Last Night I Had a Dream...'s Journal|
[Most Recent Entries]
Below are the 14 most recent journal entries recorded in
Last Night I Had a Dream...'s LiveJournal:
|Thursday, September 23rd, 2010|
Finally a Vivid Dream with Emotion and Feeling
As I've grown old (I am 53) my dreams have become less and less fantastic.
But last night I dreamt of a Victorian house. I could only see the room I was in with impressive arched and paned windows and an odd glass partition that seemed to be added to allow light in. It somehow made sense in the dream after I considered it and figured it out.
I laid comfortably in a small sunny room, with a ceiling that was taller than the room was wide or long, on a soft puffy white antique bed. I somehow found myself outside and believe I was on a flat grass covered roof of the house and could see I was up very high.
It was a beautiful sight of a distant steep hillside with a small waterfall until I looked down at the water below. There I saw what felt like a malevolent swirling whirl pool taking water away to some deep and unknown place.
End of Dream
Anyone want to take a shot at interpreting this dream?
Or does anyone have any input on how to get my dream life more vivid again?
|Monday, September 29th, 2008|
Fine, I'll just take my camel and go home then.
I am in a place I'm not familiar with, it's someone else's house but a lot of my possessions are there, scattered around in the other people's stuff.
I decide to call work and tell them I'm not coming in, I've decided to take the day off and play video games all day, specifically Sonic the Hedgehog two on the 360. I am playing it, but there is something bothering me.
Nathan and I are staying in this house, trying not to be seen by its owners. They don't know we're there.
The daughter of the owner comes home--she's in her twenties, and looks exactly like the drawings of Dolores Umbridge from the Harry Potter books, but she's very nice and understanding of our situation, whatever it is.
I notice instant chemistry between she and Nathan. I try to do my own thing and ignore them cuddling and flirting on the black futon, but it's just too much.
I tell them that I will be leaving to go back to our old place, and I'll make several trips because I have a lot of things. I tell them I wish them happiness, and tell Nathan I'm glad he's found someone who can give him the things he wants and needs, that I can't. He wants the relationship to continue, but he also wants to visit her. She tells me I'm welcome to come back anytime, and I realize this is the best I can hope for.
So I pack my things into a sort of backpack, and then go outside for my camel. Nathan's camel is also there, but I want to be carrying less things when I take him back, so I ride my camel home first. It's amazing, I know the words to make her bend down, and climb onto the back edge of her hump. She stands off and I can feel her wooly fur and weird, swaying motion that almost dumps me off, but I can reach the tiny knob of her skull and little ears and I reassure her that I'm okay.
With each swaying step I lead her home with an improvised rope harness, and my mood improves because at least I have my pet camel and she's obeying me. I lead her with tugs on the rope harness and we make our way across a sandy parking lot to a path through what looks like a little toy village, with mushroom houses and tiny windmills.
I put her away at the old house and am getting up on Nathan's camel. I'm in a bad mood because I could hear him and the girl having loud sex in the house. His camel his less attuned to the rider, and I slide down the front of her hump and am sitting almost on his neck. I get back to where I need to be and we set off, but he walks much more slowly and wants to lie down. A few people are following me, interested in what I'm doing. I don't mind them following, and have a little portable television I let them watch with me. Soon my father is up ahead, and we all sit down in the dirt road to watch the television. There's a show about the game I was playing earlier, and I think ruefully how the day began with me calling in sick so I could play it, the only thing I really wanted to do at all. Current Mood: cheerful
|Thursday, September 18th, 2008|
The Bad Dream House
********This Morning's Bad Dream***********
I am at my cousin's house in South Georgia, an old Victorian of 4 thousand square feet. Except she and her family are just moving in. There are a lot of people around, it's like a family reunion as everyone helps her clean out the old owner's furniture and belongings. But I'm no use, I try to help someone do something and they tell me to move along, mostly because I can't concentrate on the task. There is something wrong with the house, that kind of visceral, instinctive sense of 'wrong' that tells you something is dangerous, that it has gone too far, like the irrevocable sense of death. The house is the color of driftwood, although the inside is clean and has white walls and hardwood floors, which are dirtied as everyone walks in and out.
