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Oneiric - DreamRebel - 06-22-2016 08:38 PM

Sometimes I wonder if I don't dream as much as I put on plays for myself in my sleep. While a lot of my dreams are very much like dreams, a lot of my others are consistent enough to be more like full-blown stories or infodump from fantasy worlds of various levels of normalcy. Some of them contain all sorts of literary devices and cinematic techniques, and one of them was a coherent parody of an actual folktale. A lot of the stories of my sleep are better than if I'd have first conceived them in my waking hours, and if anybody can provide an explanation for this then I'd love to hear it. Actually, any commentary on any element of any dream is welcome.
As well, common telltale signs that I'm dreaming have eroded many times. When I was little, I'd never dream outright about places I've been in real life, but often fusions of places I've been or different places entirely, and always identifying those places as being one place that I have definitely seen while awake. I outgrew this, recognizing the settings for what they were instead of a place they resembled as well as dreaming about places I have actually been to, about when I was ten. Later, I'd notice that whenever I was dreaming I didn't feel anything tactile or emotional, but the plot and detail of the dream still involved it. A few years after that I'd get a dream where I actually felt emotions and sensations, but only the one. Recently, trying to lucid dream, I managed to get a dream that had absolutely nothing specifically oneiric aside from having no conscious control over my body.

Here are some of my subconscious short films, a list that gets updated as I dream more and remember old dreams as well. I swindle Neohax's idea of hiding the text to save visual space.

Hidden stuff:
The oldest dream I can remember is from when I was small enough that I can't estimate my age when I dreamt it. It's the only one from this period in my life that I can remember, and the only dream I'd bother to label with an age if I could. I consider it my most bizarre dream, since it's unlike any other I've had, and it more closely resembles a fake dream that might be described on a TV show than a real one, even a dream like I'd have later in life. If only I could remember what order my memories came in when I was so young, I might be able to confirm this as my oldest memory.
The sky was black but the houses, sidewalk, road, grass, and trees were lit like it was dusk or dawn. I recognized the neighborhood as being my own even though it looked nearly nothing like the street I lived on, the most significant differences being the almost complete lack of trees in this dream and that the road meandered in the middle of the block instead of going straight to the intersection. The only house that looked the same as any of the houses in my neighborhood was my own.
My mom led me down the approach, and she told me that we were going to see the "Uncle Johnny Parade." We are the only spectators aside from Uncle John who was sitting ten feet down the sidewalk from us, Uncle John who was standing next to the previously mentioned Uncle John, and Uncle John who was standing across the street from us.
After about a minute of waiting, the parade begins, consisting entirely of even more bizarre clones of my great-great uncle, all of them in red and green plaid shirts and think, brown-rimmed glasses like one that the real Uncle John wore a lot. Most of them were going by foot, but there were a few on bicycles, one in a wheelchair, an old style pickup truck crammed with Uncle Johns. One of the most peculiar being a toddler Uncle John, with the head of the elderly uncle I knew, riding on the shoulders of a normal Uncle John as he walked down the street. This paraded lasted a few minutes, and half the pedestrian Uncle Johns u-turned across the neighbors lawns when it was over. Some of them went into our house, others into neighboring yards. The spectating Uncle Johns must have followed them without me noticing, since they weren't at their viewing spots when I looked back at where they were.
Mom and I waited a minute before going back to the house, where there was an even wider variety of Uncle Johns than the parade had. Uncle John doppelgängers took on the roles of old ladies in babushkas, a farmer in overalls and a red gingham shirt, a priest, some Franciscan monks, two clowns, and a baby who was in a cage for some reason. The dream ended soon after I saw the baby.

I will update this later, but for now I want to see how the formatting turned out, and I'm feeling too lazy to put up any more of my dreams.

Stay tuned for werewolves, chases, shrinking horses, offscreen folk dancing, odd camera angles, ostriches, disguises, disappointments, maps, trolls, mushrooms, and much, much more!

