Understand My Dreams basa"d

Dreams bled

Found 234 dreams containing bled - Page 10


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 got set up and arrested for a crime that I didn't commit. The police arrested the other person who set me up as well. Who was known to them and they knew he was a serial liar. We were being checked in but there was other people there. And this massive skinny polish guy. Looked at me and said if you say the world I'll kill the other guy in front of me. Then I told him no. Then he put his arm round me and stabbed a pen through my pressure point and I bled out

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I'm an apartment, DF's apartment, my recent stepfather. This is nothing like his actual house however, though I wasn't thinking like that at the time. The colors of the house are pale, boring, light grey, white, and a shade of tan that barely makes it any brighter. Directly to my left is a large, hardwood table, seen through a pale lens of colorlessness. Farther forward of that it a kitchen, with marble tops and light grey counters, still no contrast or brightness. To my right, and slightly forward is a living room. The wraparound couch is pale tan, badly accentuated with white and light grey pillows. I take a few steps into the living room, and soft plush meets my toes. Looking down, there is light grey fluffy carpet in between my feet. A foggy glass sliding door at the end of the living room. I sense rather than feel the other people in the house. DF, my stepdad, MOM, my mother (Who else?), and my stepbrother, CC. The rest of my immediate family is nowhere to be found, but my thoughts barely brush upon this subject without any feeling of alarm or surprise. Scene change. I'm outside. The sky is a bright blue and the grass is so light it almost looks like frosting. The fence is a wooden color, pale by any normal standards, but neon in comparison to the inside of this house. Our house/apartment rests on the side of a hill, and I see thousands more of the houses spread around us. The hill is alarming steep. A fence surrounds our house except for a small break in the back right corner. Accompanied by neighborhood kids and my brother, CC, I run towards the exit, looking for something adventurous. The rest is a joyful and exciting blur of running around the hillside, and finding an odd stairway that circles downwards. The end of the 'hill' is actually a small hang over, and the staircase is a circular structure leading to a raised concrete wall with a little over a foot of space under it. I remember running down these stairs, feet hitting it and making a loud ringing sound due to the metal structure, even with the actual steps being made of concrete. I remember worming under the wall with someone, hiding and trying to muffle my laughter and quick breathing. Later, I return home, the night sky looking purple, with amazing white lights of a variety of sizes glinting down on use like a cartoon sky. Scene change. I'm farther into the living room now, and it's later in the day, according to the sunlight streaming through the glass door. No one is here with me anymore, except KC sitting on the pale couch. She's doing something. It feels like she's watching a movie or playing a game, but I can't see what she's watching or playing. Odd. I ask her where my phone is, and she turns her head to me quickly before turning it back, light hair flying wildly, emphasizing her youth. She directs me to the kitchen, but doesn't know for sure. I walk into the kitchen, The floor is a pale marbled tile, pale cabinets with stone tops. Every piece of kitchenware is hidden from sight, very unusual for our house. You would see a cast iron tool at the very least sitting on the stove, but none of the usual tools are sitting on the counters. I look around me, not seeing it on the gleaming counter tops. Somehow I determine that the last place I had it was outside. I head out with a cell phone, calling my own phone. I kneel down to use gravity to my advantage, sliding down the steep hill speedily, heading towards the stairway. I run down the stairs in a similar manner that I did the night before, but stop halfway, looking down at the dirty patch of grass on the other side of the wall. I don't see a ringing phone, and am about to leave, but I do see something. A black flip phone with an orange back sits there open. I get halfway through a thought, "MY PHONE IS PURPLE, THAT'S NOT---" but the dream takes over, and I can feel half of myself getting excited and running for the phone. I crawl under the wall, my small chest rubbing on the concrete floor and my back rubbing on the thick wall above me. Anxiously, i hurry over to the other side and pick up the phone, still on my stomach. It's not ringing, and the thought finally gets through to me that that was never my phone to begin with. Suddenly, I'm aware of something vibrating in my hand. I look down to the hand that was holding the phone I was calling myself with. Amazingly, I was holding my familiar purple phone.

