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Dreams ally

Found 6,360 dreams containing ally - Page 493


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.

I am about to wake up. I hear my alarm and reach to turn it off but I can’t move. I can’t even open my eyes. I realize I’m paralyzed and I try in vain to scream for help but I can’t make a sound. My head feels foggy and unfocused, like I’m of no substance. My body feels like an iron prison and my consciousness is struggling against it, trying to get the two to connect and move and free me. It’s as if my brain is trapped by my body. I can think properly and flutter my eyelids a bit but otherwise I cannot move. It terrifies me and I scream a silent, mental scream. No one even knows I’m screaming but me. When I finish screaming, I try to calm down and relax, thinking that maybe my paralysis will end when my struggling does. I wait, consciousness still, for what feels like forever. I try to move again to no avail. I remember in a nightmare I had when I was younger, I squeezed my eyes shut and was able to wake myself up. I decide to try that again. I focus on my eyes, squeeze them shut, and open. Nothing. Again. Again. I can’t move. I squeeze my eyes shut as hard as I can, and open them. This time I actually wake up.

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I dreamt that I have traveled to my grandparent’s home in India. While I am there I sit around in the warm sun and somehow manage to hold a conversation with the trees planted in their huge garden. As I am talking with these trees my grandfather who died before I was born comes down the pathway and just sits with me. Curious yet frightened I sit there quietly watching as the scene changes from my grandparent’s backyard to the beach. As I sit there the ocean waves casually turn into a high tide and before I know it I am underwater. I look around and start to swim without much effort or the need for breath. I swim around with fishes and don’t notice that my grandfather is no longer with me. I wake up as I surface.

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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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I was sitting home alone on a stormy evening. All of a sudden there was a knock on the door, which struck me as odd since no one was supposed to be home for another two hours. So I sat still and pretended not to hear anything, but the knock came again. The air around me became cold and lifeless. As if I was inhaling chalk. Then I heard it, the sharp bullet fire followed by the cracking of wood. The door hinge dropped lifelessly to the floor, followed by the door itself. Then a man wearing all black was in its place. Immediately I sprung up and lunged for the back door, but the man was trailing at my heels. Then as if I had went through a wormhole of time I was running through the slummy streets of a crime filled city, the fiend still close behind. I’m running so fast my feet don’t feel a part of my body anymore, I sharply turn but am reluctant to find myself trapped in a dead end alleyway. As I frantically turn he has the gun pointed to my forehead, before he gets the chance to shoot I’m jolted awake.

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