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Found 571 dreams containing force - Page 45


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I have had this dream many times but always in different settings,environments e etc......a strange invisible strong force always tries to lure me away from people and or rooms with life.....???? it sometimes tricks me into believing I'm leaving a room with good intentions but once I leave earshot distance of the ones still left in. the room I try to go back and I start to hear an ear splitting noise and static like white light. I always have to plant my feet strongly in order to allow this force to either pass through me or I literally have top fight my way out

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Once upon a time, I lived in a warehouse (think Warehouse 13). One dreary evening I realized I was being romantically pursued by an ex boyfriend his girlfriend . I spurned their advances and hid myself away in a small pub with a male coworker of mine. Over the course of the night, I found myself getting ill, but refused to leave. We ended up embroiled in a very intense discussion about unbreakable plates and bowls with the bartender. She was a very stout woman eating sauerkraut and pita bread. Eventually, I bid them farewell and went home to my warehouse where I proceeded to put telephones down my pants. It was as I was placing a particularly lovely princess style rotary in my pant leg that I realized the moral of this little tale: After being woken by a phone call, perhaps you shouldn't force yourself back into sleep if it's not immediately forthcoming

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I had a dream last night. I was on board a commercial flight with friends from my previous holiday (we never used planes on that holiday I may add). There were two simultaneous flights. We were on board one aeroplane and another, headed to the same destination was flying slightly ahead of us. From the window I occasionally caught a glimpse of the other plane. At the time of the crash, we were passing over some very tropical and beautiful scene below; there were many locals, possibly African, sailing in tiny boats and fishing and generally bustling around on the coast. As I looked from the window I could see a vast plethora of coloured sails, umbrellas and people wearing fantastically coloured clothes. It was beautiful. Shortly after, a message came over the speaker system that we would be dropping altitude dramatically, in order to overtake the other plane, as our pilot thought they were travelling too slowly and the best way for us to pick up speed in order to pass the plane was to manage a controlled drop from altitude whilst turning. All the passengers and I had full confidence in the pilot and suffered no anxiety. As we lowered towards the beautiful coastal scene I was amazed by the perfect curvature of the earth that I could see, the sea seemed to bend on the horizon. I spoke to my friend next to me, a passenger called Pete from Singapore. He told me much about the locals below and I admired his knowledge, however the details of this conversation escape me. Soon after, another message came over the intercom, it was the pilot. He was very happy, almost boastful, about how well he had done in passing the other plane, and that now we could continue with great speed on to our destination (I don’t actually know where we were headed). The pilot then added that he was now going to regain the appropriate altitude for the flight and therefore a dramatic climb was imminent. The nose of the plane rose to an almost vertical ascent. So much so that I adjusted myself on my seat so that my backside as, in fact, on the headrest of my chair. Other people stayed as they were, seated as though they were in the carriage of a climbing rollercoaster. This is a thought which occurred to me in the dream, it actually felt like we were on a rollercoaster. Despite this everybody was calm. I had a mild disquiet in my stomach however and my trust in the pilot had diminished somewhat. I saw him as an arrogant show-off, was any of this necessary? A short while later, the plane began to stall and fall from the sky. We crashed into the ocean not far from the coast. Things went black for a short moment and there was the feeling of a powerful impact. When vision was restored however, everyone around me was fine, except I had a terrible dread feeling that people somewhere must have lost their lives, and that myself and my neighbours were very lucky to be unharmed. We all quite calmly unbuckled ourselves from the seats and proceeded to force open the door and slide down the escape chutes in a very orderly fashion. We were introduced to the warm tropical ocean for the first time. I paused at the exit and was surprised to see everybody wearing life jackets. I asked the stewardess where they were kept and she claimed not to know. I checked under my seat and found nothing. Nevertheless, I slid down into the sea. The water was warm and calm; the plane wreckage seemed to disappear instantly. Me and my friends swam calmly towards the shore. That beautiful and colourful scene. We were met part way by local fisherman similarly swimming in the water. They had the look of aboriginal or tribal denizens yet were polite and spoke good English, we exchanged greetings and nothing more as we headed to the beach. Upon reaching the sandy shore I remember seeing coins buried under a light covering of sand. I bent down and inspected further. I discovered that the coins were English pennies, all different types. Upon this discovery I was filled with a terrible feeling that the second plane had crashed too, and that must be how these coins arrived upon the beach. I felt, or feared that, everybody on the second plane had died in the crash. It was at this moment that I woke up.

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I was in an abandoned building with Mohammed Alsharif and this couple (whom I don't actually know but I seemed to know in the dream). The four of us were going to go somewhere and I ended up outside in the car (a yellow convertible) with the couple. The guy was driving and he started to drive off without Mohammed. I protested and the guy said something to the effect of 'screw him' and then said, 'He shouldn't lag behind.' I got highly offended and demanded we go back. The guy refused; I argued; he refused. So, I told him to let me out. He woudn't. So, we argued about that until I told him this was kidnapping and got my phone out to call the police. I was deposited on a dark, rain-slicked skid row street. It was very dark and I started to walk back to the apartment to find Mohammed. I got to the upstairs doorway - a kind of doorway without a door to a landing with cracked and abused plaster, the cement floors covered in dust and debris - and he was there. "I'm so sorry, I said. "No problem," he shrugged in classic Mohammed fashion. "No, it's terrible. They were going to leave without you." "It's okay." Again, quintessential Mohammed casual shrug. "They're assholes. I'm so sorry. What should we do now?" I asked, thinking we would make alternate plans for the night out. He smiled in a cute, coy way and blushed as he shrugged his shoulders. I got the hint and smiled and blushed and looked down at my shoes. As I looked back up, he put his arms around my neck - very gently, very shyly - and leaned over to kiss me. It was gentle at first, but as I became more receptive, he got bolder. At one point, I gave a little whimper while he was kissing me and lips still on mine, he smiled and repeated my whimper mockingly. In this torrent of polite and demure passion, the boldest I could force myself to be was to press a hand to his chest. His hands never ventured beyond the back of my neck.

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