Understand My Dreams basa"d

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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.

It was raining outside as I was looking out of my new apartment window. I was in a big, brand new apartment with a great view. My friends who are all musicians came over to ask me to perform but I could not perform. There were possums outside gnawing at the trees. My friends became upset with me that I was sick and could not perform. I looked around my apartment and there were dead possums on the ground, just two dead possums. I was afraid of them and stood on the chair as to get away from them. Then I was in my bed and my roommates dog came up to me and licked my face. I kept dreaming that I would wake up but I did not.

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I have had this dream before but not in years. I was being chased by these people who were family but I think they were vampires. My mom and brother were captured but my sister, who did not look anything like my sister, had already been turned and had to chase me. There was something special about me that they needed apparently. I could fight, but not very well, so I ran. Oh and everyone in my family did not look like my actual family. But my vampire sister chased me around what looked like a New York style of Coralville. At some point I found my dad, who apparently I have not seen in forever, and he had a car and let me drive it. My friends called me while driving and were saying my dad's cars are always the best. And then we got home which was one bedroom only and that was it. That was the house. That one room. It was cluttered with old stuff of mine and my dads stuff. My sister found me, dad disappeared, and I ran again. I went in a circle and hid under the bed. There were 2 or 3 other people there who were my friends and tried to confuse my sister, which worked for a little bit. But then found me and I found an old song that I had written that my dad had kept. It had interesting metaphors. I read it and my sister started to cry. And I realized something. My dad came in, saw the song which he had constructed something that when you looked at it, the objects made the lyrics. And he started to sing it, but in this evil like, angry voice. And I told him that it made my sister cry and I realized he was behind it all, and my sister came onto my side.

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Having suspected a spy following Krsto, our two lovers arrived and left the public park separately. Zsusanna was there to see Krsto more than the play. It was a very humorous play. One of the actors, Romero, plays a man with a bushy beard and stood there holding his hand in triumph as people laughed. Zsusanna realized she knew so few people in that area. She had only Krsto’s circle of friends: a man in in very stylish suede boots, a woman whose voice narrated the story; a woman whose only voice was the melodic tunes of her lyre, and a bewitching siren, Krsto’s cousin. Bewitched by her lover behind stage, she also did not know that she, indeed, was being watched, or that he had caught a glimpse of someone stirring on the sides. Igor wore common clothing to blend with the townspeople, with a hat tilted to a side, and a patch to cover an eye. He hadn’t shaven in over a week to play the part as well. Jealous of Zsusanna’s presence in Edour’s life had become a hinderance for Istven’s aspiring role in the Protestant Reform, and in the next generation’s attempt to rebuild a country free of foreign rule. More so, he was wary of this woman who appeared from an outer circle, who was as equally educated, if not, more so than himself. What was an extraordinary woman doing being wed to a man who had no interest in women? More so, why did Jankovic agree to this farce? “Ugggggg,” as twisted pain seeped through his blood, and the sound of breaking bones, Igor could feel the point of a dagger piercing into the hairs of his neck. “I suggest you take your traitor self back to the Hungarian shit that spawned you. Get off this peninsula, and never show your face again.” “I am free to…” “You are not free to do anything.” and the crunch of a twisted wrist sent him off as two burly men in dark capes took him into a carriage, riding away, as Zsusanna felt desire dripping beneath her skirts. Istven had the scent of Ocean air about him; clean and light. He sat eating nuts and apricots as lightening lit the sky and the rumble of thunder approached. In his presence I am a ship battling a storm, wandering aimlessly. Sex is not okay with Istven. He has confusion around relationships. “What happened to you,” Zhusanna asked as she spotted Igor curdled in a chair by the window, unable to hold a book or turn its pages with bandaged hand and fingers on both sides. It was all he could do but spit at her. Marija found the encouragement to break the silence. “He no doubt wondered where he shouldn’t.” “I trust my cousin played the searing siren to perfection?” “The Adriatic would be, indeed, pleased!” “As your grandfather, as well.” Igor mentions to Zsusanna who looked bewildered at him. “Any sea-faring pirate of Senj would defend such a treasure!” Zsusanna mocked back, “But you wouldn’t know of such lust, Igor.” A bit of tension was building in the room. Zsusanna was not oblivious of Marija’s eye for Istven. She would just happen to appear outside his door in Reijeka or at the piazza, always appropriately placed five feet behind brother Antun or conniving Igor. Antun had studied law at university with Igor and Istven, together, in Austria. Marija was a woman, devious and determined, to get what she wanted. What she wanted was entitlement and Istven was the source for this wanna-a-be. Her dear husband Zoran, an unlucky man once the vows of marriage bound them, sweet, giving, and oblivious to the Upper Hungarian dragons, claiming loss to the Frankopan fortunes when ….was slain with my uncle and grandfather. One of thousands of noble widows dispersed without claims depending on beguiling ways of sanctity. 1693 carriage scene 2 hrs 1693 krsto and who he is 1693 Zsuzana AND ISTVEN BEGIN AFFAIR 1693 MARI POISONS HUSBAND ZORON SAVROVIC, AGE 31, 1693 TRUTH REVEALED KRSTO

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1697 - There is a feeling blackness and desolation where once productivity and sense of community took place. “When I arrived, windows were closed up; tapestries covering windows. You could tell there was pillaging and evacuation with the arrival of this new emerging power. Where when I arrived, it was flourishing. The thick walled gates have been damaged. When it once smelled earthy, now is stench and filth. Now it is just a castle in the middle of nowhere with occasional lost chicken or animals running loose. 1697 KRK – ah, a stoney sectional-multi level house surrounded by cypress and pale yellow roses. The cliff drops off to one side, sloping down into the water. Deep blue water. The furniture here is not as thick and woodsy as (Lika castle) but more primitive of animal skin. There is a window that looks out into the water. Sun shines through it! Terraces looking out over cliffs. There is a small kitchen, where of, course, I love to spend time. Herbs grow in windows, and bouganvilla in pots. I don’t really feel cold, but love the smell of wood burning in a stove. When we arrived, walls were cracked and there were no potted plants of color. There is a little notch of a private cove were we dock a wooden boat. Sometimes at night, we would take a lantern and fish for silver fish. They are drawn to the light. We keep a mule for carrying provisions up. A goat. Some chickens, some pigs. Our diet is mostly fish and vegetables, cheese I make. You make cheese? I laugh, yes. Cook has been with me a long time. She has been my right and left angel wings. Lost her husband about five years ago, all knotty fingered from years of hard hard work. Never a complaint. You need to remember that we have to be discreet, in hiding. No music. No friends. Little laughter. A lot of contemplation. A time to tell my story. Sometimes, my eyes are so weighed down with the darkness of death. Here I don’t have to dress in accordance with the social status of my relations.

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