• We have updated the guidelines regarding posting political content: please see the stickied thread on Website Issues.

What Did You Dream Of Last Night?

I had a dream I was dancing to Elvis's hit Way Down, really going for it, bustin' moves and throwing shapes. Yes, I'd gone to sleep with the radio on.
 
Brace yourselves for action and violence.

Last night, I dreamt that I, my wife and 2 children were on vacation somewhere in Northern France. It was a large city but I didn't actually know the name. We were visiting friends who lived in the countryside and they had bought tickets to a large stadium concert. We had taken a public bus to this large city. We walked down a large, wide, modern city street and were part of thousands of people all walking towards the stadium. Everyone was happy, the kids were ducking in and out of peoples legs and the evening sun was warm on our backs. We passed over a bridge and continued in amongst the concrete support pillars under the stadium. Suddenly, there was a large explosion from inside the stadium and the ground shook. I thought it was a terrorist attack and went to grab my childrens hands. But they were lost in the crowd. Suddenly, all hell broke loose with helicopters, soldiers dressed all in black, people screaming, explosions and then I saw it - a zombie eating a person. The explosion had been a dirt bomb, releasing a chemical which turned people into zombies. Everyone inside the stadium was now a flesh eating zombie trying to get out.

Everyone started running back over the bridge and I was swept along, not knowing where my wife or children were. I was screaming their names but it was drowned out with all the other noise and screams. I tried to stop and look for them, climbing up on railings to see over the crowd. Suddenly, I saw my sons face so I jumped down, ran over and swept him up in my arms as I was running. We made it over the bridge just in time. The bridge was a kind of Tower Bridge affair which opened in the middle. They opened the bridge with people screaming and falling into the river below. Everyone left on the other side was done for. They were being exterminated by the black-clad soldiers - even the healthy were being killed.

Then helicopters swooped in and more soldiers abseiled down onto the ground on this side of the bridge. They were armed with shotguns, hand-axes, club hammers and batons. They charged towards us and we all ran, splitting up, taking shelter wherever we could.

We were running down an exclusive street filled with Gucci and YSL shops. One soldier caught up to me and my son and he pushed us both to the ground. I couldn't understand what he was shouting but I told my son to just lie still. He then shone some sort of scanner or something into my eyes and then did the same to my son. It gave off a huge, bright flash of white light. He must have been satisfied because he whispered in English, "Run. Run away as far as you can". So we did. As we were running we saw people failing the scans. They were clubbed to death on the street - women, men and children.

The next thing I remember was sitting on a public bus. My wife and daughter had joined us and we were on the same number bus trying to get back to wherever we had come from. We were tired, sweaty, scared and shaking but everyone else was acting normal as if they were unaware of what had happened. It was as if we had made it to another town and the news hadn't reached here yet.

Everyone looked normal but then I noticed a man sitting on the other side of the aisle had started coughing. He looked like he had the flu but then I saw him twitching and starting to snarl. I ran to the front and screamed at the driver to stop. I bundled my family off the bus and said to the driver, "Get off this bus if you want to live". But the bus continued and I started kicking myself at my stupidity.

I had let an infected travel nearer to OUR destination. I should have thrown him off the bus instead of us leaving it.
We ran down a flight on concrete/inner city steps and found (of all things) a massage parlour called The Swedish Lotus. It was closed but my wife banged on the metal shutters and somone answered. My wife explained in Swedish that we needed shelter and the woman took us in. We explained what had happened and she showed us the TV. Similar explasions had happened in stadiums all over Europe. And now nowhere was safe.

Then I woke up. More tired than when I went to bed.
Wow! Write a script. Get it filmed.
 
Wow! Write a script. Get it filmed.
I know. It reads like one and it was a flowing narrative (except for he jump to the bus). But in all I suppose it would amount to about 10 minutes of film. I can still remember the colours I saw in the dream, the clothes people wore, how the soldiers moved in formations, the smoke over the top of the stadium and drifting over the bridge.

I often have very vivid dreams which I can remember in detail. I often wake up exhausted in the mornings with my sheets soaked through and all tangled up into knots. My wife, on the other hand, never remembers her dreams and wakes up in the same position as which she fell asleep. She looks angelic and beautiful in the mornings. I tend to look like...well, like I've just been through a zombie apocalypse.
 
Strange things near Lichfield station, a bizarre chase through a shopping centre involving some sort of beam weapon that emanated from the pages of a paperback, a drive in my first car, and someone from work asking me tricky questions, which I tried to find answers for in a book. This book may or may not have been the earlier one with the death-ray - in any case, I struggled to make sense of anything inside it.
 
