Literally how I found out I was bisexual. I woke up and I was like damn that was good wish it wasn’t just a dream tho. And then I realised what I just thought to myself, needless to say I was super scared and very confused. And @Leathelion it was actually about my math teacher so you are not alone!
I’ve really weird dream maybe one year ago…
I was walking in my house (on 1st floor) and then suddenly an aeroplane fly to my direction at its maximum speed and dive into the gallery (from where ground floor can be seen, you can assume 13x13 feet square deep empty space) so in there that aeroplane dive and goes to the sky like it was skating one after another… I got amazed and confused in my dream
I had a dream that I was a dog and I was in love with a cat.
And there was some voice talking like in stories ya know: “And this is me, Rilley. I have a big family and the best owner in the world…”
I don’t really remember any of my dreams. But one I had that I do remember was quite weird. I dreamt that there was this door in my house and it was always locked. One day I thought I heard something moving in there and asked my mum what it was and she said it was nothing. I eventually broke into the room and my mum had been hiding my own twin from me!
Good to know but literally there was no dream that it didn’t include her
BAHAH NOOO rip
That’s weird and also scary… Like → Why??? Did your twin never went out of the house???
I had a weird and confusing dream few years ago… I was in a huge house, around 19th century… I was a servant of a rich family, but I fell in love with the rich son. Don’t ask me why, but suddenly me and the guy (my lover → I never saw him in real life…) were somewhere else in the forest… And he k*lled someone else with a huge boulder…
Then I woke up.
Another confusing dream few years ago… I visited my aunt and I heard my mom say 'We have a surprise for you. Now there is someone who is smaller than you…" I saw my aunt coming in without a torso only her head hands and feet…
So, over all I have weird dreams… But after those dreams I had never one again…
The Charli part got me
Lmao the aunt one was funny
It definitely was…
The dreams I remember generally stem from my own issues, but alright. The one that’s most vividly remembered was… Surprisingly long! I’ll try and give it a story-like spin, but I’m afraid I’m not the most skilled fantasy writer. Also, warning, it might be a bit grotesque at times, though I’ve decided to not go in detail on that. Just remember, it is a nightmare.
Within a world long gone, in a time where weapons were primitive, where rulers reigned as one, sovereign force, and where war were waged as oft as women change clothes… Within this hostile, wild world stood little I by myself, living within my village, tending to my son like any proud mother.
The young child had dreams of great grandeur; cross the Valley, march up to the tyrannical king and slay both him and his court of lying, scheming aristocrats. I watch over my child, snickering lightly to his whimsical proclamations; I still could not shake the feeling that something was to happen. Something terrible. So my watch was vigilant, to guard him from whatever threat I could or could not discern.
Years went by, and my son grew up to become a good man and husband to his wife. Somehow I remained the same age, eternally 21! His stature was that of a proper militia man; tall, broad shouldered, the frown that hides his thoughts, and as if he was constantly on his guard. Truthfully, I was too; the omen of apocalyptic proportions still spoke to my mind, still whispered the fatal end that was to come. It did simply not reveal what that premonition was to be; just a lingering, thin thread that all of us villagers trutted upon. By now, the elders had already began to call me a mad woman, one inflicted with a broken psyche; only my son could share in this ominous sensation.
The fires of rebellion swept across the realm, and villages all over were put to flame. Militiamen, defected soldiers and farmers all picked up blades and pikes to protect their own lands; peril and strife oft followed, a waft of death ravaged the lands. My son had risen in the ranks of the rebellion, risen to a state of high leadership; by extension, so did I, as he lent his ear to my advice. And under his guidance, the flames of war turned; the ghastly smoke shifted, reached closer and closer to the capital. The streets of the large cities crowded with people sharing the very same desire, the promise of freedom, liberty and safety; to crush the noblemen and royalty stomping upon the lesser man and woman.
By now, the merry band of rebels had been refined into a battle-hardened, disciplined military unit, capable of overcoming even the most elite armies that the King could present. Battle after battle ended in victory for the rebels, and my child grew further in the ranks; second-hand man to the leader by the time the liberty army stood outside of the capital.
I did not feel the omen’s darkness that day, and knew the time was not yet to come. Plagued by the indecisiveness of whatever divine trying to influence me; quite simply, tortured by it, I still stood by my son. I may be no warrior, nor tactician, nor a leader, but as a devoted mother… I offered advice on how to minimize the pain of loss amongst our troops. To lessen the burden of command, to reduce the costs of war. And my advice, I offered.
The day of the final battle was upon us, and it was a rainy, clouded day. The occasional crack of thunder echoed through the otherwise solemn battleground; otherwise nothing but the sound of falling pellets landing upon steel and armor, as well as the frozen trembles of our common soldier, could be heard. But our leader was missing.
