Dreamscape Quotes

“Red light flickered behind her closed eyelids, and when she opened them, she discovered that they were surrounded by flames.
Let it burn....
His sleek brow wrinkled, and he shook his head. Poor man looked conflicted, which was an interesting expression on a nightmare. "Your city is on fire."
She smiled languidly. "Ain't it grand?”
― Erin Kellison, Scrape

“Or… maybe I’m not going crazy. “Maybe I’m some sort of android-cyborg-clone-thing, and I’m just breaking down.
I’m not sure which way is worse.
Dad laughs. “You’re not in your right mind, dear,” he says. “No, no, no, you’re not.”
And then—
—Silence.

Dad fades away. The reverie chair disappears.

There’s just blackness. I remember then that I am in the reverie of something dead. Whatever that thing was, it was dead.
And, just as I’m starting to wonder if, perhaps, I have died, too, I see a light, far away in the corner of the dreamscape. The light isn’t soft; it’s not glowing. It crackles like silent lightning, burning with electricity, sparks flying out and fizzling in the dark.
I don’t know why—it makes no sense, the way dreams often don’t—but I want to touch the light.
So I do.”
― Beth Revis, The Body Electric

“He's a nightmare," she said.
"I can be, too." Rook answered, his red eyes glowing. "Just try me.”
― Erin Kellison, Scrape

“Even dead he won't let me go!"
"Third time's the charm.”
― Erin Kellison, Scrape

“A track I’ve always liked by Mogwai goes on a loop while I pour a second glass of Reyka. This time it tastes of lava fields and thermal springs, aromatic alcohol evaporating stale thoughts, familiar and foreign. Something unnamed is melting, germinating, potentiating the currents of tomorrow across frozen, unpopulated dreamscapes.”
― Laurie Perez, The Look of Amie Martine

“Across the lansdcape, steam vents hiss gaseous breath from deep inside the planet, creating an environment that feels like it hangs in the balance between our world and another.”
― Stefanie Payne, A Year in the National Parks: The Greatest American Road Trip

“As the dreamscape around me grows clearer, I slip further away from it. The mind is a magical thing, I’m discovering. A dreamscape is made of thought and is wider than the sky, able to grow large enough to fit not just our own world, but every possibility and impossibility beyond it. Once I quit thinking of it as being forced into the laws of physics, it’s easy to manipulate the dreamscape into anything I want. I don’t know how I know all this, no more than I understand how I know things when I dream. I just do.
I throw up my hand, and a wall rises between the orange grove and me. Behind the wall, I start creating the world I need in Representative Belles’s mind.”
― Beth Revis, The Body Electric

“Is she okay?" Harlen's throat was clogged with stones of fear. "She has to be okay.”
― Erin Kellison, Scrape

“King shrugged and looked back at Harlen. "Please tell me you have a plan. Because my baby girl really likes to color with me.”
― Erin Kellison, Scrape

“If anyone comes, shoot first, ask questions later.”
― Erin Kellison, Scrape

“I want to wake up!" a young woman shouted to the classroom ceiling. With her wide-set eyes and freckles, she looked like a nice person. Then a knobby-boned creature advanced on her. But she couldn't wake. And she likely wouldn't ever again.”
― Erin Kellison, Scrape

“There is no reason for any of this if we don't survive."
Vince reached out and ran a hand through her long hair. "Ah, love. That's where you're wrong. As long as we do what we're meant to do, it doesn't really matter if we survive or not.”
― Erin Kellison, Scrape

“With a deep breath, I extend my arms, beginning with an adagio, syncing with the melody of the flowers. When I find comfort in the rhythm, I dip into a cambré, sweeping my body into a whirlpool as I rise. I hesitate as plumes of color emerge from the ground, encompassing me in a veil of fuchsia, amber, and gold. The colors gather me, and I move with them like the language of fire--- hot, quick steps, languid and elegant.
The forest begins to change, and my eyes widen. When I began my bourrée steps, foxgloves sprout like lace-crafted trumpets, marrying the sound of blooming hibiscuses, rattling like tambourines. With every step I take, more flowers grow, kissing the earth with their velvet lips. I almost swear I hear the ground sing back, harmonizing with the forest's song.
I guess the angel was right.
With a glimmer of confidence, I burst into a grand jeté, and golden hummingbirds mimic me, tracing my every move as I dive into a piqué manège. Damien's eyes glisten, and it fills my spirit.With every chassé, the forest unravels in color.
Fireflies come to life and kiss my cheeks, circling my body in a lattice as I pirouette. New colors rise from the ground--- topaz, lazuli, and chartreuse--- dancing with me like my own ensemble, I transition into my fouettés, leaning into an arabesque, as if to touch the rising moon.
I lose all sense of self, leaping into the air. My body transcends into a wind-like creature, moving wildly with mild grace. New life sprouts, as if this world belongs to me and not the angels. Tiny stars emerge in a trail behind my feet, and I climb them like stairs. Damien smiles. I reach for his hand and lift him onto the steps.
His hands wrap around my waist, and together we spin higher into the sky. My grip around his shoulders tenses as we rise closer and closer to the Heavens. I can feel Luna radiating over me. I'm in command. Here, I'm free. I wish I could hold on to this moment forever.”
― Kiana Krystle, Dance of the Starlit Sea

“Sea-foam tumbles onto the shore, claiming me gently in the way I've always craved. The ocean gathers me, carrying me over the surface like Cleopatra--- and I, every ounce as lovely as her and Aphrodite combined. Bit by bit the water swallows me, gently nipping at my skin until I dissolve into an aquatic spirit. Only then do I understand the language of angelfish and squid, and I move just as languidly. The sirens gape at me with their jewel-bright eyes and try to steal me as their own. But before I can be taken by those curious witches, I rise to the surface again.
Everything glimmers here.
I embrace the dusk with a hopeful smile. The sky blends into a watercolor of pastels and ambrosial stars. It's an aurora borealis of magenta and lavender, tempting me into the forest and away from the safety of the shore.
Something's in the wind. I can feel it--- like the twinkling stars will finally lead me to the love I desire. I want it more than anything. The thought of it turns me feral, like a vampiress thirsty for a drop of blood. I dart through the forest, trailing a path of golden light. Past the evergreens and pines, underneath the moon, I become wild and free.
Sweet summer fruit grows from trees, ripe and sparkling. With every cautious step I take, the flowers blossom. But they don't just grow. They glow. Ultraviolet irises, sugar-dusted peonies, and iridescent rosebuds unravel beneath my feet. Foxgloves bloom like trumpets, playing a regal procession beside twinkling bluebells. As I journey deeper into the forest, fireflies circle me, illuminating my path.
And then I see him.
I blink. He's awfully familiar, but I can't place my finger on who he is. He's beautiful. A boy with white-blond hair and viridescent eyes. Where have I seen him before?
"Hello, Lila," he says.
I stumble back. "How do you know my name?"
He's peculiar. So unbelievably enchanting. I'm enthralled by the sound of his voice alone.
"Don't be scared. You're safe here. I wanted to bring you somewhere special. Somewhere where you can make the forest beautiful with your dance."
My dance.
Of course, my dance.
Witchlight flickers in his eyes. This world is meant for me. A gift wrapped up in velvet petals and sweet perfumes.”
― Kiana Krystle, Dance of the Starlit Sea