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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.

This dream has been happening to me since I started the school year. A lot of the times I doze off, I approach a situation in which there is a zombie apocalypse. However, it's always lucid for some reason and I control the outcome. Whenever I failed to survive and get cornered by zombies, I have the same dream reoccurring until I outlive that zombie apocalyse. Then the next dream is a different scenario but the same situation, I would be controlling my own actions in the dream but repeat it if I fail.

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1. Trying to show my work to my girlfriend . Girlfriend gets groped by the client. I hit him. He starts trying to kill me. I escape and start running along with my girl. I see on buffalo. Then a herd. Then one tries to stab me. I escape. Start running again and i feel a pain in my back and abdomen. I see what it is. Another buffalo just stabbed me with its horn. I wake up holding my stomach panting and gasping. 2. Went to an exhibition where 2 different types of beans are displayed. It is a story that a person had been living only eating those 2. I try the first one which is green in color. Then i try the maroon one. I have a fistful and i see a beetle in the beans. Then i see the whole pile is only beetles. I spit out what i put in my mouth. One came out. Another one started creeping into my throat. I start choking and i woke up panting and gasping.

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1. Trying to show my work to my girl friend. Girl friend gets groped by the client. I hit him. He starts trying to kill me. I escape and start running along with my girl. I see on buffalo. Then a herd. Then one tries to stab me. I escape. Start running again and i feel a pain in my back and abdomen. I see what it is. Another buffalo just stabbed me with its horn. I wake up holding my stomach panting and gasping. 2. Went to an exhibition where 2 different types of beans are displayed. It is a story that a person had been living only eating those 2. I try the first one which is green in color. Then i try the maroon one. I have a fistful and i see a beetle in the beans. Then i see the whole pile is only beetles. I spit out what i put in my mouth. One came out. Another one started creeping into my throat. I start choking and i woke up panting and gasping.

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“You know that place between sleeping and awake, that place where you can still remember dreaming? That's where I'll always think of you.” ― J.M. Barrie My name is Shannon. I'm a seventeen year old girl with a cognitive sleep disorder, who doesn't dream. I haven't had a real dream in ten years. When I go to sleep, my body and my brain shuts off, until it's either time to wake up, or pass between the realm of the sleeping, and the awake. In these ten years, when I slept I was plagued with nightmares, vivid nightmares beyond my control that stay with me, haunt me during the day. I'd see the figures in my nightmares everywhere, be it people, or unexplainable things. But today, when I slept, something happened: I was sleeping, yet awake and well aware, and while this was happening, I was dreaming. This dream has to be the most real thing that has ever happened. Let me tell you what happened: I was sitting outside of a lovely, slightly older house with a young man, he was a little older than I was, Maybe nineteen or twenty. It was dark, snow was falling to the ground, but it wasn't cold. We were talking, having a wonderful time; he was handsome; mid-length choclate colored hair that was combed back, though some of his hair had migrated infront of his face. He was wearing all black, not in the 'creepy gothic' way you would think. He was wearing a lovely leather coat, looked like he had traveled to london and back to get it, regular dress shoes, slacks, and a long-sleeve black top. I was different, much different. I was dressed in all white, though I couldn't tell exactly what I was wearing, we had on almost the same jacket: mine was white, cotton; and his, well I've already told you. I was wearing a white beret, and my hair was much different: it was long, almost down to my back and as blonde as a sun goddess; curled just slightly at the end; my glasses weren't black anymore, but a light baby blue. He smiled at me, took my hand and called me "Madaline." I responded! That wasn't my name but I responded as if I've had it for my whole life. This boy... He looked into my eyes and I could see through him, I could see into his soul. In an instant he turned, and pulled out a beautiful light blue and lime green stripped scarf, drapped it around my neck, and smiled once again. I beemed, I didn't know what to say, it was beautiful! gorgeous, even. He then took a small letter from his pocket, and handed it to me. It was a poem, entitled "My sweet Madaline."; I stopped, and looked at him, and proceeded to read: "My sweet Madaline, Though I will never be here in time, You are heaven to this tattered soul. You are a gift, that should be protected, And though we may be appart, in life: I can promise you, we will have our time, My sweet Madaline." Before I had a moment to respond, a little girl came out of the house behind us. She was about eight or so, with the same hair color hair as the young man. She looked at the scarf, then the note, and ran in side "Mommy, mommy! Why does she gets stuff and I don't!" she shouted, running inside. We both laughed. At that moment my eyes opened, my room was dark. It was about 11:00am; but when I closed my eyes, this.. dream... it continued. There was a court room, the young man was sitting in front with his lawyer, there was nobody on the stand. It seemed as though they were talking about a child that had died; Madaline. They had blamed the young man for it. The lawyer accusing him had found the poem. "My sweet Madaline" on his desk, to be honest, I don't know what was happening. I rushed into the court room, flinging open the doors and yelling "Stop!" Instantly all eyes were on me, the room fell silent as the young man looked back at me, and I knew, I just knew, he couldn't have done this. "That poem is about me! He wrote it about me!" I opened my eyes again, back to reality before turning to the otherside of my bed. Closing my eyes, I saw an older woman with two men standing on either side of her. She was holding a file, with one, small sheet of paper pulled out of it. "She's telling the truth." the woman said with a soft quiver in her voice. I saw the young man's face before my eyes opened for the final time. This is all I remember.

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