What's The Weirdest Dream You've Ever Had?
The question is prompted by my dream last night:
I dreamed I was playing basketball with some of the staff writers for The New Yorker against some of the staff writers for The National Review and I had the ball and James Surowiecki would not get open and it was making me very angry.
And then I woke up.
How about y'all?
I dreamed I was playing basketball with some of the staff writers for The New Yorker against some of the staff writers for The National Review and I had the ball and James Surowiecki would not get open and it was making me very angry.
And then I woke up.
How about y'all?
Comments
The Sweeper of Dreams by Neil Gaiman
"After all the dreaming is over, after you wake, and leave the world of madness and glory for the mundane day-lit daily grind, through the wreckage of your abandoned fancies walks the sweeper of dreams.
Who knows what he was when he was alive? Or if, for that matter, he ever was alive. He certainly will not answer your questions. The sweeper talks little, in his gruff gray voice, and when he does speak it is mostly about the weather and the prospects, victories and defeats of certain sports teams. He despises everyone who is not him.
Just as you wake he comes to you, and he sweeps up kingdoms and castles, and angels and owls, mountains and oceans. He sweeps up the lust and love and the lovers, the sages who are not butterflies, the flowers of meat, the running of deer and the sinking of the Lusitania. He sweeps up everything you left behind in your dreams, the life you wore, the eyes through which you gazed, the examination paper you were never able to find. One by one he sweeps them away: the sharp-toothed woman who sank her teeth into your face; the nuns in the woods; the dead arm that broke through the tepid water of the bath; the scarlet worms that crawled in your chest when you opened your shirt.
He will sweep it up-- everything you left behind when you woke. And then he will burn it, to leave the stage fresh for your dreams tomorrow.
Treat him well, if you see him. Be polite with him. Ask him no questions. Applaud his teams' victories, commiserate with him over their losses, agree with him about the weather. Give him the respect he feels he is due.
For there are people he no longer visits, the sweeper of dreams, with his hand-rolled cigarettes and his dragon tattoo.
You've seen them. They have mouths that twitch, and eyes that stare, and they babble and they mewl and they whimper. Some of them walk the cities in ragged clothes, their belongings under their arms. Others of their number are locked in the dark, in places where they can no longer harm themselves or others. They are not mad, or rather, the loss of their samity is the lesser of their problems. It is worse than madness. They will tell you, if you let them: they are the ones who live, each day, in the wreckage of their dreams.
And if the sweeper of dreams leaves you, he will never come back."
I woke up in real life just as I was punching my wife in the head.
I'm what you'd call a visual thinker, so usually my dreams are mostly just vivid images and sounds, rarely any actual dialog. About 50% are third person, and I'm usually aware that I'm dreaming. One particular good one involved being trapped on a space station full of vampires, and I needed some way to take care of the problem. Since I realized that I was dreaming, I was able to apply Matrix-esque techniques to quell the situation. Most of the time, my dreams are far less action-packed.
Originally posted by Splinemodel
My dreams are usually fantastic if I take some Benadryl or NyQuill. Drugs. . .
I'm what you'd call a visual thinker, so usually my dreams are mostly just vivid images and sounds, rarely any actual dialog. About 50% are third person, and I'm usually aware that I'm dreaming. One particular good one involved being trapped on a space station full of vampires, and I needed some way to take care of the problem. Since I realized that I was dreaming, I was able to apply Matrix-esque techniques to quell the situation. Most of the time, my dreams are far less action-packed.
It sounds like you are a "lucid dreamer" - evidently you can develop the skill into a full blown second life by writing a diary of your dreams every morning.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lucid_dreaming
[B]The question is prompted by my dream last night:
... James Surowiecki would not get open and it was making me very angry.
And then I woke up.
ha ha ha... that is funny. I use to dream about something one night, then the next night, the dream would pick up right where It ended the night before (like an ongoing story)... I thought that was always weird. Anyone else have that happen?
[B]
Originally posted by midwinter
The question is prompted by my dream last night:
... James Surowiecki would not get open and it was making me very angry.
And then I woke up.
ha ha ha... that is funny. I use to dream about something one night, then the next night, the dream would pick up right where It ended the night before (like an ongoing story)... I thought that was always weird. Anyone else have that happen?
That's happened to me before, both over a succession of nights and within one night (i.e. I'll wake up and go "damn! I wanted to finished that dream! Where was I? zzzzzzzzzzzz")
I should also mention that, as a kid, I had a dream that my friend and I were walking along and I would periodically reach over, pluck off a part of his head (which had become kind of like play-doh) and eat it. I kept doing this until I'd eaten him entirely.
Still disturbs me.
No kidding.
When I was a kid I'd have this one dream every now and then: In it are all these really small, but deep swimming pools. None were more than 5 or 6 feet on any side, but all of them were at least 10 or 12 feet deep. A park shelter house sat overhead of all of them. A bunch of us would just stand around waiting for some particular thing to happen. I don't remember what, but the group I was in couldn't start our activity until this thing occurred. Meanwhile, this old guy with an old, beat up Ford pickup would also be there outside of the shelter house. I understood him to be the caretaker of the facility. The dream would end with him standing there by his truck and all of us waiting to use the pools.
Any ideas on that one?
Originally posted by e1618978
It sounds like you are a "lucid dreamer" - evidently you can develop the skill into a full blown second life by writing a diary of your dreams every morning.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lucid_dreaming
I think I ask this question for the forum when I say, can it be used for sex?
Originally posted by Placebo
I think I ask this question for the forum when I say, can it be used for sex?
Absolutely! That's when dreaming is the best. Once you realize you're dreaming, you can take control of the dream.
Originally posted by dac0nvu
Absolutely! That's when dreaming is the best. Once you realize you're dreaming, you can take control of the dream.
I actually don't think I've ever had a sex dream, so I can't tell you how much control I'd have granted myself.
Small molecules (or perhaps plants) take over people around me... They behave and look like humans but are actually crystalline...
Originally posted by hardeeharhar
Last night:
Small molecules (or perhaps plants) take over people around me... They behave and look like humans but are actually crystalline...
Did Michael Crichton write your dream?
Originally posted by hardeeharhar
I hope not...
Indeed. If Michael Crichton DID write your dream, there would be some kind of incredible accident, perhaps involving a new kind of printing press, very tall monkeys, and the DNA of a pre-historic plant. LUCKILY, in your dream, the world's foremost expert on printing presses, very tall monkeys, and pre-historic botany would happen to be there and would save the day!