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Thread: Dream On

  1. #181
    Super Moderator Wind's Avatar
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    I can give one example about one dream being involved with reality this week.

    I don't usually take naps anymore, but once in a blue moon I have to for various reasons. I did that and then during the dreaming phase I saw my online friend, who I consider to be a dear friend or like a sister writing to me. I can't tell how many minutes after that was, but it felt like a few minutes when I woke up to her writing to me. Not exactly like in the dream, but we communicate through a chat app so I get notifications when ever she does that and it's not always every day, sometimes it can be even a week that I don't hear from her. Also there are many times before that I have not only connected with her on a strange way through dream realms and other ways too, but not only with her though. Her father is a demon wearing a human skinsuit, a psychopathic narc that is so we kinda have connected that way too, but I have "known" her for half a decade now. I must suppose that with some people we just tend to have a certain kind of energetic connection though and that connection remains in different realms too. All is connected.

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  3. #182
    Senior Member BeastOfBologna's Avatar
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    The little guy I posted about the other day is back in North Carolina since Wednesday evening. My sister-in-law got a call from her sister a few minutes ago saying that 'Dax' was taken to the emergency room by his mother. They won't let my sister-in-law's sister in to see him because of apparent covid restrictions. I'm sure he will be alright. A seizure due to fever might be the emergency. He was a little congested when he was here in Kansas.
    “To seek self-knowledge is to embark on a journey which ... will always be incomplete" - courtesy of Godel's Incompleteness Theorem

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  5. #183
    Senior Member BeastOfBologna's Avatar
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    Turns out, "Dax" was ok.

    Last night I had a really interesting dream. It was about a really hot mama but what was different was there were 'personalities' to all the characters. The lady had family visit and while she was 'ethnically' hard to pinpoint her 'brother' seemed to be Hispanic. She had an uncaring Anglo boyfriend who was also there but seemed preoccupied by other things going on, like drug dealing or something. We were all sitting on a couch, boyfriend, her, and I. As the boyfriend became more distracted, she and I became more 'interested in each other' to the point where we were becoming quite familiar. She was a major turn-on for me and to her bodyfriend it was like oh well, I got better things to do. Anyway, I woke up and thought about the dream all morning.

    This afternoon I went to Home Depot to get some yard stuff and as I was walking out, in a usual hurry, I just glanced at the checkout line next to mine ... and there she was! I was a bit taken aback thinking to myself, migod, that's her. We did make eye contact and as I walked further I had to actually hesitate, turn halfway around to look her over ... She was looking at me when I did it, so I'm sure she had noticed something. It was weird. I'm sure there was no possibility of anything happening more than what occurred.
    “To seek self-knowledge is to embark on a journey which ... will always be incomplete" - courtesy of Godel's Incompleteness Theorem

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  7. #184
    Super Moderator United States Dreamtimer's Avatar
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    Très intéressant...

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  9. #185
    Senior Member BeastOfBologna's Avatar
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    Funny dream last night... Oprah and her twin were there. My next door neighbor walked into my childhood house uninvited because he wanted to use the phone but I scared him with my really big .45 that I didn't know to disengage the safety on. I was home because I had skipped school but to make up for it, I was cramming for the entire semester by trying to read all my textbooks for the year. I had started with a geographical history text. Ended up going to a cake party at Oprah's twin sister's house.


    The point: The talking heads on the news mentioned Oprah in a joke about generosity and the book on the afterlife that I'm reading had a 'sitter' that had a departed family member that was a Gemini that had twin children. Oh, and Rittenhouse walked free. He has a face made in heaven for a criminal. You just want to give him a hug and reassure him that everything will be ok.

    Here's the perhaps not apparent reality: The biggest difference between a white defendant and a black defendant is not of necessity a perceptual difference. A white defendant has a justice system that was designed for them within a familiar culture, It is natural for even a bad intentioned individual to cross the legal t's and i's that will render them innocent when push comes to shove. It is a meta-principle that is inbred from birth. Black defendants have been conditioned from birth to realize that the system is not there for them, no, rather it is there to do them in ultimately. That makes for a stupid criminal, having all social contracts smushed in their face, there is no psychological motivation to work within the system. E.G. : A black defendant would have hauled the AR-15 across state lines thereby rendering him dead meat from the get go.

