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Dreams ritual

Found 180 dreams containing ritual - Page 13


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I dreamed I was in a mansion with other people, though I don't remember knowing who they were. It was a nice and gothic mansion, though someone walked into a bedroom I was in and told me he was going to cut my head off. I acted as if this was normal and laid on the bed. He took sheep shears out, and before he did it I asked him if it would hurt. He said no, so I let him cut my head off. He did it incredibly slowly, but I felt no pain. I just thought how interesting it was that I still had cognitive thought - I wondered when my brain and spinal cord would finally disconnect. And when they did, my thoughts still fluttered for a bit; I think I died with my eyes open. Then I became a ghost, and I helped the other people in the mansion pass as the man cut their heads off. Everything was done like a ritual. I remember trying to hide a child in the end. I guess I felt she should be spared.

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We are what looks like John and my old house. John isn’t there. It’s dark, there is always spiritual activity here. I have grown accustomed to hearing and feeling it, but I don’t enjoy it. I feel threatened here, and often that the spirits are trying to kill me. Katie and I are sleeping together in an unfamiliar kitchen, on a table. Pulses of energy start to transcend from the walls towards the other side of the house. She is scared, so I hold her hand and tell her that I have done this before, that I know what this is, and that I will keep her safe. There is a dishwasher underneath us that keeps shutting off. I have to manually press buttons until it goes again. This feels important to me. Katie asks me often what is happening, and why. She tries to blame the wind. I keep looking up at these slitted windowless cut-throughs at the top of the wall. They appear to be letting air in, but I know that's not why the house underneath us is shaking. We hold on, and I help her get through it. Cut to my Mom’s house. We are talking about the ghosts. I throw eggs on the floor, and so does she. All of them break open, and some of them are spoiled as they hit the floor. She cleans them up, but there is always still residue. I try to help clean it up better. We are sitting at some sort of Pep Assembly. Top Gear (Britain) host starts talking, donating money to an organization. He donates a particular amount, and then does a double take, acting like he is going to give them more. Instead, he jests about giving the second amount to “Jesus Christ.” Nick, my sisters and I all snort at this, I seem to be filming the event. We can hear murmurs of people agreeing, when someone gets my attention. An old school teacher who was religious speaks up and asks if we should have ‘the talk.’ I look down and tell her no. She sits back, and my Mom appears, telling me that she wishes I would let “Jesus Christ” into my life. I coldly disagree with her. Cut to her house. We continue to have the argument, and she claims she wants me closer, and that ‘god’ will make me stay close to her. I disagree, but don’t mention anything about agreeing to stay close. I tell her that John’s mom has a way of making him stay close to her.

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