An odd one last night: I was responsible for making a Duck-vane (like a weather vane, but with a duck instead of a cockerel). For some reason the duck was meant to be mostly black, but with a splash of white on its sides/wings. That's all I can remember now.
 
1) Which Lichfield station?
2) What strange things?

1. City, the one that Swifty also alluded to.

2. Hard to explain, and it will be extremely boring to a non-enthusiast of railway matters. The thing was, there was more of the station and its surroundings than there should have been. I was on a train, entering from the Shenstone direction, and as we came over a bridge, I noticed a lot of rolling stock in sidings to the left, such as carriages done up in the old BR departmental colours (that is, red and blue), and what looked like an HST, but in the colours of the HST prototype (light grey with a bit of blue). I remember thinking that it was odd that I'd never noticed those sidings before, when we passed them, and entered another section of normal double track. After a short while, we then reached the station proper (I think that this was after crossing another bridge, very similar to the first), so I'm guessing that my dream imagined these other tracks to be about a half-mile short of the station itself. This geography makes no sense - the only way to enter Lichfield City from the South whilst crossing two bridges in such quick succession would be on the old line from Brownhills and Hammerwich, which has been shut since before I was born.

As I said, possibly quite boring. Nothing supernatural in that part of the dream, but it felt odd to have such a firm sense of place at the same time as coming across a few hundred yards of a familiar city that couldn't possibly exist.
 
Last edited:
Don't know what I dreamt of last night, but when I woke up this morning, I'd clearly had a nosebleed - was I fighting Klingons, or the romantic attentions of some of the posters on this site (they know who they are!) - but I haven't had a nose bleed in years, and other than that, I am in good health!
 
.. other than that, I am in good health!

Glad to hear it Tigerhawk ! .. I threw up in an alleyway this morning waiting for someone I know to show me his complete collection of Beatrix Potter uncirculated 50p coins ... as you do .. (it wasn't some kind of shady deal, his house just backs onto that alley) I put it down to the heat.

The other night I dreamed that I was having sex with a Polish girl with raw looking mouth sores ?!! ... I've absolutely no idea what that's might be supposed to mean but at least the Mrs laughed about it when I told her ..
 
I threw up in an alleyway this morning waiting for someone I know to show me his complete collection of Beatrix Potter uncirculated 50p coins ... as you do .. (it wasn't some kind of shady deal, his house just backs onto that alley) I put it down to the heat.

I'd put it down to an allergy to anthropomorphised furry animals. But I do tend to overthink stuff.
 
I'd put it down to an allergy to anthropomorphised furry animals. But I do tend to overthink stuff.
I think your explanation is supercalifradgilisticexpealidous - shus but then so do I.
 
I'm a retired Infant teacher, and I have a fairly regular 'stress' dream where I realise to my guilty horror that a whole term has gone by without me hearing the children read to me ( a very important part of the job, when I was doing it!)

Yesterday, in real life, I had a totally unexpected phone call from my very unhappy son, telling me that his girlfriend wanted 'out' of the relationship, despite the fact that they have recently started buying an extortionately expensive London flat together.
The phone call ended with me offering to lend him a really large amount of my own savings, so that he can buy the flat on his own.

I woke up this morning, very surprised to realised that I had been dreaming my usual school 'stress ' dream, but with a happy ending! The pupil who I had failed to hear read, was in fact a fluent reader anyway, so my failure didn't matter. I was absolved of my guilt!

Now, what do I make of that? My subconscious was obviously trying to cheer me up.
Is it that I musn't worry about my son? Or that I musn't worry about my money?
Your guess is as good as mine!
 
The other night I had an incredibly high-definition dream in which I was walking down a footpath with my 3 year old daughter. It was like a dried up river bed or an old railway line that had been converted into a footpath or something. We had walked through a tunnel (under a broad bridge of sorts) and upon coming out the other end, I experienced an overwhelming feeling of dread, then spotted a thin half-clothed humanoid, crouched on the floor about 50 yards ahead of us. Then my daughter was no longer with me and I approached the creature tentatively. I can only describe him (definitely a him, had thin scraggy stubble) as being like Smeagol in LOTR. He had his head lowered between his knees and as I approached he looked up right at me. The dread rose, and as I made eye contact his eyes were clearly totally black, and he was all of a sudden standing, and right up in my face. I awoke with a massive start and the scene ingrained in my mind. The odd thing about the dream was the high definition quality of the imagery, it was by far the most lucid dream I've had in a long time. I wondered if it was a psychic attack. I drew seven rings of light around myself and my family and went back to sleep about half an hour later.
 