RE: Oneiric - DreamRebel - 06-24-2016 12:57 PM

Hidden stuff:
My grandmother chases me, and I run into the closet, which for some reason is not the closet, but a tunnel of red brick with an open other end. The closet is on the second floor of my house, but for some reason, it opens to the first floor without sloping. I dart out the front door, through an empty street from a large city, until I reach what looked much like a park aside from that my grandmother's got a cotswold cottage-ey thing there. Then I'm invisible as I witness her standing outside it, holding a violin and a cabbage on the end of a stick in front of a cowering dandy dressed in turquoise, apparently a creature from the creek nearby. He wasn't all wet though, apparently because she was keeping him captive.
"Please don't hurt me! And don't do anything to my fiddle," He says. "I need it dearly." His voice sounded like it was made higher pitched from fright.
"Oh shut up," grandma says, holding the violin by the neck in a fashion that suggested she was going to throw it. "Tell me where [my name, which I will withhold until I get a good reason not to] is and I might be merciful. Don't play dumb, either. I know she hangs out with stupid creatures like you."
"I'm not telling you anything, just let me go, please!"
There is more yelling on my grandma's part, and more pleading on the part of the dude, nondescript, sort of muffled like you see in the movies sometimes. Then she stomps on his violin in a rage. He shrieks, and then she bludgeons him with the cabbage until he lays dying, looking straight at me before his eyes close for the last time. My grandmother kicks him over so that he's face down. I run like hell.
The dream ends in a natural fashion.

Hidden stuff:
I was locked in a house with almost no furniture, and an open design, waiting to be bitten by a werewolf that wasn't even in there. I don't remember much about this one, which is odd since it came long after the one with Uncle John, and Uncle John, and Uncle John, etc.

Hidden stuff:
A friend of mine in the story is a troll, not unlike the trolls Humon normally draws. He is nobody I ever knew in real life. We have an ancient tome to look for, so we journey to "Iceland," and for some reason the journey is represented as a camera panning across a world map printed in brown ink. For some reason, the camera shows Antarctica, India, and Ireland, even though both the troll and I live in Michigan. Eventually we reach.... Royal Oak, which for some reason is in "Iceland."
We overhear a conversation about how a lioness escaped from the zoo, but nobody seems to actually be worried about being mauled by a big cat.
Soon night falls, and we find ourselves in a parking lot between what looks like a workshop with disassembled mannequins and brightly colored costume garments, and a used book store that has clear storage boxes on folding tables instead of shelves. The books are sorted by color and binding, and none of them are new. Upon quick examination, I don't find anything like what we're looking for, and I pace around outside while the troll does more extensive looking.
Then a vampire comes along. He bites me and drinks my blood.
"What the hell was that all about?" I snap when he's done.
He points down at the other end of the parking lot, Where a gigantic werewolf is trying to kill the escaped lioness, and he says "I've got to save that lion!"
Right then, the point of view changes to the lion's, where a guy with a rifle is approaching through the alley, his aim in her general direction, seeming to be the lion and not her furry assailant. Pinned down by the werewolf, there was no way to run. The werewolf's jaws open and surround the lion's throat, and the gun goes off.
It seems like the lion's doom, until the point of view is my own again, my jaw dropped as the werewolf drops like an expensive vase and the lion calmly follows the gunman, presumably to the zoo.
The troll walks out of the bookstore, looking confused, and he asks what happened, which I explain.
The vampire looks forlorn and guilty, and is mumbling sadly about how everything was all for nothing.
The troll looks even more confused, apparently not seeing the bite marks or anything.
I pat the vampire on the back, saying "Hey, at least you got a meal out of it."
I awaken before the dream was actually over, having to go to school.

Hidden stuff:
My grandmother makes me walk to the hospital, just before sunset. I am wearing only a white t-shirt, underpants, and sandals, having been sent in haste as she pushes me on. Small, brown mushrooms are growing from my toes, which I can't help but stare at the whole trip.
When we get there, the logical part with the waiting room is completely absent, a mistake noticed only in hindsight. We go straight to the exam room, no triage or anything despite it being the emergency room.
The doctor, a steely-haired man with a goatee, doesn't even look me over before my grandmother bombards him with assertions.
"She's undead!" My grandmother says frantically. "Just look at her feet!"
I roll my eyes.
"There's nothing going on with your kid, ma'am. Just go home. My shift is over and I want to get to my family."
"But she's undead," my grandmother insists.
The doctor rolls his eyes and starts out the door.
My grandmother follows him, still just repeating that I'm undead. She puts it no other way, nor does she cite evidence.
Eventually she gets frustrated, and we go home, when she insists I sleep in the closet on the grounds that being undead and all, sunlight might petrify me, to which I reply "that's for trolls, although I do have mushrooms growing on my feet. But I was already in sunlight."
"Well you still shouldn't be taking any chances."
I go into the closet, which for some reason is empty and has a window, and fall asleep there.
The dream ends naturally.

