DREAMS ABOUT DEATH
there are a lot of subcategories to this topic.
the great thing about dreaming in bulk, is you can separate your life into these little dream theme eras. for example, i had a lot of chasing dreams when i was little. -- running away from something horrifying, or getting stuck while something threatening closes in on me - always escaping at the last second - running like mad. I'd say these lasted till i was about 10, maybe 8.
from 11-14 i had a lot of smothering dreams. dreams the air was removed from the room...dreams my lungs filled up with cotton (great feeling), a hand over my mouth, biological war fare. drowning. a lot of drowning. so when i was fifteen i learned out to breath underwater. I still don't like my breathing infringed upon in my waking life. these dreams were a big deal.
The first drowning dream i had: age 12
awake: i am laying in bed staring at the fan..i start twitching something awful and try to move. i can not move (my first (remembered) experience of sleep paralysis...beginning of a fun life). i start to panic, this would not be obvious, i cannot move. the room is as it is. three dark hooded figures float above me. they say nothing. the don't move. they just hover above my head between me and my fan. i dont know that i'm asleep, but i figure i must not be awake. i feel pushing on my chest, my legs being squeezed. now i am on a boat. my cousin is floating in the water. i jump in to join him. my sister and my other cousin are there. they are tredding water. i try to but i cant. i go under. they grab for me but i sink farther and farther down. i struggle, my lungs fill with water. my cousins face with his hand extended -- a last bit of light, the sun on the surface of the water, flickers green. i wake up exhausted.
The last drowning dream I allowed myself to have: age...13/14
Everything around me is white. there is a a rumbling drone sound. i take a breath and and immediately choked. i realize my head, my whole body is submerged underwater, my hands are behind my back--the rumbling sound is the facet. i struggle to get up. there is smeothing holding me down, not a person, but some device. my hands are tied together so well. i remember how i set it up so i couldn't change my mind. i grimice, i am exhausted. i look to my left and see red dancing like ink in the water. my brain goes completely warm and then an orange black like closing your eyes in the sun. the warm trickles down the sides of my head and all over my body. (what it feels like to die in every dream i've ever died in).
That was the first suicide dream i ever had. arguably the only one, but there's no one to argue these things over given they're exclusive to me. Dark times man...
-8/10 - chasing dreams
11+ : experience of voices in the room
12-14: smothering dreams (drowning) - highlighted by occasional hallucinations of people in the room, holding me down, smothering me, often times worse.
13-17: people standing over me, i'd say 14+ is when the narcolepsy kicked in full force
14-18: witnessing the harming of the people i love. lots of blood. everyone dies
15-20: apocalyptic dreams. surviving or not. if surviving, dealing with it.
18-22: the fucking warrior years. i kicked ass during this time.
21-22: passive and scary individuals in my space. people being harmed in my presence, maybe indirectly because of me. me helpless.
8-22: sex dreams. haha they're no nightmare! but recurring none-the-less...
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
Monday, February 22, 2010
holy/hell
.....(long excessive dream introduction)
i am with a friend from elementary school, Stephen. He is pale and red haired. I associate him with ron from harry potter. We are in an old irish or english home. After doing some weird dream shit with floating candles, we are sitting at the base of an old wooden, creakedy staircase. at the top of the stairs the door opens to a kitchen where an overweight women is working.
"you know you are great. you are destined for greatness, there's no avoiding it. why don't your let people know? why won't you let yourself be." he says. i am sitting with my back to the top of the stairs. as he is explaining and asking i get tense and nervous. i start to cry. i do a paranoid back check, looking behind me up the stairs and into the kitchen. "because what i'm destined to be great at, people will want to hurt me for."
he looks at me with revelation in his eyes. "that's right. he had said tha..." a woodcarving tool comes shooting through the open door at the top of the stairs, hitting him dead center in the forehead. i leap to block it, but am too late. blood blends red with his hair and trickles over his blue eyes. i quickly 'bless' the other two people we are with and feel awful for not doing this sooner.
i wake myself up to avoid conflict. once awake, i consider going back to sleep and starting the dream just before the blade was thrown and to stop it so i could hear what he was going to say. I decide not to. no sense in putting yourself in a hostile situation. I am sick of bloody dreams.
(((((((earlier dream)))))))))
looking to sex an attractive white male who is down to sex me (no use on wasting my *mental energy* on someone who's going to be difficult). mark with green light. encounter too young of a someone. new criteria - 21+ - marked by blue light.
i find some dude, he is crossing the street with three girls. he is wearing a camel colored jacket. i whisper in his ear. he smiles and tells the girls he'll catch up with them in five minutes. oh great! that's not time at all. i get us in cab.
we share a cab with some strangers. end up in a hotel
i find a way to get a room for free
room 32.
we're going to the room. people from the cab are coming down the hall. my sex toy boy is starting to deflate. i try to hold him up straight as they pass so they won't be suspicious of us. soon he deflates all the way. i am holding a limp suit wearing skin out in front of me by the shoulders with the thumb and middle finger of each hand. i decide it'd be best for me to drape it over my arm. if anyone asks i'll say it's his dry cleaning.
