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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.

My dream was weird and so unconnected. The first thing I recall in my dream was that I was walking through the streets, I wasn't alone though. There were other people. As I continued walking, the place started to look a lot familiar to me. It's the street near my university. I started talking to some people, and quite weirdly, I found myself back at the university. Then the scenery changed. I was now back at my high school and answering a test I didn't even know was about. The strange thing about this was the people who were answering the test with me. They were my college blockmates and they were hurriedly answering the test. The next thing I knew, they were all done and hurriedly passed it. I looked at my test paper and realized I wasn't even nearly done answering the test! Then the scene changed once again. I wasn't in the classroom anymore, I was out at the volleyball court in school and my teacher in high school was there. She was collecting the test papers. Moments after, a few of my high school batchmates rushed to me and gave me their papers. I passed them, including my own unfinished paper and then the dream changed again. But I realized in the end that there were papers that I didn't pass. The next part of my dream was an entirely weird scenery. I felt as if I were in this sort of ancient monastery or church. But, I wasn't me though, I was a guy. And I recall I hurriedly dashed for the steps, brushing off my other companions. The steps slowly formed into a spiral staircase made purely of stone. As I ran up the swirlng slight of stairs, I found myself in a gathering. I remember seeing all sorts of people in their habit and knights covered with steal armor. Then a fight began, and I didn't understand why. But people were being pushed to fall from the area that I just came from. I looked to the bottom of the steps, and it creeped me out how they looked endless. Each time a person was thrown out to fall, they seem to splash through and vanish. The next part is where my dream ended and I was already out of that creepy monastery-like place. It appeared to me as if I were in this kind of party and people were all dressed with odd costumes, some even opting to cosplay. The next thing I knew was that people were starting to leave and I was with this guy and I was, for some reason, aroused. So we sort of 'tried' to do it, but he refused to go any further and left me. I was still there on the ground and people were just walking by, not minding me at all like it was perfectly normal. Then came this really beautiful girl who hadn't much to wear. Quite suddenly, she started performing oral sex to me and the next thing I knew was that I climaxed. And that's where I woke up.

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Voilà Monsieur pourquoi votre fille est malade... (à ce niveau elle n'est même plus très vivante)...Au départ journal contestataire... Quasi anarchiste. Des intellectuels de gauche . Puis virage commercial pour survivre... des initiatives socio culturelles comme les célèbres petites annonces de Libé .. Des articles culturels, et de moins en moins scientifiques. Comme Alain Duhamel, de moins en moins percutant. De moins en moins de scoops. dernièrement laisse Le Monde se farcir la corvée du scoop des attaques chimiques en Syrie. la Syrie, la grande absente des colonnes de Libé. Incapable de lire l'Histoire en train de se détruire au proche Orient. Par désintérêt? Libé devenu un Cloud, un terminal des téléscripteurs et dépêches des reporters de terrain. Mais surtout pas à l'initiative journalistique. De la Pub mensonge "Libé vous étonne"... Un journal de confort, il ne faut pas déranger les Fran?ais. On ouvre les commentaires et les basses oeuvres défilent. Merci tout de même de ne pas limiter le nombre de mots des commentaires, Le Monde oblige à être concis et donc censure... Merci à M.Alain Duhamel, même si sa prose et son discours ne sont plus percutants et se fait même moucher trop facilement par les UMP, mais il a réussi à nous éviter les commentaires les plus vulgaires, parmi ces commentaires, ce qui finalement est le plus important. Notre temps est celui du vulgaire, du facile, du clinquant, du cri-insulte, du fric trop vite gagné, de l'indifférence à la douleur d'autrui, il parait même que quand la douleur est trop grande, le cri ne sort plus... Silence.

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My dream started with a competition where 12 girls would be chosen to be part of a TV show. After We we're picked we flew out of the country to India. Where the host of the TV show took all our money and held us hostage. However, she explained that this was part of the TV show. She said we we're all going to die, but in different ways. She killed one girl by throwing her off a cliff, but then went back to name sure she was dear because she had to make sure they suffered. The host was abused when she was little and wanted to inflict paint on others. Throughout the dreams she takes us strawberry picking and through mountains filled with snow. Her helpers to calm us down and to prevent us from screaming they drop tablets of Molly. We take them and I think it was a way to control us. Sometimes they set us loose on a mountain and we had to find our way back to them through all the snow.

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