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Dreams (You've Dreamed; Compendium)

Last nights dream

I was staying at a friend house and this wierd vein in my left arm turned a deep redish purple. Everytime I lifted my arm it became raised amd bulbous. So we tried to phone NHS direct and was then picked up by an ambulance, where I was purged and you stayed in the Library. There was a strange prongy thing attached to my neck finger and ear. the one on my neck startec sucking pink gunk out. Then there was a pink mass whick exploded pink stuff over everyone, although no one seemed to bat an eyelid. Dr Makepeace(?) then drained blood from my ear and finger. When he had finished my stomach, but had a scar on it as you would if you had had the appendix removed. i was told I would be married in two years at 36 but then would be dying at 38!, my thoughts were, well that gives me 4 years to have a baby!

Any thoughts, it did freak me out a bit!
 
Sounds to me like you're concerned about health issues, probably involving bodily fluids, pressure, and/or swelling. Any infections ongoing? Sinus problems?

I note that you didn't dream this with the math-proficient part of your brain.
 
I have a touch of sinusitis at the moment, high blood pressure and a jelly belly, plus Ive been looking after my friends 3 year old daughter so I guess Im broody1
I think I just needed to hear that from someone I didnt know, thanks hun x
 
A paranormal dream story from an unusual source - govt. papers just released under the 30 year rule!

Dream that unlocked nuclear secret

The bizarre story of how a reporter's dream reputedly led to the uncovering of a secret British nuclear test is contained in the records.

In May 1974, the then Prime Minister, Harold Wilson, only told three Cabinet colleagues about a test to upgrade Polaris at a US underground facility in the Nevada desert.

Eventually, Mr Wilson was forced to admit to the test in Parliament after a Daily Express reporter, Chapman Pincher, claimed to have imagined a British nuclear blast in a dream.

When Pincher rang the Ministry of Defence, the answers he received were, he said, equivocal enough to convince him that he was on the right track.

"Against extra-sensory perception and the best contacts in Whitehall, I feel that we are powerless," commented a Foreign Office official in a memo to Downing Street released in the files.

http://tinyurl.com/2e6eg9
 
I'm working on a demon lover YA story right now, accessing all my hideous memories of the yearnings, rejections, traumas, and angst of high school. The book has mysterious dreams, ghosts, hallucinations, unrequited love, suicidal ideation, dust storms, floods, humiliation, bad poetry, and worse judgments. I've dragged out yearbooks and school magazines and photo albums, dug deep into my psyche, and pulled repressed memories to the surface.

So what hideous dreams emerge from this stew?

Well, last night I drove down to the coast and was wandering around a wetland I'd never been at before - but I'd left my binoculars behind!

Reckon maybe I'm over it finally? Or am I just having a really good week? Only time will tell!
 
Last night I dreamed that some chap was giving me lavish praise for some speech I'd made, or some talk I'd given. My words were important, full of understanding and meaning, almost god-like in knowledge, etc, etc.

Now this was probably just my brain incorporating something on the radio (which I leave on all night) into my dreams, but since most of my dreams usually contain embarrassment, discomfort, bafflement, and a host of other negative emotions, it was nice to experience something positive for a change! :D

I wish I knew what I had been supposed to have said, however! :?
 
Nasty Nightmare

Just last week I experienced one of the four really nasty nightmares I've ever had in my life.

There was a rumor circulating (within the dream) that there was a new type of monster/disease/horror/something that hid between the pages of books. When the book was opened there would be a hideously-bright flash of light which would instantaneously devour the book opener's entire face, leaving a deep concave wound. The victim would survive, if you can call it that - blind, deaf and completely brain-dead.

[No, I don't know how other people would have learned this.]

Even I didn't believe such a stupid urban legend.

Then I opened a book and was greeted by that furiously-intense light. It seemed to throw tendrils of electricity towards and into my face. It was painful. But even more it was hideously ring-little-bell unclean.

I was damned, doomed. Light and sound ceased. Thought....

That's what brought me awake. If I was brain-dead, why was I thinking about it?

Then I noticed the illumination from the street lamp outside and the shush-shush of automobile tires.

But I still reached up, with both hands, to make certain that I still had a face rather than a gaping hole.