Oneiric - UnicornLionWolf - 06-24-2016 02:42 PM

Interesting. I'm not really sure why your dreams are better stories than what you conceive in your waking hours. However, I've heard that the subconscious affects our dreams. I'm not sure if that's helpful or not, but it's worth a try.
I know in my dreams there were times where things would happen that sound strange in my waking hours. I once had a dream where I went to Macau (it's a Chinese city that was once a Portuguese colony that now has a lot of gambling, and I don't plan on gambling) and saw the girl I liked in 3rd grade there. The girl I liked in 3rd grade wasn't even Chinese, she was Japanese. And I looked Macau up online and it didn't look like my dream. My dream had a bunch of old-style Chinese buildings. I know it's not as good a story as your dream but it's an example of how sometimes things in our dreams can seem strange in our waking hours.

RE: Oneiric - DreamRebel - 08-16-2016 05:54 PM

Hidden stuff:

This one's from a day before I posted this, and so is the next one.
I was in the mall with my grandmother near closing time. She was insisting we go home, but there was still things I needed at that very moment. Mrs. Fields cookies, and some kind of textile product that I can't remember.
We're near the exit, and for some reason there's Santa Claus holding a checkerboard. I can hear Train Tracks, by Jason Webley playing as I approach some sort of cookie stand. I stand parallel to the doors next to Santa for a few long seconds, and space seems to move up and down around me even though I stay in the same place until I approach the cookie stand.
It's cozy, with smooth molding, red walls, and christmas lights lighting it dimly. It's basically an open counter with cookies in baskets and various types of tea on self-serve taps.
I take a paper plate and put some lemon cookies on it, while focusing on the music. The song should have ended by now, but instead there's an extra verse that doesn't exist in real life. I get a excited that one of my favorite songs seems to have a professional recording with an extra verse and I rush to the register to pay for the cookies and ask about the song.
To my surprise it's my therapist, and he tells me that because it's me the cookies are on the house. I ask him about the song and its extra verse and he says he has a copy of it, holding up a CD with a weird dent in it, like somebody heated it until it was soft and then stabbed it with a sewing needle. He notices the dent before I say anything and places it on the counter. Then he hands me a cassette, but not like the sort for music. Apparently, the recording is on a VHS tape, which I decline, telling him I have no way to play it.
"Oh, okay," He says, "You know, I need to get the band back together, with Jason and the gang."
I was startled and ecstatic but I didn't get to voice it. My grandmother sort of yanked me away, calling me back and gesturing in the way she always does, the way that it's like she's criticizing me with motion.
I become apathetic, and tell my therapist goodbye as I go to her. When my back is completely turned to him, I immediately wake up in distress. The biggest thought on my mind was regret at not having taken the cassette. Maybe I'd have remembered if I accepted the cassette, instead of having absolutely no idea what that extra verse was.
I try to fall asleep again, so that maybe I could continue the dream so that I turn around and say I'd changed my mind and I'll see what I can do to play the tape. Instead, the next dream happens.

Hidden stuff:

There's this apartment that looks uncannily similar to my real house, and that's where my family lives. I'm in my bedroom and I walk into the closet, which for some reason is conjoined with the neighbor's closet, although an iron grate separates them. It doesn't reach all the way up to the ceiling though; A child sized hole is there.
For a moment all is quiet, but then suddenly a man shouting can be heard through the walls, as well as some pounding noises and a young boy crying. Then suddenly, the boy goes into his closet, and I sort of try to project "everthing will turn out fine one day" to him. I hear more thumping and suddenly the boy climbs over the storage boxes and jumps into my side.
I catch him and take him out into the room and I get my phone to call 911, but for some reason the concept is only dimly there, as though it hadn't actually been invented and I didn't know that here was no such system. My grandmother and my great-grandfather are shouting at me, telling me not to, so I hide my phone in my great-grandmother's room so they can't take it from me while I figure out what to do.
I'm all the way down the hall about to get some food when my mother comes up behind me, holding up my phone.
"What was your phone doing in ma's room?"
My mom wakes me up from this dream, IRL.