    I swear as they were waiting for the reading of the decision both Rittenhouse and the Judge, had the edges of a smile on their countenance. I refuse to believe that despite all the drama they both weren't aware of the ultimate acquittal.
    “To seek self-knowledge is to embark on a journey which ... will always be incomplete" - courtesy of Godel's Incompleteness Theorem

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  11. #186
    Super Moderator United States Dreamtimer's Avatar
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    I never cried to get out of a traffic ticket. I do know people who have.

    I dreamt years ago about people who wanted to exercise vigilante justice after having been riled up and riled up and riled up by their political leaders.

    And now we've reached the time of manifestation.

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  13. #187
    Administrator Aragorn's Avatar
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    Lightbulb

    I had four weird dreams last night, two of which were rather nightmarish ─ well, one of those certainly was a bona fide nightmare ─ but there was also one very intriguing dream among those four.

    I don't remember all of the details anymore, but I was in a different town ─ actually, a village right next to the one I grew up in, and I still regularly pass through there in my car. However, in the dream I was not in my car but on foot. The weather was grey and it was not very warm. I'd say that it was definitely around this time of the year. I was also wearing the same kind of clothes as I would be wearing if I were to go out the door today ─ warm enough to shield me against the elements.

    I was in the street that serves as the main traffic axis of the village; I have even worked there once, in an elementary school, and it was during my tenure there that my very first car got totaled ─ while legitimately parked ─ by a driver who had become unwell behind the wheel. But I digress.

    Going on with the dream, there was something very odd. In that particular street, at a place where there are only houses, there was an open entrance to yet another street, perpendicular to the one I was in. The entrance was part of a normal-sized building and adjoined with the houses on either side. The upper part of the entrance was fashioned as an arched vault, like the entrance to a medieval European rich farmer's estate ─ the concept has no English translation, although one could compare it somewhat to a borough. There was however no gate, so it didn't look like anybody's private property ─ it was also too wide for that. It was an open entrance, and it was certainly wide enough to allow two cars to pass through side by side and unhindered.

    I immediately experienced that entrance and that street as peculiar, because I know that area quite well, and so I knew for a fact that there wasn't supposed to be any street there, let alone one with a vaulted entrance. And it certainly didn't look like anything that had been created there overnight. But it was very, very strange, and what made it even stranger was that the street didn't have any asphalt, concrete or pavement covering its road surface. It looked like a dark, hardened dirt road with some pebbles here and there, similar to what most streets looked like in the smaller villages over here two- or even three-hundred years ago, where nothing would ever pass, other than people on foot and an occasional horse-drawn carriage or kart. But it was a wide enough dirt road to allow traffic in both directions ─ if there had been any traffic, because there were no cars to be seen anywhere, and there was nobody walking around outside in that street, contrary to in the actual real road that I myself was standing in.

    I also couldn't see the end of it, as if it just kept on going on and meandering in a rural landscape, all with small and old looking houses. The houses in this mysterious street ─ insofar as I could see without actually passing through the entrance, because I was still standing on the sidewalk of the (real) street, diagonally on the opposite side of the entrance ─ looked as if they were built and styled as was custom about two to three centuries ago. Here and there, there was a flickering amber light emanating from the white-curtain-covered windows of some of the houses, as if the light came from candles and/or petrol lamps. There was something eerie about it all ─ not threatening, but eerie nevertheless, in that if I were to walk through that vaulted entrance, I would surely be seen as an unwelcome intruder, even though it was definitely not private property.

    Then somehow I found myself talking to a young woman ─ early-to-mid twenties, with long, naturally red hair and a rather pale face. She was a little shorter than me. Her face looked familiar, but it did not feel as if she was someone I know in real life. Perhaps more like she reminded me of someone else, and in fact, come to think of it, she probably did. She was not unattractive, but she was not exactly my type either. She did however seem to know me, or at the very least, she recognized my state of bewilderment with the presence of a street that wasn't supposed to be there and yet appeared to have been there for hundreds of years already. She did not appear timid at all.

