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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.

I “awaken” in a place I do not recall ever being in. I'm in a tall building most likely in New York City, looking out of giant glass windows. A huge hurricane storm is blowing through, churning up all sorts of debris into the air. Trees are coming out of the ground, rocks are flying and breaking windows. Huge blocks of land and straw and roofs are flying past the window. It looked like a scene from Hurricane Katrina. I was terrified and alone. Some debris flew straight into the window I was near and broke it. A gust of wind pulled me out of the window and I fell to the ground.

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My frst love showed up at my home on a white suv as I looked outside my he's to a child and the is pointing at my house,then my husban is leaving out the front door ,my first love came into the house when my husban left out ,I said you're goning to get me in trouble ,my first love say you're not going to be in any trouble I'm here,now my husban is coming back home and my first love runs upstairs.then my coworker comes down stairs and grabs my hand looking at my wedding rings and ask how have you been married and I said going on 4 years.then I turn and look in the kitchen and my first love is frying ground beef and my grand kids are waiting for it to get done.

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I appear in the undergrowth area, filled with sounds of the birds. I’m struggling with the shrubbery until I reach rusty metal structure that is made of two big circles. In the middle of it there is well-like hole. I come closer and start to pull out something with the string from the bottom of the dark hole. At one moment it seems to look like a live snake, but after I got it out, I see that is the white walking stick. Eventually I walk away, leaving the traces that were left by the walking stick on the ground. Later on, I appear in the abandoned territory, which is full of stones and the piles of sand. I go further until I reach a huge hollow and starts to descend down using the ladders. Once I get into the hollow I start to look for something once in a while. Further, I climb with the other ladders upwards and leave the venue. Then I appear in the old warehouse. There’s no one around, except the roosters that makes repetitive sounds. I see one side of the wall has a hole and I sneak inside. On the ground I see myself sleeping just behind the small tree. The shiny silver walking stick, with the shape of the crawling snake, is lying next to me. The last thing that I remember is narrow street, with all walls painted with accidental words. I start to move towards the end, carrying the white walking stick that I pulled out from the well in the beginning of my dream. Suddenly I start to mark the words with the stick and I feel that after each word the stick is getting smaller until it completely disappears.

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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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