What did you dream (last night)?

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this morning i woke up at 5 or so, because kim jong-un had rescued me from a bunch of killers. they were about to grab me by the sleeve, when suddenly kim came flying by in a ferris wheel cabin. i had two seconds to jump into the cabin, he didnt help me, but smiled welcomingly, and this was it.
i was hunted down because i wouldnt believe a vet who told me that my cat had died. i looked for it on a garbage dump and found it in a plastic bag, still alive. subsequently i was declared a high traitor
 
okay so I rarely ever dream, or rarely ever remember my dreams. but I had a dream last night featuring none other than our very own 12" on the slack. in it, to prove some kind of a point to me about animal cruelty or whatnot, he sent me a bunch of whole cooking chickens (not, you would probably say, that chickens are for cooking, but I say cooking chickens to mean the kind you buy at the grocery store--if you were to buy chickens at the grocery store--as opposed to live or feathered chickens). there were about six of them that he put in a large plastic bag, and I can see them clear as day sitting on my counter and remember thinking "what am I supposed to do with these". my apologies to 12" for not having been able to put him in a more exciting dream.
I think I mustve had chicken on my mind because I remember another little snippet of dream wherein I was meeting a friend on a day that happened to be my birthday but which, as it turns out, was also "national chicken day", and as I got into her car she gave me a present which I assumed to be a birthday present and after some exaggerated expressions of gratitude on my part I unwrapped it only to discover it was a bucket of fried chicken in observance of national chicken day, and not a birthday present at all. boy, was I miffed.
 
Because of the daylight saving time change, the alarm rang at 06.30 (05.30) bang in the middle of a dream. I was preoccupied because the circus was in town. The week before I had seen posters advertising it, and someone was against it, as they had sprayed initials on them, didn't have time to read them as I was on a bus (slow morning reader), but presumably the equivalent of ALF or something like that.
So I was in a caravan with some guy and we were trying to have a discussion, well I was but he wasn't interested. He acted reasonable and distant, and when I awoke I felt he had evaded the question again.
There was a wheel at one point, with what may have been a grey monkey attached to it, like that Da Vinci drawing.
At no point was there any questions of rescuing the animals from the circus. Which is a shame, but maybe that was because we were circus animals ourselves?

I read somewhere that all the characters in dreams are versions of yourself. Which might mean that I feel useless when it comes to protecting species and their habitats, as although in reality I do think about it a lot, I always feel depressed and powerless. Maybe the other person represented power. In reality I do wish rich men did something intelligent with their money.

The next day, I saw from the bus that the posters had been replaced.

Monday was a long, tired and all round shitty day and sucked even more than normal Mondays do.
 
Waiting tables in slow motion where everything that could go wrong, was going wrong.
Just your typical walking through molasses service industry hell kind of dream.
 
I dream or remember my dreams every night. Last night I dreamt I was driving somewhere on the north east coast through some very hilly areas. So I’m diving down a very steep highway road with a car full of generic dream people and I loose control of the car which just keeps accelerating while I’m barely able to avoid on coming traffic and manage the turns. I eventually don’t and go off the road and wake up
 
Last night was a night of insomnia so no REM sleep for me. But a couple weeks ago, I had a really vivid dream where I was at work in a large doctor’s office (which is true in real life but this is were reality veers off now) I was sent to retrieve something a patient’s mother requested. I was told to head to the Breast Milk Bank that apparently we had, to locate a particular bottle for the baby. I entered this climate controlled room where row after row of tall shelves were stacked with hundreds of baby bottles full of donated breast milk. Each spot was labeled based on the characteristics of the donor. For example: nurse/runner. Or college educated/Buddhist, etc. it was like a giant weed dispensary but for breast milk, all the strains clearly labeled and all were presumably desirable to give a baby in some way. There were no bottles labeled: crack head/schizophrenic or the like. I remember being overwhelmed by the thousands of choices and I grabbed a bottle that I thought was closest to what I had been sent for and a tech who worked there jumped in and stopped me. She said I had the wrong bottle and that the baby really needed this one that she then gave me. But by now I had no idea where I had just grabbed the wrong bottle from and I became really anxious about finding the spot and not wanting to put it away in the wrong slot and potentially fate another baby to the wrong bottle. Eventually the tech told me to just throw it on this other shelf where everything went that needed to be restocked. After I woke up it struck simultaneously as both really odd and perhaps a million dollar idea!
 
Because of the daylight saving time change, the alarm rang at 06.30 (05.30) bang in the middle of a dream. I was preoccupied because the circus was in town. The week before I had seen posters advertising it, and someone was against it, as they had sprayed initials on them, didn't have time to read them as I was on a bus (slow morning reader), but presumably the equivalent of ALF or something like that.
So I was in a caravan with some guy and we were trying to have a discussion, well I was but he wasn't interested. He acted reasonable and distant, and when I awoke I felt he had evaded the question again.
There was a wheel at one point, with what may have been a grey monkey attached to it, like that Da Vinci drawing.
At no point was there any questions of rescuing the animals from the circus. Which is a shame, but maybe that was because we were circus animals ourselves?

I read somewhere that all the characters in dreams are versions of yourself. Which might mean that I feel useless when it comes to protecting species and their habitats, as although in reality I do think about it a lot, I always feel depressed and powerless. Maybe the other person represented power. In reality I do wish rich men did something intelligent with their money.

The next day, I saw from the bus that the posters had been replaced.

