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Explore a collection of the latest dreams shared by our community. Discover common themes, intriguing narratives, and unique symbolism. From vivid adventures to thought-provoking scenarios, these recent dreams offer a glimpse into the subconscious mind and may even spark insights into your own dream world. Browse the "Latest Dreams" to find inspiration, connect with others, and delve deeper into the fascinating realm of dreams.

The cops came and my boyfriend was beating me up; punching me in the face over and over again, I had a swollen lip (blue and big bottom lip) He was crazy in the dream. My boyfriend drowned 2 cops in murky water. He put the cop suite on and become one of them, I ran and hid and he found me in an attic of a white and blue house. He beat me up and I ran, then he showed up at our apartment where we now live. My palms were bleeding and had pieces of medal. The neighbours on our street, were all there and he was too strong for anyone to stop getting him to come chase me.

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I walked into H’s classroom. I was wearing jeans, and a black sweater with a zip at the top. I walked across the front of the room and then to the back right corner. I thought I saw an open seat near Pig, but as I drew nearer I noticed an article of clothing on that seat. It was taken. I then went over to the back left corner of the room, and there I found a seat. It was near Bottle Cap Guy. I talked to him a bit, but about what I can’t recall. I had a black binder on the floor. Pig sat on that binder. I said timidly, "Pig, you're sitting on my binder. That's not good." I asked her to get off it. She obliged. Later, I left the room and headed down the hall to where the stairs are – the ones that lead down to the woodshop hall. They were much larger than they are in real life, and slightly curved. Pig was coming up those stairs toward me, holding a baby. The baby looked...pristine? Pig didn't pay me much attention as she passed. After Pig, I then had to wait for a class of little kids as they made their way up the middle of the stairs. There was another class waiting to go up, but I set off down the stairs before they started up. As I went down, I saw an old man struggling mightily along the rails to get up the stairs, about 10-15 steps from the top. I debated whether I should help him, and decided he would be fine, so I continued on. There was a teacher at the bottom next to the kids, looking at me strangely. Judging me, perhaps. At the bottom of the stairs, I found myself in a sort of "Dream" Vegas. I had a sunken feeling. I was so far from getting there, and it really sunk in then. I felt depressed as I meandered around this basement casino. I thought of what it would be like to do an interview about poker. "We" was a word I imagined using in the interview...Referring to "we poker players", probably. I thought about speaking strongly rather than timidly – of being a strong character rather than a weak and pathetic one.

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I was large, large like a god looking down on a small earth. I was looking over the ocean and I could see a man. He had fallen overboard his ship. The ship could not save him; they could not reach him with the massive waves that swept them away. There was a whale in the water; this wale did not want the man to be saved. The whale was swimming rapidly drowning the man and pushing the ship further and further away. He made the man helpless killing him slowly. I could not stand to watch this any longer. I reached down and scoped the man up in my hands, and at that point I panicked. He needed CPR or some sort of help that I could not provide being so much larger. I looked around me surrounded by others just as large. I was shouting for help franticly asking what can I do! I got the same response from everyone that there was nothing I could do and to put him out of his misery. I could not bear this answer there had to be something anything. As he lay in my hand helpless something amazing happened he began to cough! He stumbled to the tip of my finger trying to stand. No one had noticed this small miracle in my hand but I. then suddenly he was being yanked out of my grasp. I could not pull back it would kill him! I was screaming I cannot remember if any words came out though I attempted. I could feel his tiny hands griping my finger for his life. The way they slipped from my hand holding with every ounce of energy he had. But the force pulling was much stronger. It was a man a friend of mine who knew I could not do what everyone thought needed to be done. No one had seen the man get up; they all believed he was suffering. He did not listen to my screams of horror and in that one swift movement this tiny miracle was gone. I will always remember those tiny hands the way they slipped from mine.