That dream was constantly with me for four or five days, interfering with almost everything I tried to accomplish.
 
Criminetly, that is a bad dream! If monsters lived in books I would die so fast...

So far this year I've been able to remember at least one dream every night; or at least chunks of them. Furthermore, if I don't write them down and then later think: Wait, what was that dream about? Shoot, I've forgotten; in a few minutes I dredge up the memory again, or at least as much of a memory as one could reasonably expect - a few images, glimpses of plot, in-dream emotions.

This seems to be related to an exercise I got out of a book called "The Secret History of Last Night's Dream." The main point of the book seemed problematic (but then, don't they always?), but it casts illuminating sidelights on other themes and experiences - for instance, the process of dreamwork described resembles the process of recovering past life memories to a remarkable degree.

Anyway, it starts with getting your brain to shut up and pay attention to images, and the author describes in passing a healing visualization in which you picture yourself sweeping a big pile of leaves (your random scattered thoughts) together, then put one old dry leaf on a problem area of your body and turn it green again. This supposedly has a healing effect on the problem area. Thinking that I can use a little placebo effect as much as the next person, I started doing this during the wait to fall asleep. It's harder than it sounds; for some reason forming planned images without using words results in less vivid images than my usual course of video-verbal imagining. Whether it's helping my various middle-aged aches and pains or not is hard to say (but I can say the same of the analgesics I take), but pushing those leaves together and deliberately focusing on imagery does seem to improve dream recall a lot.

So far I've had Aretha Franklin over for board games, lived next door to Melissa Etheridge on the beach, observed but not participated in a complex thriller, gotten completely lost only to get directions from helpful strangers who liked my books, failed to keep an Irish setter from hurling herself out a second story window onto a picnic table, dealt with some disgusting messes, visited some interesting stores, rebelled against the status quo in my unpleasant city, gone birdwatching in my pleasant city, and seen more of my birth family than I have in years. I can't say it's taught me anything very profound, but that's probably my own fault.
 
I've been able to identify three triggers for my nightmare:

1. I had been only recently listening to an episode of the circa 1969 South African radio horror anthology, BEYOND MIDNIGHT. The story title: "Let Me See Your Face." It involved a previously-vain woman whose face had been so hideously burned that it drove onlookers mad. The odd thing, though, is that I've listened to this program at least two dozen times over the past 15 or 20 years and never dreamed about it before.

2. The bright light is explained by the fact that I was awaiting an in-depth hospital eye examination (which I had two days ago).

3. The concave face took longer to recall. But when I was 11 or 12 years old I left an incandescent light bulb lying on my bedroom floor for several hours and it charred an ugly concave "face" into the wood. Can't say it bothered me much at the time, though.
 
When the face was burned into the wood and you listened to this radio show before you were not awaiting an eye exam. If you had any anxieties about it - if you fear the results, or are squeamish about the procedure - then that anxiety would tend to invade the random mental images and rearrange them into a narrative that expressed and (I hope; no one should have to face a procedure one-tenth as scary as that dream!) exacerbated that feeling, perhaps hooking up to other related anxieties you've been avoiding.

That's how I read it, anyway. You haven't been reading anything lately that made you feel threatened, have you - something in the newspaper or in your research that raises issues you don't want to think about? Because the obvious theme "reading is dangerous" is a strange one for a reading addict (which I get the impression you are, and an excellent addiction it is, too!) to have.
 
PeniG said:
You haven't been reading anything lately that made you feel threatened, have you - something in the newspaper or in your research that raises issues you don't want to think about?
Click to expand...
Well, he reads this MB - that's enough to give anyone with any imagination
the heebie-jeebies!

8)
 
PeniG said:
You haven't been reading anything lately that made you feel threatened, have you - something in the newspaper or in your research that raises issues you don't want to think about?
Click to expand...

The only thing I can think of is that I spent a bad eight weeks late last year after my primary care physician became concerned that I might have prostate cancer. It was eight weeks from that office visit until the results from the biopsy. Malignancy-free.

And even in a worse case scenario prostate cancer is 98 percent curable. But when you have OCD like I do that two percent comes regularly knocking at the door dressed like a giant birthday cake numeral.