The odd thing about the dream was the high definition quality of the imagery

I wonder if technology is invading our dreams. A significant number reported lately seem to borrow a lot from genre movies, ranging from soap opera to action movies and horrors. Once upon a time, it was widely debated whether we dreamed in colour or black-and-white. A monochrome dream would probably be remarked upon these days as a period-piece! I recently reported a dream in which the horrific effects of a violent attack were tastefully invisible beneath the bottom of the frame. So, who dreams in boring old mono, who gets stereo and who has the whole surround shebang? :)

PS: The post really belongs in the Dreams thread with related material.
 
Last edited:
yes, black/white dreams = grew up with a b/w tv, i still dream in vinyl
 
Schools loom large in my anxiety dreams too, though they are usually hybrid places. Last night's atrocity featured an establishment in which I wandered around, intruding on a side-ward, where two beds were attended by a young doctor. I backed out of the place - it was high, white and brighly-lit - something horrid was happening but I was keen to stay on side and not make trouble!

Next I found what I needed: the gents' room*. I had to lug some sacks of rubbish away from the green, wooden door. This should have told me the facility was not currently in use. As I opened the door, I was briefly pleased by the sight of a row of old-fashioned urinals in brown stoneware on the left of the ill-lit room. As I prepared to put them to use, I was detained at the door by the Headmaster. I gestured towards the pissoir but it vanished and the large room shrank to a narrow cupboard with come cleaning utensils. I felt I had let myself down but the Headmaster suggested I stay for the sake of the parade.

This proved to be a very eerie procession of small children in monochrome uniforms or masks of animal and insect design. They emerged from a building in a very long line, as if they had some serious ritual purpose that I could not fathom. I made a decision to leave the premises by a narrow set of stone steps. This scene was in High Definition as I saw how the steps were full of half-eaten sandwiches discarded by the spoiled brats of the school.

Now things stepped up several gears as a mail or security van came screeching up the road. It was quite narrow, squarely built and very unsteady on its axles, for all the world like a table-top model in an ancient film. Instead of slowing, its speed deliberately increased. For a moment it looked as if the driver was going to plough into a bus-stop of people. Then the real target proved to be an electrical sub-station next to the bus-stop. Mistaking it for a gas facility, someone cried out that there would be a terrible explosion but, despite a fierce fire and sparks, I understood that the driver had intended to electrocute himself and that this place offered the highest voltage on earth. I watched the conflagration with my cheek against a cool, stone wall, trying to stay out of the line of dangerous rays.

The blazing was a protracted affair. There was a general understanding that the driver was not to be rescued - indeed it would not be merciful to try to save him. We knew it was a him in the telepathic way dreams signal information and I had some sort of X-ray view of his incinerated corpse. :eek:

*Despite the quest for a toilet in the dream, this was not a reflection of any pressing need to awake and pee.
 
Last edited:
Strange things near Lichfield station

Before you explained what you meant by "strange things near Lichfield station", this is what immediately turned up in my mind's eye...

image.jpeg


Because, obviously, a man-eating tree is the most logical conclusion! :p
 
Last edited:
Obviously!

Although, in real life, there's enough interesting stuff around Lichfield without carnivorous trees - it's one of England's smallest cities, but with one of the most impressive cathedrals, Samuel Johnson was born there, the captain of the Titanic wasn't, but there is a statue of him anyway. On top of that, there's some lovely architecture, Erasmus Darwin's house...

Seriously, if you've never been, you should!

As a postscript, I should say that this most recent dream of Lichfield was one of the few I've had which bore much resemblance to the real place, which is why the differences seemed so strange on this occasion.
 
Had a weird one last night.
I was trying to turn a couch into something else and although it would change for a short time it would quickly change back as soon as I took my eyes off it.
 
Last night I dreamt that Donald Trump cornered me in a room and tried to grope me. :eek:
Wherever he'd put his hands, my skin broke out in a ringworm-like fungus. :eek: :eek:
The ringworm was shaped like the Time-Warner symbol. :p

Clearly, my unconscious thinks I'm seeing too much election news!
 
Too many fragments of various kinds in an interrupted sleep.

The most coherent (!) part was set in a sitting-room en famille - though, as usual, my parents were imposters.

