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Dreamwalkers

LECTURES 375
Votes 15
Chapitres 9
Durée 1h 11m

LECTURES 375
Votes 15
Chapitres 9
Durée 1h 11m

I'd always had the dreams. The feelings. As if I was never alone. I got used to the random touch on my back or the light whisper in my ear. But after my birthday, strange things started to happen. Well, more strange. My dreams were quickly becoming nightmares and my reality was becoming more and more of a dream.Tous Droits Réservés

Table des matières

9 chapitres

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𝐀 𝐇𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐧 𝐎𝐛𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 | [𝟏𝟖+], écrit par aivahkaur

𝐀 𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐓 𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐑𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐁𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃'𝐒 𝐁𝐑𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑. Book 1 in "Dark Fate" series. "They say you can't choose who you fall in love with, and he couldn't agree more. His sister's best friend had captured his heart, and he was consumed by his obsession for her and now, he knows he would never be able to let her go because she belongs with him." • ✧ • There's a kind of love that feels like sunlight - warm, gentle, safe. And then... there's his. It's not cruel. It's not loud. It's something far more dangerous - quiet, calculated, all-consuming. He was my best friend's brother. The man I was never supposed to notice. He watched from the shadows, memorizing me without ever needing a single word. I never really knew his name... but he knew everything about me. My fears. My patterns. My dreams. Even the parts I hadn't yet discovered myself. He's always been there, just a step behind-waiting, watching, wanting. And now, he's no longer waiting. He calls it love. I don't know what to call it, only that it pulls me in like gravity - unavoidable, inescapable. There's safety in his arms, yet danger in his silence. Gentleness in his touch, yet fire in his gaze. And somewhere in the tension between fear and longing, I find myself unraveling. Because the scariest part of being wanted like this... Is realizing you might want them back.

The Backrooms: Essence of Desolation, écrit par LiminalOne

Once, the world still meant something. People weren't hollow strangers, trust wasn't a cruel illusion, and freedom flowed as freely as water. Now drinkable water is scarce-and freedom even scarcer. Every step forward costs more than I can give, yet I keep moving, even when surrendering to the endless night would be easier. Why do I keep pressing on through these familiar alleys and shadowed corridors, where only death or desolation waits? Why am I carving these words into the crumbling face of an old concrete wall? When did my hand turn black? And how long ago did it become too late to turn back? ---------------------------- Yoooooo! What's up liminal lovers and clinical schizos! This is a rewrite of a story I made in the past that will likely have a different plot and generally be a thousand times better! Thanks to @_pepperleaf for being my amazing editor! Anyway enjoy the story, Love you guys! -LiminalOne

The Room with No Corners , écrit par AshesInBlooms

There is a moment before the dream begins where everything feels still. A breath held between worlds. In that moment, time doesn't move forward or backward-it waits. That's where I exist now. In the pause. In the static. I don't remember the exact day I started to vanish. Maybe it was slow. Maybe I was too quiet for the world to notice. They say the mind protects us from things we cannot bear. But what happens when the thing you're running from is yourself? Somewhere, there's a house that doesn't belong to any map. Its windows never reflect sunlight, and its walls curve so gently that you don't realize they're watching you. There's a girl in the mirror who looks like me, but she remembers things I don't. There's a bathtub filled with water so still it feels like a grave. There's a man I created-kind, warm, and perfectly not real. And there's a truth waiting at the end of the hallway. I'm afraid of it. But I think I've always known it. This story is not a confession. It's not a warning. It's just what happens when the silence gets too loud. And the corners begin to disappear.

Give me shelter, écrit par SabastianStefano

Have you ever felt so lonely you believed there was nothing left for you? Stashed away, merely forgotten. I mean you could cry and cry, yet no one would hear you. At least no one you truly once loved. Being yourself can be detrimental to others happiness, and so you down play who you are. You devalue your beliefs, your morals fall short and that hollow rock turns into your Mirror. Do you matter anymore? Would anyone care if you simply disappeared? Could you find your way out of the darkness? Look Closer is one of my favourite quotes and so I'll use it as a guide to understanding the complex characters you're about to meet.

My Dreams, écrit par BoyoBoyman

Sometimes I have dreams, My memory of these dreams aren't always clear and the stories tend to be a bit jumpy, a lot of these happen because I ate ice cream before bed. NOTE all names and locations have been changed for safety purposes

When Stories Wake Up, écrit par FracturedDream

Are you a writer? Do you ever feel guilty... when your characters suffer? When you break them, just to make the story better? You say, "It's just fiction." But what if... it's not? What if your story started feeling the same way? What if the characters you shaped with your words began to remember everything, every heartbreak, every betrayal, every death you wrote for them? And what if they wanted more than just a chapter? So tell me... If the story becomes real... If the characters you once controlled begin to take the pen from your hands... If the story starts writing you... just the way you wrote them... With all the pain, the heartbreak, the twists you never saw coming... What do you think your ending will be?