Something happens in the front yard, something bad, and I am secretly relieved that something happened which validates my consternation about the house. An ambulance comes, and everyone stands around for a little while before going back inside the house. The yard is strangely small for such a big house, only sixty feet or so on each side of the low stone wall that surrounds the yard. The ground is covered with copper-colored dead leaves, and white swaths of dead grass. I watch my cousin dig his foot easily into the ground, and the soil comes up the silky gray of freshly-turned earth that has not had anything planted in it for years, like fine ash. There are no grass roots below the soil, there is nothing growing in the yard.
My Uncle Foye sits down at a small worktable against the stone wall, trying to coax some kind of small green plants to grow. They sit in broken coffee mugs and soda cans cut in half.
I go to talk to him, I haven't seen him in months. I want to ask him how he is, to reconnect to the people I miss in South Georgia, to tell him how well I am doing. To tell him, basically, that the strange, overly-sensitive and antisocial child he remembers is a functional adult, is doing well in the big world.
He seems weary as I approach him, and he will not look me in the eye. "Jennifer, Uncle Foye is boring," he says, with his habit of speaking in third person present even in the dream. "You go on and leave me alone now, I don't want to talk."
I turn to walk away, but going back into that awful house is the only option, and I know that if I go in something will happen to me. I walk back to it because that is what I was told to do, and start crying because I am afraid going back into the house means I will die.
And as I look at the house I realize why I don't like it, why I don't want to return to it and why I feel that sense of being trapped against my will: it's because I am the bad thing, I am the ghost that everyone tries to ignore and will not interact with.
At this point, Nathan woke me up, as he does every morning before heading out to work. He said I looked really upset. I remember seeing his face and my first thought, in that addled space in between waking and sleep, was 'Oh no, you came into the house with me, and now you're dead, too. I am so sorry I did this to you.'
Bizarrely,I had a lovely day today, and got quite a lot of work done, in direct contrast with the series of crummy, distracted, and bad-tempered days I've had recently. Nothing to make you appreciate life like a really goddamn horrifying dream! Current Mood: cheerful
|Tuesday, August 26th, 2008|
I dream with Radio 4's Today
A common, but not very clever, trick of mine is not crashing until it's far too late at night/in the morning - less a case of insomnia, more circadian rhythms prompting me towards staying up into the wee hours. This also means that I'm not waking up easily in the mornings, and I have situations like today.
Very hard to easily describe this dream, but it was strongly influenced by the radio - there was some bits about the US Democratic Party's convention which slipped into my dream, but was taking place in some dreamlike supermarket (which I've been to before, whilst asleep). But then the main 8 o'clock interview took place - something to do with NICE guidelines on healthcare - and it blended with last night's New Tricks.
I was in an entrance foyer somewhere - a corridor going into this supermarket with stairs going down. I was initially an onlooker and then participant to a very odd chap (yoinked from New Tricks) being asked questions about medicare and flagrantly not answering them. I started off just watching, but got involved in trying to get him to answer the damn questions, and he'd ignore me (probably me vs the radio), but as he was doing this, he pulled out a pair of EMT scissors and was cutting away at me. All of us were trying to talk to him and deal with this potentially maniacal character.
That interview ended, and then the corridor was full of all of the winning teams from the Olympics, with an Arabic chap in the middle talking into a microphone (he was the Beeb's Sports person). I think my brain twigged that this was real life and that I was running late, because this was where I surfaced into consciousness. Current Mood: confused
|Wednesday, July 23rd, 2008|
I have these terrible dreams
Recently there was a kick-start to this group, I'd like to reply and post my recent dreams, I really would; This explains why I can't Current Mood: awake
|Wednesday, July 9th, 2008|
(This isn't last night's dream, details of which still elude me, though apparently the longer you can stave off giving into the cravings for eating human flesh, the longer you remain not-a-full-zombie... Anyway, this is an oldie from 2006, fleshed-out (heh) into more detail.)
This is a choice moment from the film/ dream - the part that remains the clearest:
We've been preparing for the eventuality that zombies will almost certainly turn up. I'm a scientist who's been studying them and letting people know how zombies work, what to expect, etc. I've also, for some reason, got a dodgy leg. I mean like: serious Dr. House-Season-One-like dodgy.
