Recent dreams containing priest page 2

Nightmares about the priest again

In my dream I was assisting the High Priest during the Samhain rituals. We had already drawn the first set of veves in blood and were preparing to draw the sacred pentagram in semen when one of the sacrificial offerings got free from his bonds and tried to escape. We had to stop the semen collection process and run after him and it ruined the timing of everything.

Hamsters ready in lubricated tubes. The congregation bent over and spread. Just as the priest is ready to begin the ceremony we are raided by PETA and everyone runs with their pants around ankles. Hamsters loose underfoot. Really scary.

I dreamt we were at church preparing for the ceremony. We were all naked and smearing coconut oil on each other. The priest stepped to the altar and put the goat head on his head and picked up his staff and we were all excited and lubricated and fully expectant but then somebody pulled the fire alarm and we all had to evacuate the church out into the cold rain and it was sad.

I was in confession and the priest tried to get me to tell him dirty stories while he pleasured himself and I said that was wrong and he said G-d said it was okay

We were at church doing the sacred marriage ceremony on the altar when the high priest noticed christians peeping in window and shouted at us to hide before we were spotted. I was so scared the christians would find us and ran away but slipped in our blood pentagram and fell and they caught me

I dreamed of kissing a priest hand and on his finger he had a BIG solid ring he was sitting in a chair and I was on bended knees. It was a happy moment for me.

I dreamt of a priest (who is deceased) ask for parsley from my garden but didn't take it. It was sunny daytime and a nice happy dream.

Mangalsutra kept slipping from priests hands before tying knot

On the first day, I'm walking along narrow path and I come to pass a Mosque where an Imam startles me. He intercepts me, placing his hand on my left shoulder. He impales my shoulder joint with his Tallon and gestures to the Qur'an he is holding. He asks me with hostility: "would you like to hear it in English or Arabic?" To which I answer: "neither" as I free myself from his grip and continue walking briskly. I sense that my audacity has angered him. I look back to gauge my safety and I see the Imam colluding with another person, talking secretly and pointing me out. This other person seems to take instruction and proceeds to follow me. I periodically look back to stay ahead and the person has morphed into the dress of a Catholic priest while having gained some ground on me. I look again and now he is a Presbyterian minister and stalking me like prey. Next glance he is Rabbi and chasing me. Every time I look back the person adorned a different religious attire, many of which were familiar from various Christian denominations I would ordinarily feel comfortable and friendly towards. I manage to stay ahead of the pursuing adversary. The next day I am walking along the same path and approaching the Mosque. I notice that the Mosque looks more like a cathedral and there are no distinguishable features that tell me it is a mosque, however there is no doubt in my mind that it is a Mosque. I become weary that I am nearly at the spot where the Imam cornered me the day earlier, so I look ahead and walk to the edge of the path in hopes to avoid him. Out of nowhere, he intercepts me and impales between my bones with his claw once again. "English or Arabic?" He hisses, as he begins pulling me towards the mosque. "Neither!" I say, as I painfully rip my flesh to get free. Again I briskly walk and am pursued by a shapeshifter. The third and final day I am walking along the narrow path. I have come to expect confrontation as a permanent obstacle. I consider crossing the road to avoid the ordeal, which would be out of my way and slow me down. Then I think to myself "why should I". Why should I make an alteration to my life and routine for such evil? Instead I march fearlessly towards the usual spot. Sure enough, he jumps out hoping to scare me, but I was expecting him. But before he can insert his claw, like a true martyr I offer my shoulder to him with arrogance and willingness to suffer the pain. This robbes him of much satisfaction as latches on. "Which will it be, English or Arabic?" He asks with malice. I look straight into his black eyes and calmly say "of that book I will hear neither, nor any other tongue".