I had a weird dream

[ChubbyTeletubby]

GUYS LEAVE MEGA ALONE!!!!!!

He's got enough stress as it is! Why do you guys keep being mean to him! He's just a little rim ram!

[Megamantn]

But this shit is who I am... are you threatening me again, Mega?

Are you sucking your own cock again? Maybe I'll call you, Dicky the midget faggot.

Do as the teletubby says. FYI, I ain't little.

[Vesnic]

I just awoke from my slumbers in a tremulous state of terror, convinced the apocalypse had arrived. Here's why:

I dreamed I was dreaming, lying serenely in bed next to a large bowl of round blue pills when a demonic impulse told my slumbering mind that I should proceed to consume all of the pills in that bowl. Instead, I started dropping them in neat little rows on my floral bedsheets, apparently because there was some good force counteracting the evil one and trying to save me. Where the pills had been, brownish rust stains spread out over the sheets. I woke from the dream within a dream beside myself with worry about whether or not I had in fact had so many pills. The doctor was by my bedside and just sort of nodded serenely at me, in a sort of dithering old-man way. But I knew then I couldn't stay in bed, so I ventured outside to find myself in...

Mexico! Not real, buy bootleg on the street from legless vagrants Mexico, but adobe cactus Speedy Gonzales Mexico. I was there with my mother and she ventured right into a saloon that I knew (I just knew!) was inhabited by extremely evil men. When the saloon door swung open, I saw an otherworldly mariachi band singing a satanic song about how no one is allowed to move when they dance. I saw them drag my mother off.

"But she doesn't move when she dances!" I protested. "She dances in her heart!"

One passerby said I couldn't go in that way, so I understood at once that this meant I must tunnel below and come up through the basement door leading to the saloon's kitchen. No one stopped me as I made my way through, but then as I cracked the basement door open, I saw that the evil mariachi band were slowly morphing into dogs or jackals or something. They also seemed to be decomposing, with black liquid slime running out of their eyes.

"Mama! Mama!" I screamed. She smiled at me and sort of shuffled over in my direction, seemingly unconcerned. But there was something strange about her. I started muttering to myself very fast, repeating everything that had been said, trying to find the one important key to the puzzle that I had missed...

Then, from another room, a man shouted twice for help. But I couldn't understand his words.

"What?! What?!" I called out in panic, my eyes flying open as my heart filled again with dread and the absolute certainty that the End of Everything was mere seconds away.

Then I got a glass of water and went here to resurrect an old dream thread and regale you with the tale. Don't think I'll be sleeping again any time soon.

[End Master]

So did the Slender Man or The Rake get you yet?

[Vesnic]

I had the craziest dream last night...

My dreams tend to play out like Hollywood movies. Most of them have plots and a healthy sense of adventure. There's always an objective and a brave crew of heroes willing to take on the odds for the sake of goodness... or for the sake of themselves. Which is funny, since I'm not all that crazy about comics or adventure movies. I didn't think they occupied a large space in my subconscious. However...

I'm on an airplane with a large group of girls, so I assume it's a school trip to...somewhere. At the beginning of the dream, I have absolutely no information about what's going on or where I"m headed, but that doesn't seem to bother me. I zone out in my usual peaceful dissociative state, only coming to when I hear a lot of remarking around me about how closely we're flying to the trees, and are we gonna just land already? True 'nuff, we're brushing by large branches of old oaks, barely miss a church steeple, and yet we don't continue downwards to actually land. Once, we make a go of it, but the road (yes, the road), takes a sudden turn, so the pilot lifts back up. At this point I assume we're in some kind of serious dutch, since we're not landing on a proper runway. But no one around me is any more informed than I am. Finally, we find a long stretch of road to put down, making an easy landing and coming to an amazingly quick halt amidst some cars on the highway. We all start clapping for joy, but I notice that none of the people outside seem very happy about what's just happened. In fact, they seem vaguely hostile.

The pilot pulls over to the side of the road and promptly disappears from site. We all get out to look around. It looks very much like a Massachusetts town, with shady elms and big town squares and brick and wood buildings and churches with big steeples. Suddenly, I remember where it was we were supposed to have landed.

"This isn't Costa Rica!" I blurt out. "This looks like Boston."

And, I swear to God, even though we've just been through a harrowing emergency landing and I don't know where we are, the only thought going through my mind is how annoying the delay will be, and how much it will mess up our plans, and couldn't we have crashed a little closer to our final destination? (Apparently, I'm a petty and clueless person...in my dreams!)

"No, this is Langley, Virginia," someone corrects me.

"Oh..."

We start deplaning, but I notice right away that no one is taking any of their things with them. Not even their important things...like passports and money and phones with emergency numbers on them. They all trudge off in a big herd, disappearing around the corner. The door of the plane opens just like that of a city bus, and it's been left ajar (for heavens sake!) so I squeeze in and find my purse and other essentials. I shake my head at everyone else's carelessness. When I get up from what I'm doing, I discover I am not alone. Several Latin American peasants have boarded my bus, and they are rooting around in my friends' belongings.