As for the "reading is dangerous" idea, the things and themes which scare me the most are the ones closest to home. If a horror story takes place across the wide ocean and beyond that impassable mountain range, it usually doesn't scare me very much.

I remember a horror novel I read two decades or so ago which affected me much more than most. Why? Because the horror was set so close to me that all the radio and television and newspaper reporters sent to the scene were headquartered in downtown Cincinnati.
 
So, last night I went to the sleep disorder clinic for a sleep study. I've been a light sleeper all my life, but recently it's been debilitating and my husband says I snore more often than I used to, so I figured it was time. I was so tired I was afraid I'd have a good night, but being in a strange place apparently acted as a counterbalance and I had a normal one - long lead time to fall asleep, at least four wakings.

The expected result was sleep apnea and the tech told me that if my breathing met certain criteria she'd come in and put a C-PAP mask on during the later part of the night so as to evaluate the difference it would make. Twice I dreamed that she had done so and I couldn't keep the thing on. During one of these, I dreamed that I walked out of the sleep center, looked up, and saw giant flying horses - a pinto and a white one - interacting around the roof of the Tower Life Building. I watched them for a time, realizing that this was impossible, noting that they were definitely horses and not pegasi, then went back in and told the doctor that I was badly sleep deprived, as demonstrated by the fact that I was hallucinating. I had to take him out to prove to him that I had drawn the correct conclusion and that no one but me could see the giant flying horses - which by that time had turned into a single bay horse ridden by an anime-style cowboy.

I have to give a presentation and run a bunch of workshops tomorrow, so I need to go to bed early tonight and hope for make-up sleep. I never did generate the respiratory signals that would have prompted the mask, which means it's not something as simple as ordinary sleep apnea, though at least the tech confirmed that I kept waking up and there's a problem. One of the reasons I haven't been to a doctor about this before is that, like most of the things that go wrong with me, my insomnia is consistent but not blatant and I have to let things get debilitating before I can get the doctors to take me seriously. Life is so much easier if you're in the thick part of the bell curve, medically.

(If you want to be able to picture my dream better, or just see a beautiful building, go to the following URL. The text pretty much sums up the Tower Life Experience. I love that building. No giant horses, though.)
http://www.waltlockley.com/towerlife/towerlife.htm
 
So, last night I went to the sleep disorder clinic for a sleep study. I've been a light sleeper all my life, but recently it's been debilitating and my husband says I snore more often than I used to, so I figured it was time. I was so tired I was afraid I'd have a good night, but being in a strange place apparently acted as a counterbalance and I had a normal one - long lead time to fall asleep, at least four wakings.

The expected result was sleep apnea and the tech told me that if my breathing met certain criteria she'd come in and put a C-PAP mask on during the later part of the night so as to evaluate the difference it would make. Twice I dreamed that she had done so and I couldn't keep the thing on. During one of these, I dreamed that I walked out of the sleep center, looked up, and saw giant flying horses - a pinto and a white one - interacting around the roof of the Tower Life Building. I watched them for a time, realizing that this was impossible, noting that they were definitely horses and not pegasi, then went back in and told the doctor that I was badly sleep deprived, as demonstrated by the fact that I was hallucinating. I had to take him out to prove to him that I had drawn the correct conclusion and that no one but me could see the giant flying horses - which by that time had turned into a single bay horse ridden by an anime-style cowboy.

I have to give a presentation and run a bunch of workshops tomorrow, so I need to go to bed early tonight and hope for make-up sleep. I never did generate the respiratory signals that would have prompted the mask, which means it's not something as simple as ordinary sleep apnea, though at least the tech confirmed that I kept waking up and there's a problem. One of the reasons I haven't been to a doctor about this before is that, like most of the things that go wrong with me, my insomnia is consistent but not blatant and I have to let things get debilitating before I can get the doctors to take me seriously. Life is so much easier if you're in the thick part of the bell curve, medically.

(If you want to be able to picture my dream better, or just see a beautiful building, go to the following URL. The text pretty much sums up the Tower Life Experience. I love that building. No giant horses, though.)
http://www.waltlockley.com/towerlife/towerlife.htm
 
Agh, sorry. How does one go about deleting a duplicate post?
 
