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Write a story inspired by the phrase "It was all just a dream."

Posted in Short Story on Jun 20, 2025

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✍️ 38 stories

Oh, but what a kiss

Submitted to Contest #308

“It was all just a dream.” The class tittered as the professor said the words in a sing-song tone and then wrote the phrase on the board. He took his time, and he underlined the sentence using ochre-colored chalk. “Say these words aloud with me,” Professor Johnson instructed. The class echoed as one: “It was all just a dream.” “Louder,” he demanded. He was charismatic. Crazy white hair. Mismatched socks. He liked call-and-responses in his classroom. Once he’d stood on his head to make a point about editing. “IT WAS ALL JUST A DREAM!” the stu...

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The Circus Life

Submitted to Contest #308

The scent of stale popcorn and the sound of cheers roar from right behind the curtain. “You’re on in five!” Luther comes rushing into the dressing room and skids to a halt right behind me. He leans down to see me in the mirror and smiles, “Knock em dead”A grin splits my face as I push the seat towards him and twirl around, “I always do.”Disassociating from everything around me, I stare at the performer in her tight purple sequin unitard and a top hat staring right back at me in the mirror. With a huff I exhale and shrug my shoulders back, “S...

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Perpetua & Felicity

Submitted to Contest #308

PerpetuaMy father's fingers tremble. It is rare that he gets angry, but I could see that bit of wetness in his eyes that always comes when he is frustrated. He is watching lightning strike his house. He simply has to watch it burn. He is burning now. I have set him on fire.I look across the table at the pitcher made of clay that was half full of wine, and I say to him, "do you see that pitcher, father?" He does not want to break his stare, but he glances over and nods his head. "Yes." I square my jaw and speak quietly and clearly. "Can you c...

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Sea Glass Dreams

Submitted to Contest #308

The first thing about Cape May that captured my attention was the light. She was the second. The light was unique, different. It wasn’t the sun, not directly. It was the way the light itself draped over everything like a soft, golden canopy protecting everything it touched. She was unique, too. Different. I could see that immediately, even if she couldn’t see me. Of course, she wasn’t looking for me. She was looking for something else. Something buried in the sand as she made her way down the beach. I moved along with her, matching her strid...

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Ethical Concerns and AI Botflies

Submitted to Contest #308

When Little Plump Jo and her five overexcitable writing companions, the Dabrowski Dogs arrived, they were greeted outside Sir Lancelot’s door by Merlin.“He wants to have time with you in your role of Epiphany Provoker; but you are quite within your rights to refuse or to leave early. His mood is quite erratic this morning -to say the least!”“No worries! I will go in first and cheer him up!” That was Psycho Motor Dabrowski who had come wearing a jester’s hat for just such a situation. “He had a very bad night” Merlin said, “in a lot of pain a...

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It was all just a dream.

Submitted to Contest #308

Content Warning / Disclaimer:This story contains references to emotional and physical abuse, trauma, and psychological manipulation. Reader discretion is advised.It Was All Just a DreamIt was all just a dream.That is what she tells the detective, the social worker, the news anchor with the sympathetic smile. She says it aloud because if it was not a dream, if it was real, then she has to remember every breath, every bruise, every moment she smiled at the monster and called him safe.They told her the countryside would be good for her. Soft. H...

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The Hope in Grief

Submitted to Contest #308

This story contains content of child loss, specifically stillbirth. Although I was frightened, the nurses helped me hold you properly. I learned how to support your neck. I learned how to change your diaper and your tiny outfit. I counted your little toes and your little tiny fingers. Ten and ten, just the way it’s supposed to be. I saw your lips, and they were your father’s. Your nose—well, it was your father’s, too. I spent 9 months making you, just for you to come out looking like your dad. But I didn’t mind. You were beautiful. And you ...