I consulted with my son if he had any idea, but he said no. It was then we saw the macabre sight of his demise at the center of the battlefield; I choose to not describe the image, but it was horrifying. A wave of dread settled within the army; uncertainty, fear, yes even defeat was seen in the eyes of the army. But before I could say a word, my son mounted up and stepped forth.
He took command. He delivered a speech. He rightfully proved his leadership, and my pride was palpable.
The battle ended in a decisive victory. With nowhere to run, the King was tossed to the Wolves that was the rebels, and vengeance was brought. The dynasty had ended… And a new one was to arise. My son, pronounced King by both friend and foe, picked up the crown and rode to the royal palace. The fanfare echoed, the cheers filled the air, the drunken joy ravaged the city like a plague; a disease that forced you into dance and delight. Yes, freedom. True freedom.
The years passed, and my son’s rule was wise, fair and just. The people lived prosperously, the wealth of harvest and trade filled the coffers of any opportunity seeker, and the difference between rich and poor shrunk. Yes, you could say happiness had settled in the common man’s mind.
Not my mind though. My premonition had yet to take form, and my doubts ravaged me. Tortured me every passing day. None but my son could see this internal war, and I was unable to enjoy the fruits of our liberty. Caught within my own mind, trying to quench this infernal omen. Had I gone mad? Was I a threat to myself?
My son called all advisors to meet within an old fort, known to be the first of the realm. I came later, as the snowy passages was not fit for someone like me to traverse; I refused any royal help, and no carriage should take me there. Instead, I clambered through snow up to my chest, waddling through the freezing terrain by myself. It was best that way, I figured. I was mad, after all. This is the punishment for my own foolishness; to even consider this voice within my mind to be anything but that. A voice.
I finally arrived to the gates of the rundown fort. Light flickered through the holes in the wall, casting rays of light onto the snow outside. Stepping in through the door and into the dimlit halls, I noted a strange serenity and calmness. That was not befit that of a royal meeting at all; the carriages and horses of the other advisors was still outside as well. How curious! I move further and further until I reach the room we so many had times had convened before, and with a light push of the door I could enter.
The sight terrified me. Bodies scattered around, dead. And it was obvious they’d been dead a few days as well; without describing it, it was macabre.
But I didn’t see my son. Calling out, I tried to see if he had hid somewhere. Then calm footsteps echoed, tripping through the halls, before the doors swung up. I turned in shock to see him, covered in blood. His expression was impassive, his demeanor nothing of the proud child of mine.
“What happened here!?” I cried out. His empty gaze rolled up to meet mine.
“I killed them. They were planning to betray me. I had to kill them, Mother.” His voice, empty and soulless; nothing akin to that of the bouldering voice of the man I had raised. I could only stare wide-eyed upon him, confused and distraught.
“Your premonition, Mother. It was right. Heheh. It was right, Mother! Doom was to come! But worry not, Mother. Don’t worry at all! I saved us.”
The hairs upon my back raised, and goosebumps covered my skin. Chills ran through my spine as I gazed upon this boney hulk. I had indeed been right. The omen had finally revealed itself.
“Mother, why do you look so afraid? Oh, but Mother, why would you raise a knife to me, your son?” I realized it was futile, but it was all I could do. Doom had come, and it had consumed my dear boy.
“Look at me. Look at me! I’ve saved this land! And I will liberate more… More… Save more…”
Did my eyes betray me? A ray of light shot out of his face, followed by another, then one more… Then his face cracked open, and… melted. Underneath, a mask of gold, mouth curved into dissatisfaction with long, razor sharp jaws. Eyes burning with hellish fury, the putrid green surrounded by soulless gold. His forehead, a pair of horns rose to the sky.
“So you betrayed me as well, Mother.” He spoke, before driving a sharp object into my stomach.
And then I woke up, in cold sweat.
When I was studying for my certification as an ELT teacher, I do remember dreaming about my instructor, and she was so mean in the dream that I woke up feeling scared of her.
But here’s a dream I had an hour ago while I was taking a nap:
Weird random dream
Some of my neighbors actually got Post Malone to come to one of our neighborhood parties, but not to perform, just to hang out. So I was all excited to hang out with him, but he was so unfriendly! Basically, he kept making negative remarks, disagreeing with what everyone said, and he seemed not to like my personality at all, because he wouldn’t acknowledge anything I said. Then, he just left without saying ‘bye’ or anything, and I thought it was because he found me annoying and too innocent, or something. So I told one of the neighbors, and he said, "Yeah, he has too many unpopular opinions, and last time when he came, he got offended because almost everyone except for him were couples. (Like they all had a romantic partner).
And when I woke up, I was like… “Wait, what language were we even speaking in the dream?” Because we all speak Spanish (since we’re from a Spanish speaking country), but I don’t think PM speaks Spanish. So how did he even communicate with us? Were we all speaking English?
Let’s hope he isn’t stalking the forums