Hidden stuff:

This next dream happened long before these other dreams, and started this era where my dreams are no longer wells of absurdist humor but instead vignettes of disturbance that I can't easily make a coherent explanation of. Not only that, but I feel uncomfortable trying to explain this dream.
I'm walking down the street, trying to find my home. It's cloudy, and a disembodied voice sets a dreary and ominous mood.
"There will not be many suicides this season," the voice says, "The vultures have migrated and will not be here. The suicidal know that."
I kept walking, and I got to walking into other people's backyards, where there were all kinds of dogs. Each dog acted strangely, sort of angry and afraid, but like they were trying to contain it.
Eventually, I walked into one yard past an openly aggressive but nonviolent dog, where there were theses children in an empty hot tub.I asked if I could join them, and the oldest one nodded. I didn't participate in their conversation, nor do I even remember what they said.
The dogs gathered, loosely surrounding us. Like they had been herding me. Three of my old teachers came, and one of them told me to come to the fence. I did, and she put a hand on my shoulder and turned me to a board with these wires strung through holes in it, all pointing in different directions. Then she asked me which ones were pointing upwards. When I told her I didn't know, she said "Of course" as though I had thwarted a plan of hers.
The dream ended with the realization that somehow they were trying to kill me.
I woke up, distraught.

RE: Oneiric - DreamRebel - 08-19-2016 04:43 PM

These ones are all from yesterday night. I've noticed that even though I've been having a relatively healthy week and my dreams have gone back to being nice (mostly)
their quality has deteriorated. I don't even remember what order they came in, although normally sometimes I do and sometimes I don't.
Hidden stuff:

This dream only lasted seconds as a sequence paired with a concept, which scares me a little. It's also one of the few dreams I've had in extremely low saturation, almost grayscale. I normally dream in full color.
My grandmother and I go to a local frozen custard shop and buy several little styrofoam cups of both their soft serve custard and their scoopable ice cream with the intent to put them in our freezer. Before our order is completely filled the dream abruptly ends and transitions to the next one.

Hidden stuff:

This one's weird as hell. This dream, my sense of who the dog is is very skewed. I can't tell if the dog is me, the young man, or its own entity. I also can't tell what the dog's gender is. The character roles seem to change, or are unclear. Visibility in this dream makes things really ambiguous and my intuition is constantly changing and incomplete.
The point of view starts out as that of a young woman who isn't me, standing near a car. She pets a red coonhound that's in the back seat. In that moment I get this strong feeling that the dog is me. Then the POV woman shuts the door while looking at the silver sky, then makes eye contact with the driver, a young man with ginger hair. He nods to her, and starts driving.
The point of view switches to me, in the form I have in my waking life, not wearing a seatbelt. Intuition-narration says, "That dog is a shapeshifter and magical in other ways."
I look through the windshield at the tops of pine trees and the sky, still light yet evenly cloudy.
We got to our destination, a old style farmhouse in the countryside up north, surrounded by tall trees, in sunny weather. It's in fine condition aside from a section of roof on the front first floor, but I'll get into that later. In particular, it has a beautiful awning, vaguely shaped like a scallop, with red and blue stripes and a white star in the middle. I'm not particularly patriotic in the dream or in waking, but it looked really nice.
While I stand by the car admiring it, the man goes up to the house, and I start to follow him soon. He turns into my great grandfather, then climbs onto the roofing section I mentioned before. While he is my great grandfather, he is my great grandfather and there was nothing telling me he was my great grandfather the whole time, nor that he only looked like him.
I climb up behind him, and the moment I step onto it I hear a crackling creak and feel the roof buckle under my foot. I don't normally feel anything in my dreams, and it was only at that moment that I felt anything in this dream.
I step onto the awning, grab his hand, and tell him to get down. He climbs down and becomes the young man again, then I let go of his hand and climb down too.
I decide to run to the car and back. On the way back, I find the American themed awning leaning against the side of the house, a new awning put up by the young man or the magic dog. It was ugly, blocky, painted brown, and held up by wooden beams. It didn't even have a way to hang flower baskets.
"Why did you take down the old awning and replace it? This new one looks ugly!" I disgustedly say, in my stage voice. I keep staring at the awning as I say it.
It feels like the dog/man is coming but then the dream ends and transitions.