I've been outside the compound (it is becoming increasingly revealed that we're the aliens - having settled another planet - and the zombies are less the things to fear than the creatures who make
zombies - out of humans, out of all sorts of species) The "aliens" are huge, sky-flying-in-grey-metal-ships beings - vastly intelligent and vastly bored. They make zombies for as-yet-not-totally-ascertained reasons, but it has something to do with hunting - from the skies, in their big ships and subjugation - i.e. having a set of beings you can bind to you that aren't very bright that you don't feel bad about hunting, and which keep the rest of the population under control. Either that or it's all some big massive side-effect of stuff to do with their culture and hunting and that - the scary thing is that we really don't know enough yet.
I am on the way back inside and realise that zombies are definitely on the way, earlier than expected - and are already inside the compound. I mean, you should see what they've done to the Receptionist. The poor Receptionist has had that classic thing done to him that shows us that the aliens (and therefore zombies) are on their way - he has been instantly... crystallised?!
- a horrible yellow-green colour, rictus-grinning and still with the phone to his ear.
I hurple on as quickly as possible to try to raise the alarm; still reasonably calm but somewhat concerned, not to say at some level scared beyond reason (the reason for my leg?). My heart is pumping hard, I feel cold, and my body seems to be gearing up towards a controlled state of panic. I know, you see, exactly what comes next if we can't fight it off. And we may well just not be able to fight it off...
Ahead of me, through double doors, two (American) soldiers stand, sweeping hand-guns around in a jittery manner. They clearly know already about the incursion. They see/ hear me, and swing to bear on my approaching form.
"Stand down," I call out reassuringly.
They fail to move.
"Stand down, soldiers, I have more than adequate clearance!"
I think: Christ, son, have you ever known a zombie that could speak?!
"Sorry, ma'am, but zombies..."
"I know - I saw the Receptionist. But I'm not..."
"You were lurching, ma'am."
"Limping." I'm really annoyed now. "The word is limping
." Cretins. Current Mood: cranky
Dream a Little Dream...
's dream she posted the other day had me all fired-up and reminiscing: Remember
, I said to myself, how you started up a journal community for people who had kick-ass vivid dreams of an almost cinematic quality? The notion was that here people could post their involved and/ or detailed dreams without feeling like someone was going to say "Oh, a dream post... how dull!" Quite the reverse, in fact.
And I replied: that's a really good point. You should probably post up in the journal, asking people to get stuck in again.
And when this horrific zombie dream I had last night leaves my system, I'll probably post that
Hope to hear from y'all real soon... Current Mood: curious
|Monday, January 15th, 2007|
Our hero is played by a bespectacled Matthew Modine, and as the action begins he's at the theatre, watching the closing moments to an opera. He's filled with a sense of sadness. As the applause dies away and the house lights come up, he shares a few words with his close friend played by Emma Thompson. There's clearly a chemistry between them, but her husband (played by some actor who looks fatuous) is impatient to leave. Such a shame, his wife dying so young like that, Emma declares wistfully as they take their leave of him. Our hero is left alone.
As he trudges up the steps to leave the auditorium, he sees some distance away the hurrying figure of his friend the Professor (possibly played by Simon Callow, or if not him then somebody else with a grey beard). Our hero tries to call out to the Professor, but the throng of people leaving the theatre is too thick.
As he exits into the foyer, we see him discover what appears to be a standard issue TV remote control in the pocket of his suit jacket. He looks at it with some confusion, but the seeds are there for us already - a Professor, a mysterious electronic device? Some sort of time travel is going to occur, and soon by the sounds of the rumbling and shaking which are starting to rock the theatre foyer.
People dash in every direction as the ground begins to tremor. Through the window to the street outside, we can see that the colour of the sky has begun to darken and sink into a queasy mustardy dusk. Suddenly a giant bell, as if ripped from a tower somewhere nearby, crashes through a huge plate glass window above our hero and to his left. The shards shower down into the foyer, now almost deserted. The rumbling has grown to a thunder, and from behind him we hear a distorted scream, a shriek of terror... "Somebody's Coming..."
