Understand My Dreams basa"d

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So, I am normally good at helping people understand dreams, but this one I cannot decipher. My best guy friend had a dream that he was laying in bed with a girl that is now his best friend, "Kate", but was once (years ago) someone he was in a relationship with for a short period of time. They found out shortly after that they did not work well as lovers, but instead made good friends. Since then, he has had two girlfriend s that he has broken up with. He still has a deep respect for her as a friend, but the other feelings are no longer there. They still hangout often and spend time together though. He has since gotten with a new girl, and has been with her for a year now, "Ally". But anyway, he had a dream that he and "Kate" were laying in bed together and he rolled over to kiss her, but when he rolled over, "Kate" had turned into "Ally", and so he rolled back over, and turned around again, expecting that he was seeing things, but "Kate" had again turned into "Ally". Why was he dreaming of laying in bed with "Kate"? And why did "Kate" turn into "Ally"? Please help so I can help my friend! Thanks:)

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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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I fell asleep at roughly 11:15 on Monday, which was much later than usual. I am wondering if the odd dream I had was in any way attributed to the disruption of my sleeping patterns. Perhaps as I recall these dreams over time, I will be able to conjure up something resembling an answer. Every once in awhile, there will be something that makes me fall in love with the human mind all over again—dreams are one of those things. They are the pictures I wish I could see with my mind in a conscious state. First of all, I don’t remember the dream in its entirety, and the parts I do remember are fuzzy and difficult to recall in details great or small. Before going to bed, I remember feeling embarrassed because I had fudged the name of my favorite Dodos album. I like being right—not in the obnoxious way that makes me correct everyone all the time, but in the way that makes me feel silly when I make mistakes. Trudging forward, I had asked a friend, Kaveh, what his all-time favorite album was. I knew what it was the first time we were friends, but I wanted to see if time had changed his answer. In my days at Purdue, my favorite way to talk to someone new was to ask him or her about music. Naturally, one of our first conversations, and probably the only one that I remember so clearly, started with the same question on which our communication ended last night. Back then it was Beep Beep’s “Business Casual,” which, as it turns out, hasn’t changed. The funny thing about “all-time favorites,” is that I don’t think people understand that the “all-time” makes their response very important since this is, essentially, the end all be all of your favorite _____________. My mind is scattered, and so it is only appropriate that the writing of my thoughts follow suit. Back to my dream, though. As I mentioned, the details are quite difficult to recall. They enter into the visual part of my mind in little snippets, like in movies when there are flashbacks that are supposed to all of a sudden bring you to this great understanding. I have not reached this understanding yet. I remember the overall color of the dream was blue—it was almost like there was a blue neon sign outside the window of the room I called “bedroom.” I remember being aware that the apartment that I was in was one that I lived in previously, during my time at Purdue. The carpet was the same, I remember that much. The layout of the room, though, was entirely different. A much smaller version of where I once lived. My bed was near the window and it was raining. My blankets were like white, fluffy clouds. I like to think that it was the white pillowy down comforter I have always wanted. At least in my dreams I am comfortable. It was raining outside, which I enjoyed when I found upon coming back to reality that it actually was raining. In the dream it was raining big, full drops. The beads of water made a beautiful pattern on the window—I remember admiring them. I have always loved watching rain on windows. When I was little, I used to sit in the recliner by the window in our living room and pretend the drops of water were racing each other. I didn’t have many friends. That’s beside the point. I remember feeling like I was having a conversation with someone, but I was alone. The next sequence of events is most likely out of order. Maybe as I read over them upon completion I will notice what needs to be rearranged. I noticed that my phone lit up. This part, I think, was brought on by the fact that prior to actually falling asleep, I had texted someone and fell asleep before getting a response. In my dream, it was Kaveh (it was in the world of consciousness as well). It related vaguely to what we were talking about before I drifted off, but there was something unrelated to what we were discussing. I don’t remember what the extra part was, but I remember enjoying it. The details here are quite fuzzy, and at this point the dream skipped around a lot. Maybe I was drifting in and out of sleep; maybe my mind is telling me not to remember. I often times think that our rational minds are waging war with their emotional counterparts. At the dream’s conclusion, or really just the last part that I remember before waking up, it was still raining quite a bit—I think that it had picked up significantly. There was lightning, which made the room light up for fractions of a second. I couldn’t see very well because of the flashing light. I felt confused. There was someone in my bed, but I don’t know who it was. I gave them a hug before they ended up there—a friendly hug that makes me think it was someone I already knew. I can’t recall their face.

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