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I live in a suburban neighborhood and there is a bike trail through the back, there are woods and a river you can walk back too, but so much unexplored area back there. I was back there by the river and my boyfriend came back there, but to get to me he had to drop down an embankment to reach me. He wanted me to go somewhere with him, but I told him no, that I was busy, climbed the embankment and left him there. The next thing I know Im waking up in my room and I see my mom and I ask her "where is Izzy?" (my boyfriend ). She told me he is dead. kinda see in my mind him surrounded by three guys with guns, in the woods where I last saw him. He ended up getting shot and left there, and an ambulance couldnt get to him in time. I instantly thought that if I had went with him or stayed that I couldve called the ambulance and saved him in time. but I wasnt and now he is gone. I could kinda picture him laying dead in a morgue somewhere but I wasnt allowed to go see him for some reason. I remember feeling lost and utterly alone and endless amounts of crying to where it hurt so bad (this dream felt extremely real). He is from miami and was for some reason living with me in MD. Next in my dreamt I checked the obituary, there was a full page for him and a picture of his family, but the picture was blown up so big and fuzzy and it made me sad that the quality was bad. Underneath it said his name , both date to date of death, and something his family wrote along the lines of "this will make our family stronger". His family wouldnt talk to me and I realized I would never see them again. I was surrounded with the feeling that I would never see him again or be with him again and it killed me and I wanted to die, I was screaming and crying to someone (Im not sure who it was, I couldnt see their face) saying "I was going to marry him! We were happy! We were going to be together forever! I love him!". The next thing I knew I was walking around Walmart with my boyfriend and no one could see him, I felt a little bit of happiness but was still sad, we walked by halloween costumes and I remember seeing a big pink rabbit costume. He said to me "are you happy?" and I told him "not really" and he said" well I dont know Ashleigh, this is the best I can do" and I was so overwhelmed with a feeling of being forever alone and missing him so bad and wanting him so bad. It was one of the realest feeling dreams I have ever had.

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Ballsiest,Last week, is the first thing you notice about it. but it might be possible overseas when you have first dibs on hot new companies in countries with fledging capital markets. Florida on Aug. along with other tasty offerings from Narragansett." strays into purple prose and strained analogies But the premise is strong the work appealing and the juxtapositions telling Particularly impressive is the success with which the curators elucidate the "no" the work that failed to meet the artists standards In most cases the artist would hide this but Close has allowed some of his rejected work to be seen in multiple iterations which is fascinatingAnd it is Close who emerges as the most provocative of the three major artists represented Closes work has long focused on the dispassionate geography of the human face the surface data of unsentimental portraiture At Crown Point he has experimented with particularly difficult technical challenges the creation of a large-scale mezzotint from a black-and-white head shot of a man named "Keith" and the use of woodblock printing to replicate a watercolor of a woman named "Leslie" Closes wife at the time In another project based on a self-portrait he attempts to collage together different images that represent stages in the three-color separation process of printingIn his painted work Close has meticulously built up photo-realist images by layering red blue and then yellow until a fully colored work emerges thus replicating the separation process of color printing In some of his printed work he attempts to highlight the wonderful absurdity and virtuosity of this meticulous process of photo-realist painting allowing the various stages of color separation to commingle with patches of red blue and purple or a collaged and lurid riot of different prints that bring brilliant yellows and greens and blues into painful proximity we will be the first to call for a full restoration of U. We should move urgently to deepen our engagement with the Egyptian people on this basis.“I’m not good at math,an IRS official being bad at math! —and wound up punctuating what was a torturous response to the A skeptical press corps peppered Lerner with questions many of which she and her staff were unable or unwilling to answerA sampling:1 IRS officials claimed that there was no political bias behind the targeting of these conservative groups but they failed to produce any examples of similar targeting of groups with non-conservative-sounding names Initially they suggested that other non-conservative-sounding names might have been targeted By the end of the call though Lerner acknowledged: “I only said that because I never like to say ‘absolutely not’ I don’t have any information on that”2 Lerner wouldn’t say whether anyone is being disciplined then appeared to say there was no disciplinary action then went back to saying she wouldn’t comment Federal personnel rules appear to prohibit Lerner from discussing discipline so she has some justification for not commenting But that justification was never explained and instead she was pressed repeatedly on why she wouldn’t discuss discipline3 Lerner said she disclosed the information because someone asked her about it Friday morning —indicating that she had no plans to release the information publicly despite the confirmed wrongdoing4 When asked how they found out about the wrongdoing Lerner said the investigation stemmed from media reports about conservative groups claiming that they were targeted not from any internal review5 Lerner and her staff tried to get off the phone call after less than half an hour of questioning but Columbia Journalism Review reporter (and Pulitzer Prize winner) David Cay Johnston informed them that they had better stay and answer everyone’s questions They stayed on the call for another 20 minutes By the end they said Lerner had to get to some appointments and cited the “repetitive” line of questioning Johnston informed them that it was because they weren’t answering the questionsKaren Tumulty contributed to this post It doesn’t take the most nuanced or careful view of a country with one of the world’s highest-geared propaganda machines, it is fascinating to have this glimpse inside the hermit kingdom, where the RNC hopes to swing just enough votes to tip those states in Mitt Romneys electoral vote column.

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