Hidden stuff:

There's this room in a preschool, where the teacher made me help a sick kid pick up blue and yellow foam blocks.
When I finish, I walk to my audition for the "Singing Olympics" where there are two ahead of me, both sixty year old men auditioning separately.
While they each make their auditions, I scroll through the notes on my phone to decide what I'd sing.
I decide it will either be Cinnamon Bone, Blue Eyes Crying In The Rain, or The Hearse Song.
Before I decide which one of those it would be, I'm jarred by one of the judges saying something bad about deaf people. I don't remember what, but I do remember it was really blatant.
I demand she apologize for her ableist rant, but she refuses, and I storm off.
I don't wake up directly after this dream, but for some reason it feels like the dream ended before it should have.

RE: Oneiric - James Comey - 08-19-2016 05:48 PM

(06-24-2016 02:42 PM)UnicornLionWolf Wrote:  Interesting. I'm not really sure why your dreams are better stories than what you conceive in your waking hours. However, I've heard that the subconscious affects our dreams. I'm not sure if that's helpful or not, but it's worth a try.
I know in my dreams there were times where things would happen that sound strange in my waking hours. I once had a dream where I went to Macau (it's a Chinese city that was once a Portuguese colony that now has a lot of gambling, and I don't plan on gambling) and saw the girl I liked in 3rd grade there. The girl I liked in 3rd grade wasn't even Chinese, she was Japanese. And I looked Macau up online and it didn't look like my dream. My dream had a bunch of old-style Chinese buildings. I know it's not as good a story as your dream but it's an example of how sometimes things in our dreams can seem strange in our waking hours.

That's pretty much interesting. I have an old dream log that I used to update quite frequently, though I haven't used it in about 2 years. Still, some very interesting dreams during a pretty tumultuous time.

Hidden stuff:

Night of 2/16/14

I'm trying to be more consistent on my dream log as well as re-calling the dreams more detailed. It's 7 in the morning where I live, so there's a reason I'm posting here.

The first dream involved me and a few other SS members were on a road trip to Los Angeles. Why? I think we ere all going to attend some kind of anti-schooling convention or we were holding up some kind of meet up, I don' know. I was travelling with 4 or 5 members in his red Chevy Suburban. I think I feel asleep during the dream and then I woke up (false awakening) and then I remember seeing a lot of suburbs with the sun rising and the sky being extremely blue and I think we were exiting a highway. I asked, "where are we?" and someone replied, "We're in the San Fernando Valley". I asked, "why?" and that person told me that "we were going to LA!".

I was confused as to why we were going to LA but I played along with it, because I always wanted to go to Los Angeles (haven't been there in 12 years). I believe eventually we got to the Hollywood area, and I remember walking around and fooling around a bit. I remember we all walked into this cafe and I think that was where the meeting was. I decided to roam a bit and I was talking to some customers. I don't remember those conversations. Unfortunately, it ended right there.

EDIT: I re-call an important part of the dream. In the middle of the dream, we stopped at this town in between LA and the Bay Area. We went to this strip mall and there was this restaurant we all decided to eat at. Apparently, there were these monsters or villains which I can't exactly re-call what they look like and apparently they challenged me to a dance competition. I turned on the karaoke and put "Echa pa'lla" by Pitbull and outdanced them. We left after that.

This one's a bit more soul-crushing,yet also confusing so bear with me here.

I think this dream started off as me taking some kind of standardized test. It was a confusing test and I vaguely remember some of the questions and answers. They were quite humorous and I just answered them. I think the classroom later erupted into a bunch of teachers fighting each other over whether the test made any sense. I think I was just confused as hell, and I didn't know what was going on.

