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Dreams fatigue

Found 8 dreams containing fatigue


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I have this reoccurring dream that happens quite often since I was in grade school, It takes place in my mom’s home is McNary, Arizona. I wake up within my dream in my bed at my mom’s house, everything is dark but looking out the window the sky is orange (this is usually the color of the sky after it snows at night). I walk down the hall feeling very uneasy, I can see that no one is home. I go to the closet grab a jacket and step outside. My dogs are gone and my friend is standing at the end of the pathway outside our gate, saying, “Shannon we have to go, they are coming.” I don’t say anything. I just run off the porch and get to the end of the pathway and she is gone. I start heading down her house. The place is heavily filled with pine trees and snow, with red splatters here and there. I can feel the fatigue in my lungs from breathing the cold air so I stop. But I here the crunching of the snow beneath someone’s feet, at this point I feel so much fear my heart is racing. But my instinct is to turn around when I do there is a hooded person with its eyes glowing red. I’m frozen I can’t move, I can feel my heartbeat in my head forcing the blood back to my face. I turn to run, but there is another red-eye person there. It slams me to the ground and sits on top of me pinning me, and the other person pinning my arms above my head. It pulls out a gun, cocks it and I beg squirming around and crying. “Sit still” the voice of a male softy says. I relax knowing my fate; he kisses my forehead and then my lips. Placing his hand on my chest and placed the gun between his fingers and pulls the trigger 3 times. I can feel the pain, I yell in my head “Wake up! Wake up!” and I do. My heart is pounding hard and I’m sweating.

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I had a vivid early morning dream. At times, my view would zoom in close; other times, I saw from a wide, top-down perspective—like watching a strategic operation unfold from above. The dream began with a striking view of a group of elite, specialized soldiers—about 5 to 8 of them. They were a highly trained unit, personally chosen by their Commander-in-Chief. Their loyalty, discipline, and unwavering commitment to their mission were unmistakable. They had fought together through many hard-won battles and had developed a deep bond rooted in honor and trust. They were running across a wide, open war field, leaving behind a battleground they had just conquered. It was clear that this unit had taken much ground together over time. Though the war still raged around them, they moved with urgency and perfect formation. Scene 2: The Storm and the Fence Then the terrain shifted. Heavy rain poured in sheets from the sky, making visibility low. The ground turned into thick, slippery mud. Despite the storm, the unit stayed in harmony, never breaking stride. Eventually, they came to a gray chain-link fence—standing strangely alone in the open landscape. It clearly marked the next phase of their mission, and they were under direct orders to reach it. Their gear was soaked, their fatigues caked in mud. At the base of the fence, centered like a marker, were two shovels—placed intentionally, as if by command. Without pause, they began to dig under the fence. Each man took a turn, one digging until spent, then handing off to the next. Their goal was precise: create openings wide enough for two soldiers to slide beneath and press ahead toward a large white building visible on the other side. Scene 3: The Waiting Soldiers Once the holes were ready, two were chosen to go. They slid under the fence and ran toward the building while the others waited, huddled near the opening, still alert and battle-ready. It was then that I was shown something deeper. Each soldier in this unit carried a unique calling and specialized skill. One might be an expert in communication, another in field medicine, another in navigation or demolitions, another in intelligence or surveillance. No single soldier had it all—but together, they formed a force capable of extraordinary things. Every gift, every assignment mattered. They were more than warriors; they were a finely tuned body in motion. Scene 4: Inside the Building Inside the white building, the two soldiers were now clean and dry, standing side by side at a window. They sipped something warm—maybe tea or cocoa. Their demeanor had shifted. While their teammates remained outside in the storm, these two were at ease. Calm. Comfortable. They had forgotten the mission. Forgotten the others. Forgotten the urgency. They were half-hearted. This building had been chosen beforehand as a transitional space—a place to regroup, refocus, and prepare for the next advance. The two inside were never meant to stay. They were to make a way for the rest to move forward and get in the building. But they had grown content and detached. Scene 5: The Greater Assignment The final scene zoomed out beyond the white building. What I saw was a vast, wide-open territory still waiting to be taken. The mission wasn’t over. The building was just a checkpoint. The half-heartedness of the two risked compromising not only their comrades, but the fulfillment of a much greater Kingdom-level assignment.

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Je suis dans une maison. C’est celle de Marie-Pierre mais dans mon rêve, c’est la maison nous nous habitons avec maman et les autres. Nous sommes assis par terre devant le canapé avec Alois, peut être aussi Oriane qui n’est pas loin. Parc contre c’est le salon de Teverga. Je crois que nous ne sommes pas d’accord sur le film que nous désirons voir toute les deux avec Alois. Oriane ne prend pas partie il me semble (si elle est là) elle fait autre chose . Sensation d’énervement, de fatigue, de lourdeur lié à la paresse d’être resté longtemps à ne rien faire il me semble. Ce que reproche Pascal qui arrive, il est énervé, il faut mettre la table, faire à manger.. Je me lève, je ne suis pas fière de notre état de léthargie, je m’aperçois qu’il n’y a presque aucun meuble, le salon est grand, blanc, il me semble qu’il y a des bâches en plastiques transparent tendues sur le mur du fond, derrière le canapé de Teverga, (sur lequel je suis endormie dans la réalité) ce lieu me fais penser a chez tatie Mylene, un grand espace blanc peu meublé et pas décoré. Je me dirige dans la cuisine pour aider, faire quelque chose, en tournant dans un couloir (vide encore) d’un vert étrange, un peu écaillé, unvert Smaragdin,qui est lié à la maison de Marie-Pierre, en fait je pense que le vert de mon rêve est une version plus claire de la moquette en plastique qui recouvre le sol du salon de cette maison, et qui d’ailleur a été en parti abîmé par le feu d’une cheminé. (dans mon rêve, le revêtement du mur était aussi endommagé). J’arrive à la cuisine, (c’est la cuisine de Marie-Pierre) il me semble qu’il y a moins de meubles à mesure que j’avance dans mon rêve- dans la cuisine Pascal est énervé, je m’empresse de mettre la table, avec un sourire affable mais faible,(ici, je ressens un sentiment de honte vague quant à mon comportement, le même que je ressens quand Sylvie me reproche une chose et qu’elle a raison) je vais chercher les couverts (fourchette et couteau) au fond d’une armoire de basse qualité, avec des portes en verres, en fait qui est celle du salon de Teverga où l’on range les verres mais en plus vétuste. Dès que j’ai la tête dans l’armoire je sens une grimace me tordre le visage, je veux pleurer mais aucune larme ne vient. Première pensé : « tu ne vas pas pleurer, tu t’étais dit que tu ne pleurerait plus maintenant »

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