At this point I woke up with a jolt, although not in a bolt upright kind of way. I was lying on my side facing the wall, but so full was my brain with the horrible idea that Somebody was Coming that I didn't move for at least a minute while the goose-bumps died down. Brilliant! Current Mood: excited
|Saturday, January 13th, 2007|
And he was beautiful
The main dream early this morning was this:
I walked into a large building and saw this young man sitting on top of an Anvil case. It was Stephen of The Siege Perilous; I was shocked how incredibly beautiful he was 'in real life'. Moving and breathing right in front of me rather than tooling around as an idea in my head based loosely on an old photograph from the Eighties, he was everything he ought to have been. Young, rather too pretty, big brown eyes, perfect nose that could wrinkle into a snarl when he sang, lots of thick hair falling into natural layered curls around his shoulders. I was almost afraid to speak to him; I think I knew it was a dream. But it was SO REAL and he was beautiful.
He sat, presenting his profile, speaking to the roadies who were moving around the band's equipment. Dressed in his usual black boots, black jeans, a black t-shirt, and his black leather jacket, ears dripping with earrings, he was an exquisite goth princeling. He rose and walked into another room, where his new wife Nesta was, and she was his size, ethereally beautiful, and smiling. They were perfect together and I remember being happily surprised at that. What had begun as a story challenge from Rhyo was now culminating into a relationship that was loving and well-met. They both turned to me and smiled.
As I walked up to them, he blurred and then I became him. I forgot I was 'me'; I was entirely HIM. We walked out hand-in-hand and went down a corridor. We were now in an old university such as Butler University's music and arts pavillion and we were attending a recital. A couple of musicians from a local band recognised me, but my wife and I sat down and watched the recital. Afterward, as we were leaving, the people who had recognised me began to applaud and the other musicians were trying to get my attention to talk to me, but I had to report to the theatre.
A movie director walked up to me and said that he had wonderful plans for this movie we were making. I laughed and said that I was hardly an actor; my only experience in 'acting' was emoting through music videos for Siege. But he told me I would be playing a Medieval magician who hid his identity through playing as if a Roman Catholic priest, and I was sent into a very expensively-appointed room to learn how to do a Catholic Mass. The room had leather wall coverings and deeply polished wood panels up to the chair-rail; everything in the room was of top quality and seemed like the private den of a very rich man. Over on a tall table (because I was shortish: Stephen is never taller than 5'6" and in the original series he was 5'4" tall) was a 4" diametre round piece of flattened bread and a goblet suitable for a High Altar in some massive edifice such as Notre Dame. I was taught to do Mass.
Then I got into costume and walked on set, where the rest of 'my cast' were. The rest of the band were nowhere to be seen, likely because they were filming other scenes and we were starting with my character's backstory. We were in a ruined tower or castle, with rubble on the floor, and I hopped up on a large block similar in dimension to that Anvil case earlier as the director instructed the magician's cronies...that is, my cronies. The Best Man was being played by Stanley Tucci, who looked as he did when he played Puck in "A Midsummer Night's Dream" about ten years ago. [Stanley Tucci???] We were under attack and what our enemies had not quite sussed was that we were not a priest's household with a few guardian warrior knights--all of my men were knights, as was I, and as another projectile struck the outside wall and stone and dust rained down upon us, I ducked down behind the large dressed stone, saw this bizarre Sci-Fi sword more suitable for a Klingon than a Medieval knight, and I did the SCA thing: "Hey! This sword isn't Period...!!" I yelled through the din as I grabbed the sword's grip.
The set crew and director disappeared; we were now IN that tower in some Dark Age, and the danger was real. I had only a moment to register this when the sword released some sort of wave of power and the Warband and I were transported into the future. It was now 2050 or so and looked a bit like "The Fifth Element" without the flying cars. The group of us WERE Medieval warriors and we reacted with the sort of shock and surprise one might expect after being transported 1,050 years into the future.
The Enemy was still out there and I realised that I was still an Elven Timelord; I had brought us forward to fight what we had not realised back in the 11th Century: The Enemy was not human and it was capable of outliving humanity. Forgotten was the masquerade of being a Catholic priest, or being in a band, or even making a movie. This was real and we had to fight It.
The rest is blurry; I was waking and I lost the thread. But it was so powerfully REAL. One of those dreams that engages all one's senses.