    It was a brief conversation, and it was in French, which I haven't actively spoken anymore in ages. The young woman did not appear to have herself come out of the mysterious street ─ she somehow seemed to belong "on this side" ─ but it was unusual that she spoke to me in French. I don't remember what exactly she said ─ as the matter of fact, I seem to remember that I didn't even properly understood her ─ but it sounded a bit like she was cautioning me about the mysterious street and its inhabitants. And another thing, which I am only remembering now as I'm writing this, is that she wasn't dressed for the type of weather we're having now. She wore a blue jeans and ─ I think ─ a light blue hoodie, but she did not appear to be suffering from the cold.

    I don't remember the young lady leaving my side or my crossing the (real) street and walking through the vaulted entrance to the mysterious street, but the next thing I remember, I was actually standing in that strange street and meeting some of the people who lived there. They all spoke French, and most of them appeared to be just going about their own business and not minding my presence there.

    Then I was invited for a cup of coffee into one of the houses by a well-dressed and respectable looking middle-aged lady who wore a black hat ─ all again very 18th or 19th century. It felt like she was older than me because in my dreams I am always a lot younger than I really am, but I would say that the lady was somewhere around the age of fifty. Yet, in spite of her classy appearance, the house didn't appear to be particularly luxurious or belonging to any rich person. On the other hand, it wasn't exactly a poor man's home either. It wasn't exactly big on the outside or roomy on the inside, but it was all very neat and cozy, lit by petrol lamps, flickering their amber hue all over the furniture and the walls. The walls were plastered and painted in a pale color, and there was a lot of exposed wood from support beams and other structural elements. The wood was either rosewood or dyed with a rosewood lacquer, which further darkened the already badly lit interior of the house ─ the outside of that particular house was painted in an off-white, by the way.

    I don't really remember much anymore of my conversation with the lady, but I believe we were talking about the community of people living in that street. All very cordial and polite, and all in French, which ─ again ─ I haven't spoken anymore in ages, and thus my French is very rusty. And then the dream ended.

    Now, there are many intriguing aspects about this dream, but what struck me the most when I woke up was how strongly it reminded me of the mysterious story of Brigadoon.

    I have no idea what it all means ─ if anything at all ─ but it was definitely one of my more memorable dreams, and certainly a lot nicer than the nightmare I had been having about an hour earlier.
    = DEATH BEFORE DISHONOR =

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  15. #188
    Senior Member BeastOfBologna's Avatar
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    Quote Originally posted by Aragorn View Post
    I had four weird dreams last night, two of which were rather nightmarish ─ well, one of those certainly was a bona fide nightmare ─ but there was also one very intriguing dream among those four.

    I don't remember all of the details anymore, but I was in a different town ─ actually, a village right next to the one I grew up in, and I still regularly pass through there in my car. However, in the dream I was not in my car but on foot. The weather was grey and it was not very warm. I'd say that it was definitely around this time of the year. I was also wearing the same kind of clothes as I would be wearing if I were to go out the door today ─ warm enough to shield me against the elements.

    I was in the street that serves as the main traffic axis of the village; I have even worked there once, in an elementary school, and it was during my tenure there that my very first car got totaled ─ while legitimately parked ─ by a driver who had become unwell behind the wheel. But I digress.

    Going on with the dream, there was something very odd. In that particular street, at a place where there are only houses, there was an open entrance to yet another street, perpendicular to the one I was in. The entrance was part of a normal-sized building and adjoined with the houses on either side. The upper part of the entrance was fashioned as an arched vault, like the entrance to a medieval European rich farmer's estate ─ the concept has no English translation, although one could compare it somewhat to a borough. There was however no gate, so it didn't look like anybody's private property ─ it was also too wide for that. It was an open entrance, and it was certainly wide enough to allow two cars to pass through side by side and unhindered.

    I immediately experienced that entrance and that street as peculiar, because I know that area quite well, and so I knew for a fact that there wasn't supposed to be any street there, let alone one with a vaulted entrance. And it certainly didn't look like anything that had been created there overnight. But it was very, very strange, and what made it even stranger was that the street didn't have any asphalt, concrete or pavement covering its road surface. It looked like a dark, hardened dirt road with some pebbles here and there, similar to what most streets looked like in the smaller villages over here two- or even three-hundred years ago, where nothing would ever pass, other than people on foot and an occasional horse-drawn carriage or kart. But it was a wide enough dirt road to allow traffic in both directions ─ if there had been any traffic, because there were no cars to be seen anywhere, and there was nobody walking around outside in that street, contrary to in the actual real road that I myself was standing in.

