just dream that my girlfriend and her 19 year old daughter seduced me? Wracked with guilt, I sat up, trying to decide if it was real or a fantasy. Did I really screw my soon to be step daughter? Was I some kind of a perverted monster? Did I really cum inside her? Did I really enjoy it? Or had I just been dreaming about that too? Did my girlfriend really let me do all this? Did she really get off on it? God was she still going to marry me? What had I done?

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.”

Come to me in the silence of the night; Come in the speaking silence of a dream; Come with soft rounded cheeks and eyes as bright As sunlight on a stream; Come back in tears, O memory, hope, love of finished years. O dream how sweet, too sweet, too bitter sweet, Whose wakening should have been in Paradise, Where souls brimfull of love abide and meet; Where thirsting longing eyes Watch the slow door That opening, letting in, lets out no more. Yet come to me in dreams, that I may live My very life again though cold in death:

She answered. “How come you don’t have a choice?” I asked her. “Mom got me into a scholarship there since she knew it’s my long-time dream to be in Paris.” She answered. “Where’s the Jaiden spirit?” Connor asked. “Think of it this way.” Connor said. “Remember the times you told us about how you dreamed of waking up there, finding your lover there, etc.” He added. “Take it as an opportunity.” “Connor’s right.” I agreed. “Who knows when you will achieve that dream.” I said. “Always remember that we’re here for you.”

“Then you will learn the hard way.” *** I jerk awake, running my hands over my naked chest and stomach, looking for the hundreds of paper cuts the torturer made with his scalpel. Realising it was just a dream, a memory, my heart slows down, and the panic eases from my body. “It takes a while,” Maya says. She’s sitting on her knees next to me, just looking at me with her big, soulful eyes. “After something bad happens. It takes a while before the dreams stop. It will get better.”