Monday was a long, tired and all round shitty day and sucked even more than normal Mondays do.

https://edition.cnn.com/2016/03/11/health/daylight-saving-time-health-effects/index.html
 
I dreamt I was hanging out with Julian Casablancas, but the weirdest part is that we were going to see The Strokes. :squiffy:

He was on James Corden last night with his band, The Voids, so that might have something to do with why I was dreaming about him. Julian was running all over the place, and kept saying, "we need to get closer to the stage!" He was also helping others move closer.

I like this thread! I have very vivid dreams!
 
Not last night, but very recently I had a Morrissey dream:
Morrissey was singing at a small charity-for-kids concert and was interacting and making eye contact with everyone in the audience since the room was small and we were all up close. But every time I caught his eye he looked quickly away with a sneer, so I knew he thought I was repulsive which made me feel really sad. After the main show was over, he decided to do a little impromptu play. During this intermission he was talking to some theater people about it and I went to stand next to him, but couldn't bring myself to ask to shake his hand because I knew he thought I was disgusting. Later, I saw him changing into a dog costume and sure enough he was playing a lost dog -- and somehow I got to play the person who "found" him. So I "found" him on stage and was asking him questions about himself (as a dog) -- he said his name was "Sir Edgerton From Hell" and while thinking this must be some literary joke I didn't get, I woke up.
 
Not last night, but very recently I had a Morrissey dream:
Morrissey was singing at a small charity-for-kids concert and was interacting and making eye contact with everyone in the audience since the room was small and we were all up close. But every time I caught his eye he looked quickly away with a sneer, so I knew he thought I was repulsive which made me feel really sad. After the main show was over, he decided to do a little impromptu play. During this intermission he was talking to some theater people about it and I went to stand next to him, but couldn't bring myself to ask to shake his hand because I knew he thought I was disgusting. Later, I saw him changing into a dog costume and sure enough he was playing a lost dog -- and somehow I got to play the person who "found" him. So I "found" him on stage and was asking him questions about himself (as a dog) -- he said his name was "Sir Edgerton From Hell" and while thinking this must be some literary joke I didn't get, I woke up.

Sir Edgerton From Hell! <snort> May be best dog name ever!
 
That Rifke and 12 Slack got married and Urbanus did the honours. Then they moved to Utah and became mormons and suddenly Urbanus had two wifeys.
 
Last nights dream sorta started in the middle of the story with the premise magically know in that dream logic way. I was living in some old house with my family, wife child, and I was supposed to compile an album of songs, original or other I'm not sure, because the ghost or spirit of an old relationship visited me and informed me that only when completed would the relationship be resurrected. As I sat on the third and top floor, being on the top floor of a hou always makes me feel a bit trapped, with my son I became frustrated at not being able to do this as I had to constantly stop in order to help my child with something or another. At this point my wife came down in the middle of the night and promptly woke me and I moved on to other dreams I can only vaguely remember now. Lol how teenage romance made for TV movie can my dreams get with romantic ghosts that can only be saved by mix tapes
 
okay so I rarely ever dream, or rarely ever remember my dreams. but I had a dream last night featuring none other than our very own 12" on the slack. in it, to prove some kind of a point to me about animal cruelty or whatnot, he sent me a bunch of whole cooking chickens (not, you would probably say, that chickens are for cooking, but I say cooking chickens to mean the kind you buy at the grocery store--if you were to buy chickens at the grocery store--as opposed to live or feathered chickens). there were about six of them that he put in a large plastic bag, and I can see them clear as day sitting on my counter and remember thinking "what am I supposed to do with these". my apologies to 12" for not having been able to put him in a more exciting dream.
I think I mustve had chicken on my mind because I remember another little snippet of dream wherein I was meeting a friend on a day that happened to be my birthday but which, as it turns out, was also "national chicken day", and as I got into her car she gave me a present which I assumed to be a birthday present and after some exaggerated expressions of gratitude on my part I unwrapped it only to discover it was a bucket of fried chicken in observance of national chicken day, and not a birthday present at all. boy, was I miffed.

I feel honoured. :lbf:

:fire::fire::fire:
 
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This isn't a dream I had last night, but a few weeks ago. To cut a long story short, I dreamt I'd killed my brother in his bed (he's lovely, by the way) and I was still living at home and needed to get downstairs to wash the sheets but my mum was in the living room and she would see me. I don't know where the body had disappeared to. I came in on the dream just to see the bloodied bedsheets but as with all dreams, I knew what I'd done. Freud said that dreams are wish fulfilment and I asked myself how I could want to wish something so ghastly. When I examined this further I realised that this dream had served it's purpose. I was feeling particularly worthless during that time. When I awoke, for a few minutes I thought I was still a murderer. The sense of relief when I realised. I wasnt was immense. My dream had confirmed that as long as I didn't commit murder there was very little else I. could do that was worth beating myself up for. I felt better for the dream (horrible as it was). I think dreams are made of emotion Very often, in dreams, I imbue seemingly innocuous situations with unwarranted emotion. I think that once you are asleep the reasoning part of the brain is in standby mode and but the emotions are still prescient. Consequently we shoehorn the emotion to the nearest scenario we can find (namely, very recent events),,and then work through the emotion in a way that we couldn't during our waking hours, whether the scenario is befitting to the emotion or not, is neither here nor there. It would be interesting to see whether extroverts dream less and whether quiet, undemonstrative people dream more.
 
my dreams are that weird I should be locked up and the key never found again.
 
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