I was fiddling with a device which looked exactly like an ink-jet printer, except that it was meant to be a recording device and was illuminated inside; the cover was lifted. I had managed to load some sort of cylinder - not so retro. as the name implies. This was the master-recording, I gather, as I now had to locate a spindle of CD-Rs to make a copy. This was odd, for the machine looked built to receive some smaller squarer media, like a micro-cassette. I seemed convinced that if only a disc could be found, the place to stick it would be obvious!

I was failing in this task; the spindle was nowhere to be found. Urgency was the keynote and my "mother" was in a flap, assisting in the job, much to my annoyance, as things were being confused. The most vivid moment came when she raised the seat of a wicker chair; in a space meant to house magazines, there was a nest of living snakes.

"Adders!" were helpfully identified by someone's cry.

The seat was dropped with only a small bit of adder still visible in the gap. At this point, I located the spindle of discs but was dismayed to find most of them missing. By agreement, the adders could wait and attention reverted to the recording machine.

Triggers? I had lifted a bin-bag in the yard and found a community of large earthworms the previous day. Opening a can-of-worms and failing to deal with it is an obvious anxiety-related theme. I had not bothered with my ink-jet printer for some weeks, though I had recently tidied away some refill materials from a failed attempt to get it working. The spindle full of CD-Rs relates to one behind me on the shelf; that is never used and may well be past its useful date. I had, however, recently bought a 32 Gb USB-stick for some back-up of my files. Probably I should not delay that task! :oops:

Edit
I do not have a wicker chair, though I had one years ago in my bedroom as a youngster. That one did not not have a hinged seat with any storage for magazines, adders or anything. I can think of ottomans and maybe stools which had . . . It's a can of worms!
 
Last edited:
A very weird one.

I was using a fish-slice to lift a kind of river-bank. When I say a river-bank, it was a long, bank of moss supported on a metal base, like a gutter. The scale was all wrong! As I did so, a lot of impossibly-cute round faces of baby tigers started to peep out of their nests in the bank, as their homes were being tossed around on my utensil. This was bound to cause real trouble and it arrived in the form of a more dangerous tiger - hardly much bigger than the babies but more inclined to come out the hole and bite me.

Now the rôles were reversed and I was in mortal terror of the tiger I had awoken. All I had to fight against it was a screw-driver. At some point, it metamorphosed into a tarantula and I ended the dream in horrible triumph stabbing the thing through its back multiple times until I hit the heart and it expired in spurt of purple blood.

Triggers: I had been cooking hearts, albeit lambs' hearts and thinking of the blood clots in them.

"Did He who made the lamb make thee?" :confused:
 
Carrying an acoustic guitar up a mountain. An English mountain, so no actual rock climbing involved. A couple of stone farmhouses and some fell-runners. Scary drops to either side.
Then illegal logging with Sandi Toksvig. We'd drive our flatbed truck into woodland at the side of the road and she would set about a couple of pine trees with a chainsaw. My only task was to help her throw the logs into a pile.
 
My wife and I watched the X-Files episode where Skinner is haunted by a succubus and suffering from nightmares. (S3E21 or22)

Then we went to bed and I dreamt of a HUGE snake living under/around the house. I kept waking up and thinking that the snake was real and wondering where it was. I imagined it dragging me out of bed.

My wife dreamt that her mother and father were in a car crash and that her mother died.

Triggers: The X-Files episode obviously (as Skinners wife nearly dies in a car crash) and as for me, I had watched a video on Youtube about a family home that had been infested with snakes. They were under the house, in the walls, everywhere. Hundereds of them.
 
Last edited:
Carrying an acoustic guitar up a mountain. An English mountain, so no actual rock climbing involved. A couple of stone farmhouses and some fell-runners. Scary drops to either side.
Then illegal logging with Sandi Toksvig. We'd drive our flatbed truck into woodland at the side of the road and she would set about a couple of pine trees with a chainsaw. My only task was to help her throw the logs into a pile.
Was the address No. 73 ? ..
 
I was returning home from a trip abroad with a group. At customs or passport control I made some remark which resulted in all of us being searched. It turned out that half of us were terrorists! (not me!) the terrorists were taken way. I then found out there was a gun in my jacket pocket! It had been planted on me after I was searched. Not by the police because I got out of the airport. I then met up with about 20 of my non-terrorist fellow travelers in a fish & chip shop and we all ordered varying fish with chips.
 
Back
Top