(Dream from here on out spoken mostly in Spanish because, lo and behold, we did actually make it to Costa Rica!)

"Hey, what are you doing?" I ask them. They ignore me. In fact, they give me some pretty icy looks so I figure maybe now is the time to find my little group.

A gang of not-very-nice-looking young men are waiting at the door for me. They push me around and I end up sprawling on the pavement. Amazingly, they don't actually mug me. Or rape me. Looking around, I notice that one person has stayed behind for me, someone who is merely "chaperone" in this dream, yet who bears an uncanny resemblance to my college philosophy professor, so she is tall and fair with dark hair and blue eyes. Real black-Irish.

"Hey," she says, "there you are. We've gotta do something about this."

So I, ever stubborn and brave in the face of real danger, start shouting at these peasants in my best imperious/imperial displeased whitey voice, "Vayanse, vayanse!"

And just like that, they leave. But the plane is now trashed and uninhabitable.

My professor/chaperone/friend leads me around the corner where the group has gone. We enter a grotesque-looking building resembling an urban YMCA with several beat-up floors of steel, concrete and brick. We go up the stairs and I find myself in a huge dining hall where I am absolutely obligated to get something to eat, even if I don't want to eat it. I assume my group is here, but as I'm leaving with my tray to find a seat, I can't see any of them (including the chaperone). I sit down across from a young man who's obviously American and who says to me,

"This is a very precarious situation."

"You mean the crash?"

"No. I mean the government."

"What?"

"Follow me."

He looks this way and that really nervously, and I see in that moment that he's wearing a bug of some sort, so I gulp down my food as I wonder what the g-men want with me.

He leads me through an absolutely labyrinthine network of green hallways with linoleum floors. Finally, we come into a room and again sit face-to-face at what looks very much like a polygraph machine. But he doesn't hook me up or anything. Instead he says,

"We need you to perform a certain task."

"Where the hell are my friends?" I practically yell in frustration. He ignores me.

"Follow me."

And again we're walking in some untraceable direction until we finally come to a room with a thin blue carpet and a huge plastic plant in the corner. There is a heavy door at the end of this room and a thick smell of swampy water.

"You need to feed the snake," he says, pushing me through the door and locking it behind me.

I find myself in a large natatorium...you know, a pool. Except the water is murky and opaque and there are strange little boardwalks crossing this way and that, nearly covering the entire space. I don't actually have anything with which to feed this snake.

But there he is. And he is very, very hungry. This is the most enormous snake I have ever seen. It is long, yet with a huge circumference and the powerful snapping jaws of an alligator. It locks eyes with me, with a look of pure, unchangeable malice. I understand now what it means to "feed the snake". It comes after me with alarming force, poking its head up in the spaces between the decks. I back up to the very edge of the room, where there is only wood, but realize with horror that even this is not safe, as the wood covers water here as well. The snake-alligator's head comes crashing right through the thick floor, sending splinters in all directions. I take one final leap back against the wall, so the creatures manages only to hook the end of my shirt cuffs in his obscenely long fangs. This pisses him off no end and I begin to scream and scream and scream.

Just in time, the door opens and I'm pulled back inside by the young spook. He looks aggravated.

"Now look what we'll have to do," he says, pointing towards a huge floor-to-ceiling cage absolutely stuffed with adorable white puppies. I reach inside the cage and the cutest puppy among them licks my hand happily. I shudder at the thought that in just a few more moments, this sweet life form will be destroyed. I feel overwhelming guilt too; if only I had sacrificed myself to the predator, all these wonderful puppies would have been saved.

"No," I shout. "Noooo!!"

The guy shakes his head. "That old bitch in the corner gave birth to them. She can't stand them."

Just as he is opening the cage door to spill out directly into the lair of the snakigator, I run from the room, not caring where I end up, just wanting to get away from this evil man and that evil monster.

[Vesnic]

cont'd.


I find myself at a series of elevators, surrounded by some really rough-looking types who clearly don't care for my presence there. I jump into the first elevator that arrives. No one follows me. I somehow deduce that I must get as high up as I possibly can, as far away from this ground floor as is physically possible.

I press the 7 button.

The elevator goes. And goes. And goes. Why is this taking so long? Suddenly it lurches and starts to smoke and tilt forward. The 7 button, now burned out, has changed to a 17. The unbearable heat makes me start to sweat and feel very dizzy when finally the door opens and I spill right out onto the floor. I find myself in what looks to be a huge barracks, the walls lined on all sides with bunk beds which continue out into the middle of the room. The room is occupied by a bunch of shirtless twelve-year-old boys.

"Hey, get out of here!" one of them shouts angrily at me.

Again, I'm on the run, making another mad dash through twisting hallways and bunk rooms which never seem to contain my long-lost school group. I stop short in one of these rooms, coming face to face with that same gang of thugs who threw me on the street. They look at one another. Then they look at me. I get the point.

