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Dreams oden

Found 284 dreams containing oden - Page 22


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 dream starts in third person. A woman named LP and a man named House walk into a court room and sit down behind a woman. House has breathing tubes in his nose. The woman turns around and says, "I didn't know you were an executioner too, LP." LP grins. The Judge walks in and takes the stand. LP is escorted to a wooden box with glass surrounding the top half. Almost like those robotic psychics you can insert a quarter in and get "your cards read". The judge smirks and says, "How are you gonna kill me from there?" LP says, "I use the glass." She shakes from the inside of the box until it falls over on it's side and the glass shatters. She grabs chunks of glass and throws them at the judge who falls from the stand. The dream switchs to first person. I am the security guard standing in the corner. LP marches over to the judge and I. We are cornered. She picks up more glass and drags it down our arms. We have matching gashes running down our forearms. I'm screaming. LP grabs a gasoline tank from somewhere and says, "When I pour this on the glass, it's gonna blow up." I jump out of the corner just as she finishes dumping gasoline on the glass and sets it on fire. The judge screams. And burns.

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Dreamed I was walking to the end of a road, exhausted. The sky was gray and overcast, and I could hear the sea nearby, though I could not see it. At the road's end was a slight rise and a stone fence with a gate. When I reached the gate, at the top of that rise, the sky lifted. Inside the gate was a house, and a lawn of the kind of impossibly bright green you only see when the light comes out after a storm. The house was old, dark stone, well-built and close-fitted, with a slate roof, wooden trim that might have been brown, or perhaps just soaked from the storm. The door was open, someone standing in the doorway, facing away from me. I opened the gate and stepped onto the gravel path from gate to door, and I could see the figure well enough to see it was a woman in a red dress, wearing a straw hat, but not well enough to tell who it was, just that my exhaustion dropped away and I began to run up the path. As I got closer, the figure in the doorway turned. It was you, and if the clouds had lifted at the gate, when you smiled the sun came out.

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I am sitting in my second period classroom in a different seat than I usually do. A different teacher is also talking to the class, sitting on a familiar wooden stool. She isn’t teaching, she is just making conversation. Everyone is packed up and I get the sense that we are waiting for a call to let us go. I check the clock and it is about eleven am. The class keeps talking and I become impatient. When my teacher finally dismisses us, I turn around and notice it is 3:00 pm! I’m confused on why we have stayed in one class for four hours. The dream suddenly changes to a warm, candlelit dining room. The walls are light colored and the chairs dark wood. There’s even a tablecloth with set crystal glasses. I’m sitting next to my brother and sister, who for some reason are now Caucasian. My father is Dennis Quaid and he is warning us to be nice. Somehow I already know that the mother in my dream has died months ago and my father is just now finding a new woman, and she is coming over for dinner. My white brother and sister are sullen, but I am welcoming. She rings the doorbell and my father dashes up to open the door. My father’s prospective girlfriend , tall and blond, walks in and is seated my father. My brother and sister say hello reproachfully and I smile warmly and introduce myself. We are making awkward conversation when a letter is delivered for my father. He opens it and it is written by someone who has his exact same handwriting. It’s signed in by his name, with blood dried onto the signature. My father says that it threatens us to leave the house and nothing bad will happen. It’s strange because the letter is written to my father, from my father, and dated in the future. I wake up.

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