Tony writes:
this dream happens in different settings. someitmes i am alone, sometimes with others. most recently, alone, and in a city.
i’m driving a car. suddenly, without warning. i am on a steep incline, about 75 degrees or more. very near to vertical. i am panicked, but figure the only thing i can do is to floor it and ride it out. see what happens. Continue reading
Alberta writes:
Again, I am in front of the mirror, my teeth loose. I wiggle them with my fingers, mouth wide. One falls out and clinks into the sink, a front tooth. Then another. Again, I am upset. This is a reminder of my own mortality, and I am frightened. (But then…something breaks the cycle of re occurring toothloss dreams:)
Suddenly, I reach into my mouth and pull out all my teeth in my bottom jaw, all at once, like they are a set of dentures, but they’re not, they’re mine- and bebeath them, amazingly, there are fresh, white, beautiful new teeth, in rows of three like a shark. I am delighted. I am relieved. I am ecstatic. The nightmare has been broken.
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
Bob sends us:
Another recurring dream, where I visit my old house in Powderhorn Park. In this installment, I’m walking toward the back door, when I notice that right beside the door is another door that I have never seen before; in fact the house has grown, and now covers part of the sidewalk. I enter this door and go up a long flight of steps. At the top of the steps, is another door from which emerges a cacophony of screams, yells, and curses. I open the door and walk into the life of the Skrillitzes. Continue reading
Bob sends us a recurring journey:
I’m traveling in a car in south Minneapolis, near lake Nokomis. Gradually things start to shift, the buildings become older, more electric poles appear, the surroundings become denser and more urban, the street patterns become more twisty and turny, and the streets themselves become narrower with the building closer to the sidewalks.
Then I’m no longer in a car but in a trolley car, and the environment is a old American city, circa 1900. The streets are teaming with people, fruit stalls abound, horses pulling carts in the streets. I get off the trolley and wade through the mud to the sidewalk. This is not a perfect recreation of a 1910 city, there are many inconsistencies: for instance there is a white bank building from the ’60’s; occasionally a 1955 Pontiac, like my dad owned, drives through the muck; some buildings wiggle, like hand drawn film animations. Continue reading
Tera sends us the following two dreams:
about 6 months away from home in MPLS, and into art school in San Francisco i started having very vivid dreams. I dreamt I was on a very high bridge, (not unlike something halfway between the train bridge that crosses the river parkway, and the golden gate bridge). There were cars travelling on the bridge, and I was standing on it. It was an opaque night, and i felt I was almost standing in the sky. The moon was high and full. It was a long way down to water below. I remember having an sudden pang of sensation of both awe, excitement and fear as I suddenly realized ‘THE MOON IS GOING TO CRASH INTO THIS BRIDGE.’ Continue reading
Filed under: Dreams | Tags: animals, despair, nightmare, recurrent, terror
Max writes in:
This is an oldie, and more of the recurring nightmare type.
In this nightmare I’m going into someplace dark. Not so dark that I can’t see, but still pretty dark. It turns out to be an old basement with lots of dusty boxes stacked up with cobwebs everywhere. I’m feeling fine until I hear something coming towards me. I see that it is a bunch of rats and try to run away, but I find that it’s as if I’m running through water, and no matter how much I try to push myself I can’t go faster than a slow jog. As I’m running my eyes start to involuntarily close; I try to hold them open, and look back at the rats, but they just keep on closing, until I am fumbling about on hands and knees with my eyes only open as slits. I try to call for help, because I know that there are people in the lighted rooms above, but every time I try to yell it comes out as a hoarse whisper. I keep on scrambling towards the stairs, but know that the rats are going to catch me. The rats make non noise except for shrieks that sound like a fainter and more terrible version of my hoarse whisper. Eventually I wake up and paranoidly look about the room.
[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
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 