The last dreamwalker, écrit par Idkmydarlings

Read to find out :) In a world where dreams are doorways and nightmares have teeth, one girl walks between them. By night, she drifts through the minds of strangers, mending fears and painting peace where shadows linger. By day, she's just another tired face in the crowd-sarcastic, restless, and haunted by the silence in her own sleep. But something in the dreamscape is changing. The colors are fading. The air feels colder. And behind it all, there's a presence stirring-a darkness that isn't just another bad dream. As her two worlds begin to blur, she'll have to decide what's real, what's illusion, and what it means to be awake in a world that's starting to forget how to dream. ____________________________________ ( the rankings I'm proud of!) 1st place dystopian-fantasy 288th place in Dreams 78th place in Growth

Army Dreamers ↬ Morpheus., écrit par faevens

Some stories begin in kingdoms of glass, or forests where time forgets to move. This one begins in a coffee shop. A small, unremarkable place where the air tastes of burnt sugar and rain. Jane did not believe in fate. Fate is a thing for stories, for other people. For lives more dramatic than hers. She believed in early mornings and late nights, in chipped mugs and quiet customers, in coffee ... the bitter salvation of the sleepless. And then he came. Tall as a winter tree, skin pale as unfallen snow, eyes fathomless and black as ink spilled across eternity. He asked for nothing more than a cup of coffee, but the way he said her name - Jane. It was like a hymn remembered from another life. She would not learn until much later that he was older than kingdoms, older than gods, older than the first dream whispered in the dark. That he was not a man at all, but a dream given shape and sorrow. And that in loving him, she had changed the story of the world They say love can conquer time. But time is cruel. And when he vanished, Jane waited. A hundred years of rain on glass, a hundred years of nights without his voice. But dreams never die. And some, no matter how deep they are buried, return. #1 DCEU 8/7/2025.

Short Stories and Poems, écrit par CJ_Pride

This is my collection of random short stories and poems that I have written.

NOCTUARY: A journal of my dreams, écrit par reymayaoficial

What if your dreams weren't just dreams, but a second life you live every night? Be warned: what you read here could change the way you sleep forever. NOCTUARY is the logbook of that parallel life. It is not a collection of fantasies, but the raw-and at times terrifying-narrative of a soul that leaves its body each night to venture into the world. These are inexplicable chronicles of dreams: experiences in real places, with real people, and the strange ability to return to bed at will. But the return is never complete. The border between worlds is permeable, and something always seeps through. Each awakening is a race against forgetting: to decipher the last night's revelation or warning, to understand how it's possible to return not just with memories, but with proof. Sometimes, it's with a bit of real dust on your feet. These stories immerse you in a reality where the rules are broken and the questions become unsettling: What is consciousness when it can leave the body? And what is the real world when you can bring back fragments from another? After reading this, you will never sleep the same way again.

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Slide 1 of 10

𝐀 𝐇𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐧 𝐎𝐛𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 | [𝟏𝟖+] cover

The Backrooms: Essence of Desolation cover

The Room with No Corners cover

Give me shelter cover

My Dreams cover

When Stories Wake Up cover

The last dreamwalker cover

Army Dreamers ↬ Morpheus. cover

Short Stories and Poems cover

NOCTUARY: A journal of my dreams cover

𝐀 𝐇𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐧 𝐎𝐛𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 | [𝟏𝟖+]

𝐀 𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐓 𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐑𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐁𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃'𝐒 𝐁𝐑𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑. Book 1 in "Dark Fate" series. "They say you can't choose who you fall in love with, and he couldn't agree more. His sister's best friend had captured his heart, and he was consumed by his obsession for her and now, he knows he would never be able to let her go because she belongs with him." • ✧ • There's a kind of love that feels like sunlight - warm, gentle, safe. And then... there's his. It's not cruel. It's not loud. It's something far more dangerous - quiet, calculated, all-consuming. He was my best friend's brother. The man I was never supposed to notice. He watched from the shadows, memorizing me without ever needing a single word. I never really knew his name... but he knew everything about me. My fears. My patterns. My dreams. Even the parts I hadn't yet discovered myself. He's always been there, just a step behind-waiting, watching, wanting. And now, he's no longer waiting. He calls it love. I don't know what to call it, only that it pulls me in like gravity - unavoidable, inescapable. There's safety in his arms, yet danger in his silence. Gentleness in his touch, yet fire in his gaze. And somewhere in the tension between fear and longing, I find myself unraveling. Because the scariest part of being wanted like this... Is realizing you might want them back.