Whimsically I think sometimes when we dream we visit parallel worlds. At least that's what I would like to believe. I can't explain the dream I had only I remembered the air, the smells and such. That drawing wasn't anywhere near what I remember but I had the urge to do it. There were people in that square with the steps and those arches were filled with plants, and it was a very touristy place. I think it felt European but I haven't found anywhere in the real world that looks like that.
I've had similar dreams wherein I'm in a beautiful city, and I'm surrounded by buildings of neoclassical and gothic architecture. There are cobblestone streets, and there's a big loop plaza with a large fountain in the middle. I haven't done much traveling in my life, but I figure these are probably reflections of places I've seen in travel magazines and long to visit someday.
I feel the same. I had one dream mid last year when I woke up the next morning I felt disoriented and teary. It had felt like I had spent some time in this place and I remember travelling with this woman I had made friends with and she had a convertible and we were talking and driving places, and she had a very nice house and we kissed at her front door, and it felt like some time had passed, to me a month or two, maybe more. It ended just before I woke up with me in her lounge room holding her hand and I think I was about to propose marriage.
Aww. I wish I had dreams like yours, but most of the stuff I dream about is pretty mundane, if not downright weird. Lately I've been having early awakenings on weekdays and find it difficult to go back to sleep. I take 3 mg of melatonin every night, but I don't want to overdo it and have a hard time getting out of bed.
Oh it's not that great. The one I described left me feeling upset when I woke up as if I had really been to that place. Her name was Marina and her car was a red Ford convertible. Best way I could describe it was like how Picard must have felt after the events of that episode where he was given the flute..
Hilbert's hotel, no doubt. I had a dream last night, where I was going to be in some horror movie. The goth make up made me look younger, thinner--different features. http://www.hplfilmfestival.com/sites/default/files/20140422153906-sergejschell2.jpg http://rovdyrdreams.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/06/Celephais.jpg Nasht and Kaman-Tha are kind to you https://www.yog-sothoth.com/wiki/index.php/Dreamlands Don't go looking for splendid Cathuria--poor Basil Elton made that mistake.
I started keeping a dream journal because I got sick of the feeling of trying to remember a dream but having it slip away. Sometimes I write in it without really waking up. I don't remember writing this entry in my sleep last night, but after reading it I remember the dream vividly: "A man showing us around the 17th century village where he was raised. A tragedy had happened there when he was a child. Most of the community died at once of convulsions. The schoolhouse where the children had died. At first empty with overturned desks and brown leaves everywhere. Then suddenly clean and memorialized with pastel placards where each student's desk had been. A celebration in the village. A reenactment of the suicide of a couple. A woman in a black Victorian gown and black feathers pretends to be hanged. She runs and laughs into a fake noose while the crowd cheers."
You have to keep yourself amused by the lake of Hali...I suppose. I have a dream journal--but I haven't been keeping it that well.
I'm enjoying keeping one. My dreams have had a lot of dark imagery. I did another I must have written in the middle of the night, again without remembering (I'm on some serious meds for a hip procedure which might be part of why I don't remember writing them). Last night's: "A middle-aged white man, the angels are after him. Downtown, brick buildings, the windows break and the glass falls. Shards hit him graphic and bloody. Spare the other men, the angels aren't after them. A man drags him to safety, leaving behind his colleague."
Earlier in that same dream I was running on a treadmill in one of the skyscrapers that ended up with shattered windows, wearing nothing but a tee shirt and had awesome tattoos all around my hips and pelvis. Dream analogy is mostly bollox, but I do like to fabricate interpretations out of whole cloth. In this case, the dream was obviously about the power of womanhood and menstruation, and how my feminist agenda will succeed in dismantling the patriarchy. If anyone want's a bullshit analysis of their dream, I am so up for it. I have real degrees in psychology and neuroscience too, so it will be an accredited bullshit analysis!