Running now with incredible speed, I somehow manage to find a down staircase and start to almost fly my way to the bottom, jumping in great leaps and bounds with an absolutely "parkour" athleticism I could only dream of in waking hours. I leave them in the dust, coming back out into the lobby...

...Where I find my school group sitting calmly on couches and chairs, some of them reading magazines. The trip leader looks at me and she is not happy.

"Where the fuck were you?"

"I'm sorry...I was trying to guard the bus. People were squatting in it. They were stealing our stuff."

A few of my friends smile at me, but the trip leader only scowls more deeply and I know I am no longer welcome there.

I begin to wander the hallways aimlessly, looking out the window at what appear to be increasingly agitated people on the street. Somebody grabs my arm. It's my chaperone!

"What are you doing here? We need to find safety."

She leads me into a small room with thick soundproof walls. Sitting there is that horrible secret agent guy, who has apparently now finished the job of feeding the puppies to the snakigator.

"Can't you see we're in the middle of a coup?" he asks, gesturing to the high window, through which I can just barely see a riot breaking out on the street. Molotov cocktails start flying in all directions.

"But we're safe here, right?"

"Not necessarily."

"But we're safe here, right?"

"Not necessarily."

"BUT WE'RE SAFE HERE, RIGHT?"

"No. We're not."

And there's nowhere left to run.

It was in that moment of terror, confusion and exhaustion that I opened my fearful little eyes and squeaked, "Heeeelllp!"

Tee hee!

[Locke]

Your dreams are insanely detailed and continuous. Mine to tend to be more abstract, or vignettes, and are mostly silent.

Last night was an exception, as it consisted of a concert by one of my favorite bands, Marillion. The only downside was one of the songs I really hoped they'd perform, which they used for the sound check, with H, the lead singer, going through it at about twice the normal speed like he really wanted to get it over with.

I have more flying/driving dreams than is probably usual, but there are good reasons for that. The driving dreams - at least before I'd done any serious road tripping - were the worst. Insane speeds, hopelessly convoluted traffic patterns, and roads that did vertical loops, had like seventy-degree inclines that suddenly ended over the ocean, and otherwise made no sense. And I'm a very good driver. Sometimes the car would just go away and leave me to skid out along the road. In the worst of those, I'm either falling asleep or somehow impaired, driving, and I can't stay awake or pull over or speak loudly enough for anyone to hear. Or I become the road, and they send heavy equipment out for resurfacing - scrapers, steamrollers, hot asphalt, the works. I don't get those much anymore.

I'm familiar with wanting to do something in a dream but just not being able to think or make sense of anything. I think the best ones have been cathartic, where I feel some sense of resolution or an emotion - usually profound sorrow - that I can't experience in waking life. Or just peaceful - sitting on a mountainside somewhere with a spectacular view - or transcendental, becoming something more than myself (but then I have to wake up...). "Exploration" dreams are a lot of fun, too.

The strangest are the false awakenings. I had about five in one night sometime last year, and each time felt absolutely real. Once somebody was tapping me on the shoulder, and there was this really creepy little kid in the room. I sat up (still dreaming) to yell at him to get out, but he was gone. I'd caught on by the third or fourth "awakening" that night - I knew what was happening - but I still had no idea what was real.

I guess if there's an overall theme to the negative dreams, it's a general sense of absurdity and a lack of control over life. They've calmed down considerably over the past year or two, though. Rarely anything painful or terrifying - but nothing really deep or exciting, either.

[End Master]

Glad to see this thread getting used for what it was originally intended for. Only took 10 pages and a couple years after its creation to do it!

Haven't had any major weird dreams lately though, or rather none that I can remember very well.

I can remember a bit of one when I woke up this morning though. It was the end of the dream and it involved some sort of primitive tribal doll which was staring straight ahead (into the "dream camera"). The lighting was dim and flickering, possibly from a nearby fire. Background behind and around the doll looked like a cave of some sort.

Every once in awhile the entire image would scramble a bit and its face would change into various emotions, usually of the menacing looking or crazy kind. The scene would also start getting closer and closer towards the doll, until all you could see was its face. Kept hearing chanting in the background the whole time as well. Something like "Raze!" "Raze!" "Raze!"

Woke up after that, still thought I heard the chanting for a brief moment.

[Playa988]

I remember a dream I used to have pretty frequently a few years ago.

Basically, me and pretty much everyone I knew were at some hotel for one reason or another. All of the adults seemed to be nude for some peculiar reason...

Well, there was this stairway to your rooms in the hotel. Once you entered the room, the doors locked and all that was in the room was a bed and a ceiling fan.

For some reason, whoever was in the room would just start jumping on the bed until someone jumped too high and broke their neck on the spinning fan above them. Afterwards, the room would flash red and a chicken squawk would fill the entire hotel.

This dream went on for several nights until it got to the point where it was just me and my sister left and I grabbed her and threw her into the fan.

Six years later, I'm wondering why no one took the fucking elevator.