Drifting in and out of sleep this morning, I had a dream that I couldn't turn off the gas in my grill - with the knob turned to OFF there was still a small flame.

I found this so disturbing that I was about to get up and check

- until I remembered that I don't have gas here! Doh!
 
Sorry to interrupt your pleasantries folks. I dreamt last night about an epic movement of believers [x-tians only] and their different chosen fates. There were those [Jesuites] that would be killed by "magick" if they so desired, another cue was for those that wanted to pilgrimage etc.
The weirdest was a huge Train, called MIRIAM BAMBELA :roll: who was not made by human hands...

Yup, just a dream but I thought due to remembering the Trains name I'll stick it on here.
 
They don't make trains at BamBela though.
And who is Miriam?
Nice find but my dream was obviously just a lot of flaps. :)
 
I was camping alone this weekend, in a little pop-up tent in a field out of sight of the highway but not (alas) out of earshot of the quarry across the road, which operates into the wee hours of the morning. I'm a light sleeper at the best of times and on a hot summer night on the hard ground with the sound of rock-breaking machinery and trucks backing up, the only way I know I slept at all is that I had dreams. In all of them, I woke for my eagerly anticipated day at the dig site and found things I wasn't expecting.

One of them was cool - a bright blue bird with antlers. Very rare! :eek: The antlers were only on the male and it had distinctive orange markings, which I had no difficulty looking up in the field guide.

In another, I woke up and found myself in the middle of an archeological jamboree for probably about 50 scout troops, which had arrived later than me and filled the (suddenly much larger) meadow with crowds of tents. Instead of digging, I found myself on kitchen duty, peeling peaches and figuring out how to make cobbler without an oven, while scoutmasters ran around with plastic arrows.

There were others, but all the rest have faded. After the quarry finally shut down, I kept waking thinking little animals were inspecting the tent. I had set it up facing into the prevailing breeze, for coolness (even so I spent three-quarters of the night naked on top of the sleeping bag - the people on the adjacent property told me next day that the meadow was the hottest spot on the rim) and it turns out that the sound of the breeze puffing the tent in and out and moving the dangling rain guard sounds exactly like four little paws and sniffing.
 
Hi, Peni.

In the past you've commented on the strange fact for a book-addict I seem to have anti-book, "books are dangerous" dreams.

I've never yet mentioned the real corker of nightmares along this line.

For at least the past decade I've regularly dreamed that I am all alone in a book-filled house. Every wall of every room on every floor is lined with floor-to-ceiling shelves. There are neat stacks of books upon the floors.

All well and good so far.

But suddenly the building begins filling with books, as though great reservoirs have opened. Upon attempting to escape, I discover that the doors and windows are now entirely hidden by thousands of books. More books are falling in avalanches down the stairs or swelling up them from below.

I always do eventually manage to escape by furiously digging through to an upper window. I'm sitting on the windowsill, legs dangling outside, wondering if I dare drop to a roof two stories below, when the dream ends and I awake.

The spirit of the dream, and most likely its inspiration, resembles the scene towards the end of LAND OF THE PHARAOHS, where Joan Collins gets herself sealed inside Khufu's pyramid.
 
Hi OTM, Your dreams of books containing an infective agent (which seems in your dreams to be some sort of leprosy, destroying the face and as you say "unclean") reminds me of the theme in Umberto Ecos book "The Name of the Rose". As to being in a house that is wall to wall books, sounds like you have projected yourself into my home! (you will always be welcome!)

My nightmares usually involve being trapped either underwater or in an aquarium, that is a place with lots of big tanks of water surrounding you, like a sea life centre. I do not feel that I am drowning but the sounds are different, it is cold and my vision is impaired. I also experience a metallic smell and taste. I feel trapped and afraid of unseen things moving around me. It's odd really as I live on the coast and love to walk along the shore where I feel at peace.
 
I can't describe my worst nightmare in detail because it will make me cry, but it usually involves my partner, brother or mother on a mortuary slab, and I have to identify their body. Its very graphic and feels very real. And I'm welling up so thats all I can type.
 
celticrose said:
Miriam bambella sounds like a anagram if you ask me.
Click to expand...

Interesting idea, just tried it out but I am really bad at anagrams.
 
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