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I was large, large like a god looking down on a small earth. I was looking over the ocean and I could see a man. He had fallen overboard his ship. The ship could not save him; they could not reach him with the massive waves that swept them away. There was a whale in the water; this wale did not want the man to be saved. The whale was swimming rapidly drowning the man and pushing the ship further and further away. He made the man helpless killing him slowly. I could not stand to watch this any longer. I reached down and scoped the man up in my hands, and at that point I panicked. He needed CPR or some sort of help that I could not provide being so much larger. I looked around me surrounded by others just as large. I was shouting for help franticly asking what can I do! I got the same response from everyone that there was nothing I could do and to put him out of his misery. I could not bear this answer there had to be something anything. As he lay in my hand helpless something amazing happened he began to cough! He stumbled to the tip of my finger trying to stand. No one had noticed this small miracle in my hand but I. then suddenly he was being yanked out of my grasp. I could not pull back it would kill him! I was screaming I cannot remember if any words came out though I attempted. I could feel his tiny hands griping my finger for his life. The way they slipped from my hand holding with every ounce of energy he had. But the force pulling was much stronger. It was a man a friend of mine who knew I could not do what everyone thought needed to be done. No one had seen the man get up; they all believed he was suffering. He did not listen to my screams of horror and in that one swift movement this tiny miracle was gone. I will always remember those tiny hands the way they slipped from mine.

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I was riding in a tiny canoe with my imaginary crush, Leo Valdez. It was overcast, the sky gray and the lake gray, as well. We were canoeing in a lake surrounded by trees, and as we rowed along, I saw hooded black figures sprinting across the land, and I also saw Pope Francis giving a blessing to a child. Leo and I docked our boat on the shore, and as soon as we got off of the boat, a few of the cloaked black figures swooped in and snatched up Leo. They ran away with him, and somehow, I had enhanced agility, and so I was able to climb the trees without anyone noticing. After a while, however, I saw Pope Francis, again. He looked up and saw me, and beckoned for me to come down. I did. He asked me why I looked so troubled, and why I was hiding in that tree. I explained to him my situation. He nodded, touched my forehead, and said, "Do not fear, child. You are now blessed by God." I quickly thanked him and ran away, because I saw the black-clothed people, and this time , they had knives and guns. I ran to the lake, and on the other side, I saw Leo, and he smiled at me.

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I often dream vivid dreams. Last night I was swimming in the ocean, alone, far from shore but with it still in sight. In the distance, a jet came into view. The closer it came to me, the more I could see that it was going to crash. Out of control, the jet ambled towards me. I had nowhere to go, no way to escape. I felt certain it was going to attempt a water landing with me in its path. I was left only to pray, and watch. It came closer and closer. Flying low, I dove underwater as it approached, fighting to go deeper. The plane squealed loudly as it skimmed the surface of the water above me. I could look up and see its belly scratching and clawing the surface above. The sound was deafening, a collective terrorizing shout of fear of the hundreds of nameless faces inside I could not see. As the plane skid past me, and with my lungs empty and crying for air, I fought with every muscle in my body aching to break back to the top and breathe again. I made it just in time, looking over my shoulder with weak but effusive pants just in time to see the plane bellow into the giant beachside hotel buildings, destroying them on impact with a deafening blow that echoed for miles. The anticipated explosion followed. I spent the next few minutes back underwater hiding and looking up as debris fell and tattered my surroundings forming a blanket that sought to drown me. Treading water moments later, the once peaceful ocean was littered and trashed with fiery scraps of metal, junk and torn body parts. I rescued a drowning boy and his sister. They were maybe five. Twins. Crawling onto the beach with the boy and the girl on my back, wringing to my neck, I laid them down. They were alive, whoever they were. I woke up.

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In my dream, a family member of mine passed away. My mother went away to go help out the person who died's immediate family. She left me with a man I don't know or recognize but I treated him as a father figure. This man is really troubled by the death and lashes out on anyone who comes to our house. My cousin, the son of the deceased, comes to my house in the night with a gang of other dudes and they have knives. As soon as they open the front door, one of them points a knife to my neck and says, "It's killing time." I try to yell that I didn't kill the family member, but it seems as if they're still going to kill me.

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