Then, the dream shifted. What the hell? Well, for some reason, I was transported into Yankee Stadium, for no apparent reason, and I remember sitting seeing the field. I keep seeing a home run getting hit, and funny enough the stadiums keep changing into various ones in the MLB. Eventually the dream involving the Oakland Coliseum invoked a home run being hit, but when the ball went over the wall, it then all of a sudden was heading towards me, and by that time I caught it, perfectly. Everyone was applauding me, and I genuinely felt I was the best person there ever was. I was like, "damn, I'm the shit!".

Then, the dream shifted AGAIN. This was one strange ass dream. I think it now involved some guy and me drilling concrete. We were doing a documentary about underground people. However, these giant rats started coming out. I ran away but these giant rats tried to eat me. However, I used the power of lucid dreaming to destroy them (I've always had the ability to destroy enemies in dreams, whether it be by using powers of by simply going to the pause screen and use "Load Game"). i think at that point I got home. No, make it a place that looked a LOT like home, but was school at the same time.

I went to "my room" and I remember just sitting down and wondering, "what a fucking crazy day" and laughing a bit. There was a bag of Hollister clothing that was far too tight for me anyway, but that was directly given to me as a gift for some reason. I remember reading the card, "George, this is for being a great friend. ♥ Mia". Mia being some girl I knew from middle school but I honestly don't talk to her now. I was wondering why the fuck I got this and why the fuck did she think tight clothing was a good present for me.

I remember shifting back and forth between the bathroom and my room. I was going to take a shower and I was looking for my clothes. I kept running back and forth looking for clothes. Either forgetting a certain garment, having second thoughts about wearing that garment, and one time I even ran into some other kids room that looked a lot like mine's, just not exact. I remember looking out the window and I noticed the landscape looked a lot like my backyard, but not exact (for example, I could see hills). Some guy was watering his backyard lawn and the water got through the window, and I remember yelling at him, "douchebag!".

What I remember though perfectly though was that there was a classroom right in front of where I was walking back and forth. Guess who was in that class? The girl I have a crush on. I didn't have class for some reason (was that test the CHSPE? Laugh). The girl I have a crush on kept looking at me as I kept running back and forth (oh, just to clear this up, I was not naked in this dream). The rest of the class ignored me and was, you know, your normal high school class. However, the girl kept looking at me as I kept running back and forth. I noticed quickly, and I wondered if I kept running back and forth she'd still notice me or get annoyed. Eventually, as I kept running back and forth, and that girl kept looking at me, the final time where I said, "finally, now I can take that shower!" she just gets up from her seat and says, "Hey George, I have a picture of you!" on her phone. I remember seeing it and saying, "Aww..... thanks". We hugged for about 5 seconds and during those 5 seconds I really thought this was all real. Unfortunately for me, reality set in, and I woke up.

Oneiric - DreamRebel - 08-19-2016 06:40 PM

That last dream though. XD

Oneiric - James Comey - 08-21-2016 05:30 PM

I miss when my dreams were awesome and epic Razz

Oneiric - DreamRebel - 08-22-2016 03:56 PM

I know! There's nothing better than an epic dream.

RE: Oneiric - DreamRebel - 09-12-2016 07:49 AM

Hidden stuff:

My school is huge and Hogwartsey, but containing a local fancy grocery store from which I shoplift for my lunch, eating alone amongst marble tables until the day before the school play, where I move away from the olives and salads and look at the noodles, the sausages, and then finally.... The vampire hunting paraphernalia.
They have tiny bottles of holy water in packaging something like tabasco sauce, religious articles, aspen stakes, things made of silver, bundles of various types of thorn branches, etc, all in a chest style refrigerator for some reason. I grab the tabasco holy water, and head to the checkout where my grandmother is waiting and pays for it. The dream ends naturally, though I can't remember if there's another part I forgot or if that went to a different dream.

Addendum: I might as well put up the thing I forgot. It seems to fit, anyway.

So my grandma and I are going home. For some reason she's in the car and I'm riding ahead in a tricycle. Then, I stop as a train approaches, an old steam engine. For some reason, the tracks ran parallel to the road. And Harry Belafonte is in the cab of the train, singing.
"Day-o Daaayo"
Then I join in, pulling over the tricycle.
"Daylight comes and me wan' go home"
The music stops right after that, and when I look away from the train with Harry Belafonte, there's a small crowd of people on the nearby hill, cheering for me like I'm a hero or something.
The train comes between us, and Harry Belafonte sings again, but this time when I try to sing along, no matter how hard I try, I can't get in sync even though everybody else was also singing along now and in perfect harmony. Then I "realize" I'm in a movie and that my failure to sing right was supposed to be funny, so I screw up even more, intentionally to play along.