    I also couldn't see the end of it, as if it just kept on going on and meandering in a rural landscape, all with small and old looking houses. The houses in this mysterious street ─ insofar as I could see without actually passing through the entrance, because I was still standing on the sidewalk of the (real) street, diagonally on the opposite side of the entrance ─ looked as if they were built and styled as was custom about two to three centuries ago. Here and there, there was a flickering amber light emanating from the white-curtain-covered windows of some of the houses, as if the light came from candles and/or petrol lamps. There was something eerie about it all ─ not threatening, but eerie nevertheless, in that if I were to walk through that vaulted entrance, I would surely be seen as an unwelcome intruder, even though it was definitely not private property.

    Then somehow I found myself talking to a young woman ─ early-to-mid twenties, with long, naturally red hair and a rather pale face. She was a little shorter than me. Her face looked familiar, but it did not feel as if she was someone I know in real life. Perhaps more like she reminded me of someone else, and in fact, come to think of it, she probably did. She was not unattractive, but she was not exactly my type either. She did however seem to know me, or at the very least, she recognized my state of bewilderment with the presence of a street that wasn't supposed to be there and yet appeared to have been there for hundreds of years already. She did not appear timid at all.

    It was a brief conversation, and it was in French, which I haven't actively spoken anymore in ages. The young woman did not appear to have herself come out of the mysterious street ─ she somehow seemed to belong "on this side" ─ but it was unusual that she spoke to me in French. I don't remember what exactly she said ─ as the matter of fact, I seem to remember that I didn't even properly understood her ─ but it sounded a bit like she was cautioning me about the mysterious street and its inhabitants. And another thing, which I am only remembering now as I'm writing this, is that she wasn't dressed for the type of weather we're having now. She wore a blue jeans and ─ I think ─ a light blue hoodie, but she did not appear to be suffering from the cold.

    I don't remember the young lady leaving my side or my crossing the (real) street and walking through the vaulted entrance to the mysterious street, but the next thing I remember, I was actually standing in that strange street and meeting some of the people who lived there. They all spoke French, and most of them appeared to be just going about their own business and not minding my presence there.

    Then I was invited for a cup of coffee into one of the houses by a well-dressed and respectable looking middle-aged lady who wore a black hat ─ all again very 18th or 19th century. It felt like she was older than me because in my dreams I am always a lot younger than I really am, but I would say that the lady was somewhere around the age of fifty. Yet, in spite of her classy appearance, the house didn't appear to be particularly luxurious or belonging to any rich person. On the other hand, it wasn't exactly a poor man's home either. It wasn't exactly big on the outside or roomy on the inside, but it was all very neat and cozy, lit by petrol lamps, flickering their amber hue all over the furniture and the walls. The walls were plastered and painted in a pale color, and there was a lot of exposed wood from support beams and other structural elements. The wood was either rosewood or dyed with a rosewood lacquer, which further darkened the already badly lit interior of the house ─ the outside of that particular house was painted in an off-white, by the way.

    I don't really remember much anymore of my conversation with the lady, but I believe we were talking about the community of people living in that street. All very cordial and polite, and all in French, which ─ again ─ I haven't spoken anymore in ages, and thus my French is very rusty. And then the dream ended.

    Now, there are many intriguing aspects about this dream, but what struck me the most when I woke up was how strongly it reminded me of the mysterious story of Brigadoon.

    I have no idea what it all means ─ if anything at all ─ but it was definitely one of my more memorable dreams, and certainly a lot nicer than the nightmare I had been having about an hour earlier.
    It sounds like a cool experience ... very 'satisfying' in a strange way. At least, that is the way I would describe it.
    “To seek self-knowledge is to embark on a journey which ... will always be incomplete" - courtesy of Godel's Incompleteness Theorem

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  17. #189
    Super Moderator Wind's Avatar
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    Very interesting. I wanted to ask if any of you folks have been seeing weird dreams lately because I have for at least the past week.

    However, most of them I can't remember so well anymore once I wake up.

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  19. #190
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    It reminded me of Brigadoon as well. Arches are indicative of transitions into different states/planes. So this one seems to be about peering into the past. Very cool indeed.

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