Understand My Dreams basa"d

Dreams his father

Found 119 dreams containing his father - Page 4


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.

My little brother had died in my dream. He was getting ready to go off to college but somethin g happened, im not sure how he died. But my parents told me in my dream and I was crushed. I felt this huge weight descend upon me and I was overwhelmed. I thought I was on the couch but when I looked up, I was standing by the huge window in our living room. I watched as our van drove away like it had when my 1 year old foster brother went back to his father. I couldn't breathe because I was so sad and angry this was happening....again. An old, beat up green truck (a truck my brother would have loved) was backing into our drive way. I heard my sister say, "someone's here" and when I looked into the reflection in the glass I saw my friend that passed away a year ago.I said quietly "Derek? Why are you here? What does this mean?" I remember being so sad, words just fail to describe it. But Derek lowered his head and shook it as he put a hand on my shoulder. My parents looked at me with their tear filled eyes like I was crazy. I went to the door, it felt like it took forever, but as I did all my memories of my brother flooded me. I finally reach the door and it's a little boy with his back turned to me. I place my hand on his shoulder to turn him toward as me. As I turn h i m, he morphhs into my 6 foot tall brother: he was crying and smiling, brushing this all off like would in a joke. "Please, please dont leave! I love you. Please don't go." He hands me a dish with food, smiles, hugs me and leaves for the truck. Derek comes out and again places his hand on my shoulder. "It's going to be ok." He whispers in my ear. Derek hugs me and then gets in the truck with my brother. I'm left on the porch, darkness descends upon me and I cry. Because I dont want to be ok, I want them all back. My brothers....When I went back inside, my parents ashed me to write his obituary but I could with that face starring back at me because once I write it, he's really gone. My brother really would be gone. And that's when I woke up crying because it felt too real to be a dream.

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I was traveling through the Middle East, a rare sight of a woman alone with her children. Everywhere we went, small children with large, dark, haunted eyes would watch my son and daughter as they laughed easily, teased each other and tried to talk to one another in Arabic from a small red phrasebook. One day we sat on a hot, dusty, crowded train. As the vista flashed by outside the window, a young boy, close to the same age as my son, sat across from us with his father. He watched quietly, seriously, as my children giggled, poked at one another and pointed out goats, mountains and beautiful rolling dunes awash in browns, soft pinks and ochers. My daughter turned to the boy and spoke a short phrase to him - "Hello; how are you?" - and suddenly he smiled, huge brown eyes lighting up and his face transformed into that of a beautiful and carefree young man. He began to answer when his father, eyes flashing, gave him a sharp reprimand in the universal language that every parent understands, the tone conveying words I understood in a language I could not. The boy cast his eyes downward. I looked at the man and attempted his language. "I'm sorry and it is not my business yet...why is it not alright for our children to speak with one another?" He looked at me and, with a small sigh, said "Our children are not the same." I said, "We are not wealthy people; you have no reason to dislike us." He barked a short laugh and said, "You, wealthy? You have riches. We -" he pointed at his breast, "we have wealth. We have the wealth that comes from true knowledge of our Creator, of our thousands of years of history, of our struggles. Of our losses. Of our families, of our heritage, of our culture. Your children have riches. Riches of the promise of a future. My son has wealth. But the promise of a future...?" He raised his arms heavenward in a fatalistic gesture and slowly turned his head to look out the window of the train. His proud face looked resigned yet strangely at peace. I woke up with tears running down my face.

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What a dream I had…. Shane is a sixteen-year-old boy who lives in Pasadena California. He is the only child of Russ and Sheila Boatwright, a very successful couple. His father was a great athlete and was named “Mr. Football” of Orange County California in high school. He is a self-made millionaire who owns a chain of furniture stores. Russ is a workaholic and he and Shane hardly ever talk to one another. Shane’s opinion of his mother is that “she thinks she’s some kind of royalty or something, because dad’s so rich. All she cares about is her high-society fundraisers and her tennis lessons”. Currently his mom and dad are having marital problems, and he thinks his father may have a girlfriend . Although they buy him anything he wants, both parents seem too involved with their own problems to pay much attention to Shane. Shane is relatively popular at school and plays on the school football team. However, he doesn’t have very many close friends and he says he just feels “weird” and like he “doesn’t fit in”. Shane has one very close friend named Ben. Ben has recently found a girlfriend and has been spending less time with Shane. Shane secretly resents Ben’s girlfriend for breaking up their relationship, but has not confronted Ben because he’s a little confused about his feelings. Shane does not have a girlfriend . This is the dream that Shane told his therapist. I walk downstairs to my living room towards the Christmas tree. All of the presents were gone and I was totally confused. The presents were all outside all ripped apart and messed up. Then I started crying because everything was gone and my dad was saying it was my fault for putting the presents near a power bar, or something which got hot. Some people came in and helped save us by throwing the presents outside. I am still crying because I was getting blamed. Then we found some of the presents in the cupboard. Then the scene changes and I'm sitting in class at school, which suddenly changes to sitting in the auditorium. I was singing in this funny high pitched voice, and this girl came up to me and said she liked me and I said she was nice. Suddenly she started taking off her pants and I was like…um you better look behind you, because the vice principal was behind her. The VP pulls her and points to me and says come with me. Then I found out I'm suspended for so long and I have detention. I just start crying because I've never been suspended and this is going to make me look bad with my reputation etc. So I'm just crying then I'm sitting in class and the VP tells me to follow her through the cafeteria. So we're walking through the cafe and some kid spilled juice all over, so she had to deal with that student first. Then as I'm standing there I see an old lady who slipped and fell on the ground, I help her up and realized this lady looks sort of like my grandma who just died. Then I called the old lady the name that I called my grandma that no one else did. And she said something like "I used to have a grandson or granddaughter who called me that". But I didn't really hear that part well. Then I told her my grandma had just died and I started crying and crying. Then I woke up completely confused.

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I dreamt of a unknown white man who had a wife and son also unknown to me. The wife realised that the man was acting very differently after having a accident so he says. The man looked sick, skinny and slightly blue but he always had this out burst of rage and was very aggressive to his family. One night he had got very angry and ran upstairs to tell of his son, his son who looked around 8 years old. His son had ran into the bathroom to escape but his father booted open the door and entered the bathroom he found his son shaking and scared in the corner. The man began to point nah shout at the boy. The mother heard all the commotion and ran to help her son, the man became more aggressive and began to grab the boy by his arm the mother tried to escape the bathroom with her son but ended up trying to escape into the cupboard in the bathroom, when she opened the door she found a dead body and was identical to her husband. When she turned and looked at the man in the bathroom she then realised that man wasn't really her husband.

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The dream did not begin with the promise of horror; I was in a college auditorium surrounded by a few fellow students and we were preparing to watch a documentary by the gentleman on stage. Initially, the general conception among the crowd was that he was depressed and that the documentary he had to show us would be about his depression; this was not the case. When the film began to play, we quickly learned that it was filmed by his father. “Dad, come here there’s something you need to see!” But it’s dark, what is there to possibly see in the dark? Suddenly, I no longer feel as though I’m sitting down watching this scenario play out on film; I am the father, following my son around with this video camera gearing to see whatever he has planned for me. I step into the light and it is here where my dream becomes a nightmare. All around are bodies that have been destroyed; from the few I dare to look at I can see a girl with no eyes and a gashed leg and a myriad of dead men. The horror does not stop here, in the dream my son takes me from room to room showing me more dead bodies; he has killed them all for me. Then I am surrounded by more darkness, but this is a good darkness. It is the darkness of my room and my nightmare was over.

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