RE: Oneiric - DreamRebel - 09-30-2016 03:52 PM

This one's from a few nights ago.
Hidden stuff:

It's a cloudy day, and none of the lights are on in the school where my Polish dance troop held their final recital of the year. Oh, except the school is connected to a mall, and Polish dance troop has nothing to do with this dream.
I walk from the hall into the room the girls are supposed to change in, where another girl is walking out, wearing "period costume" that was really just fancy modern clothing, a black skirt and jacket above a lacy textured, black blouse with daisies embroidered on it in only white. In the room is a bunch of long tables, and at the far end is my grandmother talking with my principal from the first grade, an elderly Felician nun. Sitting in the corner with a gym bag is one of my friends, a classmate from my current school.
"Why aren't you dressed for the play?" yaps grandma, but it doesn't faze Sister or my schoolmate, neither of whom were known to ignore when people are mean.
"What play?" I ask frightenedly, as though I'd merely been given a surprising high-pressure situation and not also barked at.
Sister calmly tells me that I'll be playing the part of the Grim Reaper and hands me my costume for he role. A marvelous cloak, the inner side being navy satin and the outside being black damask, and the hood of which was oversized with particular weight at the sides; It had a round, solid, silver buckle at the front that was about the size of a moderately large coat button. The other part was a child-sized prop scythe that was obviously from Party City. You'd think that if the cloak would be so fancy then they'd at least get a scythe better suited to my height, or better yet hire somebody to make a better looking replica, or order good one from a more upstanding provider. And there was no measures taken to make me appear even slightly more deathly than a lady in a fancy cloak holding an undersized scythe that was obviously fake, even to the untrained eye.
I was excited about performing though, particularly elated by my role, as I proudly marched off to change in one of the store's fitting rooms, even though I could have just put the cloak on right there. My classmate followed me, saying she also needed to change.
We walked a long ways, until about when we passed an old woman in a peach blazer who stood behind a podium, where she just turned around and I walked alone until I reached a stand that sold soup and ice cream. I figured to buy some but couldn't decide, so I turned away and something even weirder caught my eye. There was rough cardboard on a table, and on that cardboard were a bunch of huge earthworms that were laying weird eggs. Those eggs were charcoal gray, the size and shape of chickpeas, and looked like spider egg sacks. I touched one of the eggs, and it felt like an old lady's hand.
I went away from the worms, all the way to the end of the mall, right by the doors, when I hear wheels rolling and footsteps, and turn around. A quiet parade, headed by Donald Trump being pushed on a plywood throne with wheels, and stopping right by me.
I look him in the face with a triumphant expression on my own, taunting him without missing a beat, singing in an opera voice.
"Donald Trump is king of America, and he is arrogant UUUU SSSSSS AAAAAAAAAAA Divided States of Embarrassment"
Then I slap him on the arm, but he doesn't react to any of it. Then I wake up.

RE: Oneiric - DreamRebel - 04-15-2017 08:11 AM

Hidden stuff:

This dream is from the metal hospital, where I had a lot of sleep paralysis and weird sensations when I was trying to awaken. I didn't remember the dreams much, though.
I walk my grandmother through a maze of staircases. She has a test to take before she is relocated, and nobody knows what the test is unless they have taken it.
When I hug her and we say our goodbyes, I walk away and read a sign on a door.
It reads: "This door contains paradise, relaxation, tranquil ponds and fences, and many sloth women."
I open the door a crack, and though it I see daylilies growing around a pond.
I then go to the mall and look around, eventually coming to a food court that is in the middle of amphitheater style seating. The only non-abandoned stand is for frozen yogurt.
Then a fat, blonde woman tackles me to the ground and shoves her hand through my stomach.
I wake up paralyzed, trying to force myself to move, and still feeling like there's something in my abdomen aside from my own intestines.

