Dream Theory is an online publication focused on fiction, art and essays, founded 2024. Our mantra is "Narrative, unbound". #Writers #Writing #Publisher #Publishing
https://dreamtheory.media
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“I know everything about you. I even know what will happen next.”
“No,” I said, snapping up. “You don’t know that. No one does.”
Matt Bliss examines loss and acceptance in “Even Talking Trees Die”, now live on Dream Theory:
www.dreamtheory.media/even-talking...
Cody Schell explores a curious gateway to higher dimensions in his latest “ART of the Solar System” visual strip!
www.dreamtheory.media/art-of-the-s...
Cody Schell explores a curious gateway to higher dimensions in his latest “ART of the Solar System” visual strip!
www.dreamtheory.media/art-of-the-s...
“It paid no attention to the heap of smoldering obsidian armor sprawled out on the ground before the fallen shieldmaiden, arrayed as though it had once contained a giant's body...”
Patrick Hurley’s “Wings of the Gray Swallow” is now live!
www.dreamtheory.media/wings-of-the...
“It paid no attention to the heap of smoldering obsidian armor sprawled out on the ground before the fallen shieldmaiden, arrayed as though it had once contained a giant's body...”
Patrick Hurley’s “Wings of the Gray Swallow” is now live!
www.dreamtheory.media/wings-of-the...
“Magic still suffused them, glittering like motes of light-reminders of Solsulien’s lingering influence. It should have been comforting, but instead, it merely filled him with dread.”
Catherine Yeates’ “Epiphany at the Temple of the Shadow Goddess” is live!
www.dreamtheory.media/epiphany-at-...
“Magic still suffused them, glittering like motes of light-reminders of Solsulien’s lingering influence. It should have been comforting, but instead, it merely filled him with dread.”
Catherine Yeates’ “Epiphany at the Temple of the Shadow Goddess” is live!
www.dreamtheory.media/epiphany-at-...
“I used to love hospitals. Being inside them. Their corridors and wards, as familiar as the veins crawling up my arm. The creaking leather chairs, womb-like in their enveloping.”
Callum Rowland’s “Healing Properties of a Hypodermic to the Hippocampus” is live!
www.dreamtheory.media/healing-prop...
"Bramblethwaite hadn’t expected the Chosen One to be so… greasy, but Chosen Ones came in all forms..."
Christopher Degni's lighthearted fantasy flash fiction story "Bramblethwaite, Malinor, and Todd" is now live!
www.dreamtheory.media/bramblethwai...
“…it feels wasteful to count the seconds here, at the end of time. But I know it must be there. In the depths of my heart, I know that you wouldn’t abandon me to this fate.”
“At the Threshold, There was Light” by Elijah J. Mears is now live!
www.dreamtheory.media/at-the-thres...
by Elijah J. Mears
I don’t know how long I’ve been looking for a way out—it feels wasteful to count the seconds here, at the end of time. But I know it must be there. In the depths of my heart, I kno...
by Catherine Yeates
Steam poured off the seared edges of the columns that littered the temple floor. Brother Anselzar stepped carefully through the wreckage, his long robes trailing over the rubble....
by Catherine Yeates
Steam poured off the seared edges of the columns that littered the temple floor. Brother Anselzar stepped carefully through the wreckage, his long robes trailing over the rubble....
by Patrick Hurley The gray swallow rode the wind over wood and stream until it grew tired. It landed softly on the bare branch of a withered tree that stood alone in the midst of a smoking field. It took no notice of the red-haired shieldmaiden clad in gleaming mail
www.dreamtheory.media
by Christopher Degni
Bramblethwaite hadn’t expected the Chosen One to be so… greasy, but Chosen Ones came in all forms. He’d consulted the Oracle of Amatar multiple times; there was no chance of erro...
by Matt Bliss
The tree talked to me.
“I have something to tell you,” it said to me in a voice clearer than an August night in South Fork. I was only seven then, awkward with those pudgy little arms...
www.dreamtheory.media
by Callum Rowland
I used to love hospitals. Being inside them.
Their corridors and wards, as familiar as the veins crawling up my arm. The creaking leather chairs, womb-like in their enveloping. U...
www.dreamtheory.media
by Patrick Hurley The gray swallow rode the wind over wood and stream until it grew tired. It landed softly on the bare branch of a withered tree that stood alone in the midst of a smoking field. It took no notice of the red-haired shieldmaiden clad in gleaming mail