SEX IN DREAMS
Sex is a fickle little battle in dreams. the dream very quickly becomes what it's not about, by which i mean the subject i want it to be about (which most often times is sex.). this is quite unfortunate. When this happens, i am forced to wake up, go back to sleep and try again. When i do finally find a willing young man (sometimes there are no people in the dream and i am super horny...that or there are people, just no one sex worth) and we get busy, things may or may not go as i had planned. i regularly wake myself up by spending too much mental energy trying to improve the situation (upgrading his assets, changing the scenery). When it's great, something else in the real world wakes me up. That or it's just plain great. This is the ideal.
i am with a friend from elementary school, Stephen. He is pale and red haired. I associate him with ron from harry potter. We are in an old irish or english home. After doing some weird dream shit with floating candles, we are sitting at the base of an old wooden, creakedy staircase. at the top of the stairs the door opens to a kitchen where an overweight women is working.
"you know you are great. you are destined for greatness, there's no avoiding it. why don't your let people know? why won't you let yourself be." he says. i am sitting with my back to the top of the stairs. as he is explaining and asking i get tense and nervous. i start to cry. i do a paranoid back check, looking behind me up the stairs and into the kitchen. "because what i'm destined to be great at, people will want to hurt me for."
he looks at me with revelation in his eyes. "that's right. he had said tha..." a woodcarving tool comes shooting through the open door at the top of the stairs, hitting him dead center in the forehead. i leap to block it, but am too late. blood blends red with his hair and trickles over his blue eyes. i quickly 'bless' the other two people we are with and feel awful for not doing this sooner.
i wake myself up to avoid conflict. once awake, i consider going back to sleep and starting the dream just before the blade was thrown and to stop it so i could hear what he was going to say. I decide not to. no sense in putting yourself in a hostile situation. I am sick of bloody dreams.
(((((((earlier dream)))))))))
looking to sex an attractive white male who is down to sex me (no use on wasting my *mental energy* on someone who's going to be difficult). mark with green light. encounter too young of a someone. new criteria - 21+ - marked by blue light.
i find some dude, he is crossing the street with three girls. he is wearing a camel colored jacket. i whisper in his ear. he smiles and tells the girls he'll catch up with them in five minutes. oh great! that's not time at all. i get us in cab.
we share a cab with some strangers. end up in a hotel
i find a way to get a room for free
room 32.
we're going to the room. people from the cab are coming down the hall. my sex toy boy is starting to deflate. i try to hold him up straight as they pass so they won't be suspicious of us. soon he deflates all the way. i am holding a limp suit wearing skin out in front of me by the shoulders with the thumb and middle finger of each hand. i decide it'd be best for me to drape it over my arm. if anyone asks i'll say it's his dry cleaning.
SEX IN DREAMS
Sex is a fickle little battle in dreams. the dream very quickly becomes what it's not about, by which i mean the subject i want it to be about (which most often times is sex.). this is quite unfortunate. When this happens, i am forced to wake up, go back to sleep and try again. When i do finally find a willing young man (sometimes there are no people in the dream and i am super horny...that or there are people, just no one sex worth) and we get busy, things may or may not go as i had planned. i regularly wake myself up by spending too much mental energy trying to improve the situation (upgrading his assets, changing the scenery). When it's great, something else in the real world wakes me up. That or it's just plain great. This is the ideal.
Sunday, February 21, 2010
great surrealist tricks!
i am a great magician. really i'm just me.
my classmates are filming a movie.
they are covered in colorful, cheep silks.
i'm on the side watching. i make flowers shoot out of my hands to pass the time. it stings like stigmata. the wound in my hand grows and grows.
leigha asks me if i can make ants come out of my hand. i make gumdrops and 'a wee cone of cotton candy.' they appear out of thin air between my cupped hands. i hand each to her, then make ants come out from the center of my palm. great surrealist tricks!
a lot more happens in this dream, but its not so interesting to write. bad psychics and worse friends. my hands throb.
my classmates are filming a movie.
they are covered in colorful, cheep silks.
i'm on the side watching. i make flowers shoot out of my hands to pass the time. it stings like stigmata. the wound in my hand grows and grows.
leigha asks me if i can make ants come out of my hand. i make gumdrops and 'a wee cone of cotton candy.' they appear out of thin air between my cupped hands. i hand each to her, then make ants come out from the center of my palm. great surrealist tricks!
a lot more happens in this dream, but its not so interesting to write. bad psychics and worse friends. my hands throb.
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