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Porch Dreams

Submitted to Contest #308

The rocking chair creaked gently beneath his weight. The wood, worn smooth by decades of use, matched the lines of his frame as perfectly as the porch did the house he built with his own hands.George Weller sat quietly, hands folded over a cane that rested across his lap. His back was a little more hunched than last spring. His hair—what little was left—had gone from gray to wisps of white. He wore the same suspenders he had on the day of his wedding, though he had let out the waist more than once over the years.In front of him, a handful of...

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The Loose End

Submitted to Contest #308

The road stretched out like a half-forgotten and frayed ribbon—curling, dipping, and dragging me through the vast void between farmland, ditches, and fence posts. My Prius purred along. The faint crinkle of a plastic bag—housing styrofoam food containers—shifted on the passenger seat, offering the only faint sense of purpose. Another FoodDash delivery. Yet another stranger with a superhero name, waiting on lukewarm Pad Thai and those sad little chopsticks that never break clean—because nothing says “cultural appreciation” like a 2-star cravi...

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Moon Daisies

Submitted to Contest #308

I lay in a drowsy languor; the sun wasn’t far off setting and had painted the sky a pink and peachy-gold with broad brush strokes. I breathed in the grass scented air and closed my eyes. Jonathan had already gone back into the caravan, but I couldn’t bear to. It was too warm, too comfortable on the brushed-cotton tartan rug that held memories of Scotland and stargazing. I would wait for the stars to appear before moving, I decided. Someone’s television was too loud; canned laughter and a man’s voice speaking in a decisive tone filtered th...

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Excerpt from The Weight of Ananke (a book I'm writing)

Submitted to Contest #308

5 Atlas was still on the empty beach, his limbs aching, his flesh salt-burned and battered. The tempest had gone, but had left him shattered in more than one way. His arms and legs pained him, the lead of the sea's wrath still running through his bone. When he was at last capable of standing upright, burning pain stabbed through his ribs, and he doubled over, hissing.The silence that had closed over him was oppressive. No gulls cried overhead, no waves gently lapped at the horizon—only the wind keening over the empty ground, talking to him a...

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The Dream Archivist

Submitted to Contest #308

Trigger Warning: Contains Suicide or Self Harm And Substance Abuse --- Talia had always been a lucid dreamer. From the age of seven, she could will her dreams into castles and creatures, storms and safaris, reshaping her unconscious world like clay. Her parents called it a gift. Her therapist called it a defense mechanism. Talia called it freedom. But even she wasn't prepared for the dream that started on the night of her twenty-ninth birthday. It began with a train. Not the clunky, familiar kind that ran from her city’s downtown station, bu...

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The Good Dream No Woman Wants

Submitted to Contest #308

“It was just a dream, honey,” I cooed softly to my son. My husband sat on the small bed next to me, rubbing my back as I cradled Liam’s tiny body in my arms. “It was only a dream.” Liam whimpered, further fracturing my heart. It had been weeks since his nightmares started, and they were consistent. Every night, around 2:30 in the morning, Liam would scream. “No! No! Stay away!” he’d beg the figment of his imagination. And every night, my husband and I would run to his room and comfort him until he fell asleep once again. We tried everything...

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A Mothers Whisper

Submitted to Contest #308

Good evening, I am hoping I can borrow you for a few minutes. I have an occasional situation that I could use some help with. I have heard that one is never alone, however I have never heard of anything like what I am experiencing happen to anyone else, which is why I am asking for your help. I need to give you some background in order for you to possibly be better to understand this unusual situation of mine.From the time my mother entered middle school, she was introduced to illegal and illicit drugs. She used them throughout high school a...

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The Mysterious Land of Brookville

Submitted to Contest #308

Chapter 1 The Screaming Chaos It was just a dream…or was it? Brook’s eyes fluttered shut as she inconspicuously dropped her pen and sketchbook, falling face flat on her vintage bedsheets. The overwhelming energy she experienced felt like she had downed three cups of coffee that night, totally bored out of her mind. Thus, she picked out a pencil and sketchbook from the collection of scattered books on her study table and plopped down on her bed. She drew pictures for what see...

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