Pitch blackness, as my dreams often start, that fades to an overcast gray sky, with dark clouds looming, pregnant with the promise of rain. I'm standing on a dry and dusty plain, the ground cracked and split from a lack of water. I look down, and notice I'm not wearing any clothes. It is hot (not me, the air), and I can feel the heat of the soil on my bare feet. The burning doesn't bother me, though. I start turning in all directions, and see that right behind me, probably a hundred yards away, is a tree. Unlike my surroundings, this tree is lush and flush with life. The leaves are green and vibrant, and it seems to almost glow with the infusion of vitality. I approach the tree, and as I approach the tree, this fountain of rage just starts to overcome me. It comes from deep down where I lock it away, and it is pushing upward, against my chest. I can feel my heartbeat quicken, and my muscles tense as I grow angrier, and angrier. I look down, and I see an axe in my hands, one that has a dark wooden handle, and a fiery red axe head with a silver edge to the single blade. So I scream as loud as I can, and I swing my axe, tearing into the trunk. Wood chips flying everywhere. I could hear the silent screams of the tree as I sunk the blade into it over, and over again. Each time as I made contact with the flesh of the tree, I could see fire licking at my blade. The gashes where I had landed the blade of the axe were scorched, and blood was oozing from the trunk of the tree. Finally, I threw down the axe, wrapped my arms around the trunk, and uprooted the tree, and slammed it against the earth. I look up, and suddenly there are thousands of children there, all dressed in white, and they are crying. One of them tells me I have killed the Giving Tree. When I look down at the remains of the tree, there is nothing but a skeleton, with a gold star emblazoned on its sternum. Then the rain starts falling, and the skeleton melts into the dirt.
The imagery in that dream is beautiful, @Coloratura Totally Accredited Bullshit Analysis: You are feeling isolated in a society that is lacking in people like you, and your nakedness means you feel exposed. There is still internal conflict to conform to the community (the barren landscape) so you take on a traditional male gender role, and cut down the tree -- the growing, colorful, nonconforming, nonbinary aspect of yourself -- despite the fact that it is what allows you to flourish (life-giving rain). You probably also had to pee. I dreamed of a Slurpee machine that dispensed gummy bears and was operated by a cat. Seriously.
@thestrangequark, those are some vivid dreams and great interpretations. I had a dream on Friday/Saturday night that involved being in a big house, which is a common recurring theme I have. It all started with actor David Duchovny. He was in an office, possibly seeing a psychiatrist for an appointment. I couldn't help thinking how attractive and sexy he was. When I got out of that office, I was in a huge house with an open floor plan. This wasn't a new house; I could tell by the furniture and interior structure that it was between 40 to 60 years old, but it was enormous. The whole area was very wide and spacious. I walked down an aisle and saw an old acquaintance of mine from the old country lying in a full-size bed to my left, and adjacent to the sleeping area to my right was an open kitchen, where appliances, cookware, and dinnerware could be seen. It was a walk-through kitchen, having only two walls on both ends so that people could go in and out as they pleased. There were a number of bedrooms too on this level, with the doors closed. At the end of this aisle, there was a large wooden table similar to ones I've seen in Chinese restaurants. Several chairs were set around the table. Against the wall with a wooden panel, there was a counter with a sign that read something like "Finger Puppet Show." I thought perhaps the former occupants used the area as a dining and entertainment room. However, there were several other tables and chairs of different styles in the room, so it was hard to pinpoint which was the dining room. One of the aisles on the other side of the kitchen led to a door with a spiral stairwell up to three levels up. There were people in the stairwell playing a couple of musical instruments, like an electronic keyboard, and they commented on how perfect the acoustics were in the surrounding area. This house was so big that a part of the property was built above a tunnel road and encompassed the other side, which was a vacant lot with horse stables. The back of the house faced a beautiful coast. I recall telling my dad that he could spend his mornings strolling along the coast, but there didn't seem to be any walking trails. When I opened a door in front of the house, let's say the garage, I could see through a long corridor leading all the way to the backyard with a view of the ocean. I would move on to another corridor with another doorway at the end with the same view of the water. At this point, I began to realize the house was a former commercial building of sorts that had been converted into a modern home. There was an old sign outside, parts of which were written in Latin, stating that the house had been a hotel or hospital.
Oh their god, I did have to pee! Seriously, though, that sounds like a fair approximation of what it could have meant for me. I do often feel isolated. I live in a tiny town that is so very conservative. Also, I love the idea that who I am is represented by a vibrant, rainbow tree. ♥ You have an adorably twisted brain.
The only dream I remember at all in the last month, as I basically never remember mine at all, was dismembering Superman with a meat cleaver on a train. Even I don't know what the hell to make of that one.
That would be an interesting movie....... Was it a Kryptonite meat cleaver? Interesting as in odd lol
Totally Accredited Bullshit Analysis: A train is a symbol for the future. You know the American Dream is being butchered, and being in Northern Ireland, you understand the strains that can divide (dismember) nations bloodily. The dream is about sympathy. Although Northern Ireland voted to remain in the EU, you feel unresolved guilt about Brexit. You probably were also horny.