Last night I dreamt that I was at school with my friend, who had become pregnant by another mutual friend. She was laughing about the whole thing, insisting that she would get an abortion and everything would be fine. Meanwhile, the guy who had gotten her pregnant wanted her to keep the baby, and even went so far as to say that he would still have sex with her while she was pregnant. I had met with my pregnant friend to talk to her about this, after which I got on a campus bus to get home. The bus stopped half way up a hill because there was something blocking the road, so we all got off to see. A student, who I knew/know very well, was holding two machine guns and shooting students on the street. I saw this and immediately began ducking behind cars, running down the hill, but of course he pursued me. Just as I reached the bottom, and he was right behind me, another bus pulled up with my dad driving. The shooter held a gun to my head as we boarded the bus, and he told me he was only shooting non-French people. My dad overheard this, and immediately told him that we are French-Canadian, even throwing in a couple phrases. The shooter seemed skeptical, but let us go, and I watched him hijack somebodys car. I didn’t care, and told my dad to drive us out of Burlington as I called 911. In the dream, I couldn’t remember the number “911” to call, so my Dad had to tell me (important detail). Finally I got it right, after fucking up the number so many times, and a woman answered. She was crying, and I told her about the shooter, to which she responded tearfully “Yes, he’s holding a gun to my vertebrae right now.” Somehow I figured out that the shooter went to the 911 operator, waited for me to call, and as soon as I did call he began tracking the cell phone. I heard a malicious laugh on the other end, and I threw the phone out the window of the bus. Then I woke up.
I took a ten minute nap today and managed to have an unexpected lucid dream. It was such a shallow (??) nap that I was still sort of aware despite being asleep, it was weird. So I dreamt that I was in a supermarket in the shape of a pentagon, and I was carrying large bags of vegetables and fruit. I realized that the dream was really boring and that it was my dream and I could do whatever I wanted, so I flung the bags of produce in every direction and did a kung-fu esque jump into the air completely in slow-mo, and just sort of drifted above the shoppers, flying around, and then I woke up.
I had a dream last night in which I continuously fell down a very deep cave and landed at the bottom, completely alone. My cellphone would then ring, drawing the attention of nearby wolves, who would come and rip me to shreds. This sequence of events happened three or four times, but finally someone was at the bottom of the cave with me, and they helped me fight off the wolves, allowing the dream to continue.
I haven’t had a dream like this in a really long time.
One so vivid and real. I mean, I’m sure I have, and usually intend on writing about them for my dream posts, but generally I forget… So I just woke up and still have the dream somewhat fresh in my mind. I’ll call this one “The Workshop”.
hard to follow, i guess
Okay, I haven’t written about a dream in a while, mostly because I’ve been busy and haven’t really payed much attention to them. However, something should be said for the amount of night terrors I experience on a regular basis. Since coming to college and having a roommate, the night terrors have essentially gone away, but on the two weekends that I have gone home for visits (to my mother’s creepy ancient house) I’ve had very vivid and strange night terrors, which I would count as “almost” dreams.
The one I had more recently came while I was napping at around 5 pm last friday night. My friend was staying over with me, and was sleeping in a bed in the same room as mine, right next to mine. I remember my mother coming into the room at one point while I was napping (and my friend was on her computer) and getting some sheets from my closet, but I also was aware of a fourth person in the room. It was a young woman in her twenties with very blonde hair, and she was climbing all over my friend’s bed and walking around the room. I dunno, I remember feeling really okay and normal about her being in the room, and I sort of faded in and out of sleep. When I finally woke up, I walked to the other side of the room to see where the woman was hiding, and it slowly dawned on me that it was just a dream. Crazy shit.
Alright, so last night I dreamt that my mother and father had invited a man to come live with us because he had been abandoned by his family. He was probably around nineteen or twenty, and considered the most intelligent man to have ever existed, surpassing that of even Einstein. He was also deeply spiritual, despite devoting his life to very scientific endeavors, and millions of people around the world revered him as a messiah. I was scared of him, and didn’t want to see him or talk to him when he came. My dad set him up in a bedroom next to mine. I wanted nothing to do with him, but as he walked into the house, I peeked at him from my hiding spot in the loft. He had a really dark beard and large glasses, but was strong and youthful. Over the next few nights, he ate dinner with us, and often asked me questions about myself, or directed to conversation towards me. He wanted to know everything about me, from what music I liked to what I was studying in school and what subjects I liked. Every time I spoke to him, his face lit up, but I still decidedly hated him.
It was obvious to me and my family that he was falling in love with me, but for some reason that made me hate him even more. He was making tremendous amounts of progress in his work, but there were many people of high power who did not like him and wanted to stop his work. So, my family was then tasked to protect him as well. And although I hated him, I did feel the overwhelming sense to protect him at all costs, because I knew that he helped millions of people with his research.
Anyways, the only other part of the dream, and arguably the most important part, was that I was in some sort of computer facility where the guy worked, and for some reason a group of men started grabbing me and punching me. So the guy just like came over and beat the shit out of all three of them, and it was one of those incredibly cheesy moments in the movies where I like got up and hugged him really tight and I can remember that he smelled really really good. I remember his smell the most from the dream.
The Fatal Insurance Policy
Okay, last night’s dream really has me freaked out. In it, my father had taken out some sort of insurance policy on me so that when I died, my family would get a huge amount of money. My father then hired a large and powerful group of agents to kill me so that he would receive the money. I was home alone one day while my dad was at work (as it usually is during the summer when I’m not working) and I see a group of men with guns and explosives charging up my driveway. Immediately knowing that they were here to kill me, I ran up to my bedroom to hide. I did that cool thing from spy movies where I pushed myself up to the ceiling and held myself there on the walls, but they saw me, and started putting explosives everywhere. I jumped out the window just in time, and fell three stories to the ground. I ran into my neighbors house as the men continued to blow up my home. At my neighbors house, a bunch of college age girls were living there, and they were trying to help me hide. First I hid in the bathtub, and they distracted the agents, but the agents shot and killed most of them, so I ran into a bedroom and cut open a huge teddy bear, hiding inside. However, I soon realized that there was no point, they would find me eventually, and too many people had already died for me. So I went down to be killed by the men, only to find that they were nowhere to be found. Then I woke up.
This morning, just before I woke up, I had a very vivid and frightening dream. My father was driving me in his car to the psychiatric hospital, so that I could meet with my therapist one last time before I went off to college. We were on the highway right by the hospital when we saw a woman in a wedding gown running down the middle of the highway. My dad pulled up right behind her, inching closer and closer to the hysterical running bride. I begged him to stop the car and pull over, but it was too late, as he accelerated and ran over the woman with out car. I screamed in terror, hearing her body hit beneath the car as he sped away. I just remember screaming “She’s dead! You killed her! She’s fucking dead!” He pulled into the hospital, into a secluded parking lot. I hurriedly dialed 9-1-1 as my father continued to be apathetic about the incident. I cried into the phone that a woman had been hit on the highway by the hospital, that I knew she was dead, but I didn’t dare mention that it was my father who had hit her. I remember the operator asking if the woman was bloody, which I thought was strange. My father then snatched the phone out of my hands, saw that I had called for help, and frustratedly said, “You called the cops? We’re in big trouble now. You shouldn’t have done that.” He could have cared less that he had just killed a woman in a particularly gory way, no less in front of his daughter. I felt so torn between staying loyal to my father and lying to the authorities, or doing what is right and telling the truth. I knew that they would find out sooner or later that he had done it. Then I woke up.