Hidden stuff:

This one is vaguely similar to the previous, but from years before it. The previous dream reminded me of this one, by virtue of the food court.
I'm in the mall, my hands on a flat surface where my face ought to be. The food court is completely dark aside from one stand, where a middle aged man with a mustache is cleaning up. I approach him, thinking I can scare him by removing my hands and showing him my facelessness.
Instead, he growls "You're one of those stupid nopperabou pranksters! Well you aren't so hot like you think" and jumps over the counter. He grabs the back of my shirt and walks me to the snowy parking lot, where my grandmother is waiting. She is also barking mad, and I awaken at this point.

Hidden stuff:

This dream, and the one after it, are from after my hospitalization.
Either we were going to be bombed or a tornado was coming. Either way, I had to get all of my stuffed animals into the basement. My family was disinterested in their own survival, my grandmother even sleeping though the whole ordeal.
My mother walks into the bathroom, closes the door, then calls me.
In the sink is a pickle that has a fish's face and fins.

Hidden stuff:

My mother walks me through automated hospital doors, like they have in emergency rooms. We come to a doorway with a room full of fish tanks thick with guppies, danios, and tetras.
We come to a table at the bottom of a staircase, where a woman gives me crackers, cheese, and wasabi peas, telling me that it will be my last meal as a human.
I tell her I won't eat until my grandmother comes, but my grandmother never comes so I do eat them.
Then I'm lead up the stairs, where I'm handed lemons. I'm told to squeeze the juice on my shirt collar and sleeves to keep the bugs out, so I do.
Just when they open the next door, I wake. I wish I could have finished this one, but of course I had to spontaneously awaken at the wrong time.

Oneiric - James Comey - 04-15-2017 09:18 AM

God damn some of these dreams could be stories.

Oneiric - DreamRebel - 04-16-2017 03:59 AM

Yeah, if I weren't too lazy to make them into stories they would be. In fact, they still might be one day.

Oneiric - James Comey - 04-16-2017 05:02 AM

You could always draw them out like I do with my childhood fantasies and delusions.

Oneiric - DreamRebel - 04-17-2017 01:46 AM

I might, one day then.

Oneiric - James Comey - 04-17-2017 02:31 AM

Drawing is much easier than writing an entire damn story.

Oneiric - DreamRebel - 04-17-2017 07:28 AM


Hidden stuff:

I lived in a building that was part orphanage, part mall, part school, part hospital part.... dystopia. I call it The Facility. It was vague, but nobody had a name and none of the children ever left the building until there was a fire in the very back of the building. The evacuation was slow, and I had to do a lot of convincing to get one class to clear out.
I was then strapped to a stretcher, where some nurses talked over me with a tone of voice like I was about to be eaten. I don't remember what they say, but when I say there's a fire they release me.
When I get out of the building, two of my IRL friends drives me to their house and I fall asleep in their basement. That's when I dream within a dream that those nurses were demons and I was back on that stretcher and they were drawing my blood with a regular old needle.... But they planned on drinking it and exsanguinating me to death.
I awaken back at The Facilty, surrounded by dream friends. One of them looks like Harry Potter, for some reason. We are discussing my dream and how we should start an uprising against the demon vampire nurses, and how to do that without getting in trouble.
Later, Harry Potter (except without a name) lunges at a wall of television screens, scratching one. He is not caught.
Later than that Nameless Harry is being chased by other kids, yelling "Glowing eyes don't run in my family! They don't!"
And later still, we have another meeting, sans two of the kids. we talk about how we're getting nowhere, when suddenly I run for the door yelling "I'm an imperfect flower and I'm running away from your perfect garden!"
That's when a tall, dark haired woman in a black velvet dress tries to grab me, and I run like hell past her. I run up the stairs and to a crowd of kids. I hug one, because they had helped me before. Then, I run off again. The woman is chasing me still, and I have to find one of my dream friends to hug them one last time.
Meanwhile, the woman is gaining on me, and I am near another group of friends. I tell her I'll go with her if she'll let me hug everybody who's ever helped me with anything.
One of the kids hugs me and tells me that he's helped me, and I hug him back.
The woman tries to grab my arm again, and I run back downstairs, and I hug the kids who were at our rebellion meeting. Then, she grabs me, and just then I wake up.
I wanted to know what happens to me, but I can't get back to sleep.