[Stephen, Nesta, and The Siege Perilous are characters in my fiction.]
|Tuesday, January 9th, 2007|
Collection of dreams
I’m with a friend, at some intersection of the DLR and tube (but oddly, neither Bank nor Stratford). There’s a lass there, she’s Chinese (I seem to know this instinctively) and is wearing a short grey dress. She needs help, she is lost, trying to find her way somewhere; I give her directions but then offer to lend her a hand with her luggage. From the outset I’m absolutely smitten, not least because she is stunning. I escort her to where she needs to go and drop her off. I think we arrange to meet again, but it transpires that her father forbids me from seeing her again.-***-
I’m at Showcase, but it’s not actually the shop – instead it’s more labyrinthine, and the backroom is bigger. Showcase has just closed, or is about to do so
, Cliff (the manager/2IC) meets with a customer who wants to sell us (or us to sell on his behalf) a collection of toy soldiers & lead miniatures. Amongst this collection are various figures that I am either looking for, or ones that would be useful to me. The last thing I remember is that I am examining a few of them.-***-
I’m back in my hometown with my bother, his wife, and her kids. There’s something else that happens, but I can’t remember it. However, we are in two cars taking the kids to school (my own old school as it happens). The two cars somehow get split up, and despite the fact that the route is easy, and we all know the way, there is a worry that the other car is lost. We are first to arrive at the school, and curiously the second driver is with us. We await the second car, and when it does turn up, the structure is different – there is a sense of crispy beef strips – not specifically being made from it, but it is an impression made in my mind’s eye. -***-
Just a short dream:
We are at Sainsbury’s (both my parents and I), we’re shopping for food for Christmas. Dad is getting fed up (quite strange, as he always did the shopping). The store is bigger than the one back home, we get our provisions. I head out and grab some nibbles.
Not a terribly deep or strange dream (bar the presence of my father), but it was quite vivid – not least for being over two weeks late. -***-
[Last night]( A long strange description of last night's dream:Collapse ) Current Mood: thoughtful
|Monday, December 11th, 2006|
Intro and my dream last night
I'm in Central Florida, and [Bad username: failing angel]
recommended this community to me after I posted in my own LJ about my dream last night.
Here's a bit of context: I'm shopping for a car right now, I have a good idea about what I want and a positive revulsion for manipulative salespeople. Also, I watched the 1995 Rob Roy film last week. The Dream
I'm test-driving a strange vehicle. I'm trying to figure out what it is while 6 people in the car including my boyfriend are trying to convince me it's great. I can't see out the windshield and the car smells putrid. As I'm looking around I see graying ribs where the side windows should be, and the instruments and seats are all comprised of organs. Suddenly it occurs to me I am driving the rotting carcass of a Scottish highland cow, the kind with long hair and horns. I am disgusted that the salesmen talked me into this.
At that point the dream changed to something else and I forgot what happened next. I just remember waking up in the night thinking 'damn, that was odd.' Current Mood: cheerful
|Friday, December 8th, 2006|
We were waiting outside my Mum & Dad's house (albeit a version of their house I have never seen before or ever been too - but funny how you still know
in dreams, innit) for my Grandma and Granddad to arrive. They pulled up in their old Ford Escort that they don't have any more. As they got out of the car, it looked as though they were both in some discomfort. It's a long way from Redcar, so we expected them to be tired, especially at their age. But Grandma was walking almost bent double, so desperate to get to the toilet that she could only whisper a greeting to us as she dashed past and into the house. Granddad looked exhausted, but it was only on a second glance that I noticed his nose had swollen and drooped so that it now resembled a flesh-coloured banana full of water. He noticed me looking, and nodded in recognition at my concern. "Slowly we're rotting"
, he muttered. Current Mood: calm
|Thursday, December 7th, 2006|
This is Cinematic Dreams - a whimsically-engendered community dedicated to the posting of people's bizarre, unusual, vivid, horrible, horrifying and/ or beautiful dreams.
Happy, sad, crazy, sexy, whatever - the only stipulation is that it is vivid, detailed and something you'd want to share with other people.
This is no dream interpretation site, no professional psychologists here - but if you request it, we'll take a shot.
On the other hand, if you just want to say "Wow, this was weird," that's perfectly fine and grand. Likewise: "Would this make a good film?" is acceptable, but we want you to post your own dreams, not film suggestions - there are plenty other sites, forums and communities set up for that kind of thing.
And yes, I had the idea for this while I was waking up from a particularly weird dream during which I was wandering around work trying to write a poem.
I'll start the ball rolling soon with some of my own odd dreams, but in the meantime if anyone else wants to post - go for it!