- Joined
- Aug 15, 2005
- Messages
- 5,521
Here are the ones I remember:
Age Four. Dreamed that my Mother and I walked down to the dentist's office in my hometown. Every person we encounted was a STICK PERSON. But my mother recognized them all and greeted them by name. My dentist and his nurse were also stick people. This was a fairly pleasant dream.
Age Five. The first nightmare I can recall. I'd been given a little red rocking chair and I loved to sit in it and rock. But one day the arms of the chair turned into hairy human arms. The left arm held me tightly in place while the other hand held a giant hypodermic needle and tried to jab me with it. I broke free and ran into the living room. Several family members sat talking, including my parents and my Dad's brother Bob. I related what had happened and asked what it meant. "Somebody's trying to kill you, I guess," said Uncle Bob. "I'm just glad it's you and not me." Then everybody went back to talking, ignoring me. (THAT was the nightmare part.)
Age Six. My parents and Uncle Bob and I rode a sort of indoor roller coaster inside a downtown Cincinnati department store. The coaster was a very gentle ride and everything went fine until the very end of the dream when the coaster mechanism went crazy and started throwing people out of the cars and smashing them against walls, ceilings and floors.
Age Four. Dreamed that my Mother and I walked down to the dentist's office in my hometown. Every person we encounted was a STICK PERSON. But my mother recognized them all and greeted them by name. My dentist and his nurse were also stick people. This was a fairly pleasant dream.
Age Five. The first nightmare I can recall. I'd been given a little red rocking chair and I loved to sit in it and rock. But one day the arms of the chair turned into hairy human arms. The left arm held me tightly in place while the other hand held a giant hypodermic needle and tried to jab me with it. I broke free and ran into the living room. Several family members sat talking, including my parents and my Dad's brother Bob. I related what had happened and asked what it meant. "Somebody's trying to kill you, I guess," said Uncle Bob. "I'm just glad it's you and not me." Then everybody went back to talking, ignoring me. (THAT was the nightmare part.)
Age Six. My parents and Uncle Bob and I rode a sort of indoor roller coaster inside a downtown Cincinnati department store. The coaster was a very gentle ride and everything went fine until the very end of the dream when the coaster mechanism went crazy and started throwing people out of the cars and smashing them against walls, ceilings and floors.