Michael writes:
I entered the cellar of an old mansion with a team of cat-burglar/specialists. We were there to find something out rather than to steal. I found a stack of old black and white crime scene photos on a work bench. Something horrible had happened here, and the photos that depicted the nightmare were left out in the open as if the events were just a natural part of this family’s story.
Six children had been savagely murdered by a teenage girl. She had killed them and then perched each of them atop a rocking horse. Continue reading
Chris writes:
So I had died, don’t know how, but I was sitting in the lobby of an office tower which unbeknownst to me was purgatory. I hadn’t really realized I had died until the receptionist and some others came up and told me I had died and they were going to take me to heaven. “Ah” I thought, “so thats why I’m here.” As they were leading me to an elevator an evil me appeared dressed all in red with little horns and a tail trying to beckon me to another elevator, saying how much fun it would be etc. Well, I saw right through it of course, the red with the horns and tail, that was so predictable did anybody actually fall for that anymore? So I went with the angels and we took the elevator up to the third floor, a floor just like any office floor where I would spend the rest of eternity in front of a computer doing heaven’s work, which I assumed meant I was doing good in the world, I didn’t really know. Continue reading
Katherine writes:
I dreamt last night that I was dreaming (yes, a dream within a dream) that I was in the house that I grew up in, and I walked into my father’s study. he was sitting there at his desk, and I came up to him and gave him a hug and told him I loved him so much. And he told me he loved me a lot. And then we just kept hugging, and I felt time speed up or at least it felt like days went by. Continue reading
Ben writes:
1. I’m producing the next BERZERK!!! show, but instead of going to the theatre for the ONE DAY of rehearsals, i decide to go to a hotel with my girlfriend, watch a Jim Henson film marathon, eat dry cereal out of the box. I finally get to the theatre 5 minutes before the show is supposed to start. I then have to run a long list of unknown light and sound cues on incomprehensibly newfangled equipement (a sound system merged with credit card machine). I fuck it all up and everyone, cast, crew, audience, walks out on the show hating me. The newpapers are uncharacteristically thorough in their reviews (as in they acknowledge our existence at all) i am miserable. Continue reading
Valerie sends us two dreams:
#1
I’ve been invited to a big, semi-prestigous event and I’m excited. It’s held at a fancy hotel and seems to be something like a conference, run by a small group of people. Two of my brothers, I discover, are also at this conference.
Once the event begins and people are enjoying cocktails in the lobby area, the organizers announce that they have locked the doors and are planning to kill the participants, one by one. They will find us and let us know when our time slots are coming up. Continue reading
Gina dreamt this while sleeping in a hospital waiting room:
Seated in a room of hard high-back wooden chairs placed against three walls – one next to the other – with one chair front and center. Hanging above each chair is its own private noose which can be lowered or raised and which can move forward or backward by a mechanism on the wall in the front of the room.
Light bulbs, and not fluorescent lights, make the room seem smaller – but it could also be that my vision is limited, for I am seated in the chair that is front and center.
I don’t know why I am there, just that I seem to understand something quite deeply. (Perhaps I am relying on fate, believing in fate, accepting whatever fate offers me, I am not sure which, perhaps all three). Continue reading
Jason sends us the following:
I am in the Vietnamese jungle, being chased by Vietcong. I am out of ammo and scared, so I hide in a bush. I see many Vietcong pass me by, but my tension builds. Then, one soldier parts the bushes away and sees me. he thrusts a bayonet into my chest. ( I do not wake-up ) . I gasp and watch as pushes the blade further in. He looks at me with cool, uncaring eyes. I barely make a sound. then i woke up.
[So, a few days ago, we posted a dream by Valerie in which she told us about a Vietnamese woman who is a recurrent character in her dreams. I asked Valerie if she could send along any other dreams she could recall with this woman in them. She was gracious enough to send one back]
I’ve killed someone by accident. I don’t know who it is or how exactly I did it, but the deed is done. The police have come and collected my statement, examined the body, and informed the woman’s relatives. But they have left the body and it’s now been lying outside for several days, undisturbed, as a reminder of the horrible horrible thing I’ve done.
I go outside my house, which is not really my house. It’s more of a movie set, actually, where we are indoors but also outdoors. My house in this dream looks like where The Cosby show was set. So, I go outside and down the steps to where the body is tossed face-down on a long wooden black box. My boyfriend is sitting on the stairs, hanging out and watching. Continue reading
Honorary Dreamblog Rockstar Gina writes:
“I can’t remember the reason, but I am “sentenced” to die, to be shot – in a room, like a classroom. My mother has the same “sentence.” I believe my friend, J’s mother is also sentenced to die, but in the infirmary. I am “free” to make arrangements prior to being shot, and, as if this were a lesson, I know to show up. I am surprised, amazed and scared, yet something greater removes my impulse to run away.
In my dream, I walk along lines on the floor in a square, repeating the walk with my mother and 2 or 3 others. The executioner is Clarence the angel! from “It’s A Wonderful Life.” He is kind and very respectful of our anxieties. He tells me that I am to be first. The others sit down. A faint memory requesting that my mother not be present. I don’t remember what happened, just that his response was loving and respectful. Continue reading
I suddenly find myself in a Home Alone situation – I know this from the very beginning, before I see the two bandits whose faces I’ve memorized from scores of hours watching the Home Alone movies. I am in Kevin MacAlester’s shoes. This time, though, there will be no cute-yet-safe traps for these guys. No paint cans swung from banisters, no axle grease on the stairs. If I have it my way, neither of these men will leave this house alive.
It’s daytime. Marv and Harry have come in through the front door. I think they might be sneaking upstairs? I wait around the corner in a room off the front hall, terror in every sinew. (for some reason, I never leave this room during the entire dream) I’m not breathing. I catch myself fantasizing about sneaking up behind one when he’s in a room alone. How will I kill him? Maybe I’ll shoot him? Maybe I’ll jab my chef’s knife into his kidneys? I think I’d like to slit his throat – slip behind him like James Bond, all sex and tenderness and aggression. I imagine grabbing his mouth with my left hand, and pressing my body against his warm back while I slide my chef’s knife across his artery with my right. I imagine my hot breath on the back of his neck, his hair brushing my ear, my beard pricking his cheek. He writhes in my arms, arching his back as his hot, sticky blood sprays all over the curtains like spray paint. Continue reading
Valerie writes:
I dreamt about my grandmother again. I woke up with an awful aching feeling, like someone had taken a grapefruit spoon and carved out my entire chest cavity. Gaunt and frail and brown, but distanced. Her presence felt there, only across the room, as if some invisible wall of time and space were between us.
This time, she was dead 10 years, or so I thought. By accident I opened up my mother’s mail and found a bill from some hotel in Vietnam, claiming that she owed them several years back-rent. My mother confesses that she and my grandmother faked her death in the hospital, to avoid creditors. My grandmother has been living in a small town some place in Vietnam for the past ten years. Continue reading
I dream of dada 