Understand My Dreams basa"d

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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 had a dream where i was cutting branches off a orange tree and as I am cutting the oranges and branches off the tree I see a man standing behind it wearing a mask. And as soon I him there is a woman in a kitchen doing the dishes looking out a window. The same man is now n the kitchen as well, then he runs out the kitchen and the woman puts out her arm signalling to stop. ( also the woman had a expression of sadness and distress on her face as the man ran out)

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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 dreamed I was someone else... I was a young blonde girl (I never saw her face as the dream was in first person, I only know she is blonde because she is constantly twirling her long hair in her fingers) and the dream started in her house at night. (I was her so it was my house, but it is not my house in real life) She was walking through the hall and saw her older brother (he had brown hair) laying on the couch (not asleep even though it was very late) In my dream I could tell that the girl was very upset, but I did not know why yet. The girl started talking to her brother and while they were talking she starts thinking about if she should tell him or not but eventually loses her nerve and goes to bed. (What she wants to tell him, I have no idea.) The next day she is in the kitchen, and because it is morning I can finally see what the house looks like. The house was all white, had big windows, and the floor was wet because she had just mopped it. Then her mom came into the kitchen and said something but I don't remember what. Then she (sorry, I don't know her name) asked her mom to follow her to the living room so they could talk, and once there she told her mom that she was pregnant. The mom at first seemed shocked, but then said, "We can't tell your dad, not yet. He'll kill you. Who is the father?" At this the girl started to cry and answered, "I don't know. I was at a party & I got too drunk, and some boys gang raped me. I couldn't walk or even stand but I tried to fight them until I passed out. I don't remember anything, the only reason I know, is because one of them filmed it." The dream fast forwards a few years in the future and this time it is in third person not first but I still don't see the girls face. She had a daughter (about 2-4) who has short, dark brown curls and brown eyes. The child has darker skin than it's mother and is dresses in a blue and red dress. They are playing in a field filled with cars in Summer. After that, I wake up. The weirdest part of my dream was that I recognized the rapists. (They are people who went to my high school, I even hung out with them a few times. Neither of them I like any more though. One is a druggie, the other is just a jerk.) ***Some info about me*** 1) The girl in the dream was definitely not me. She was years younger than me (in her early teens), had blonde hair (I am a brunette), was short (I'm not short), lived in a different house from me, had a different mother from me (her's was kinda tall & blonde, mine is short with black hair), had an older brother but no other siblings (I am the oldest of 5), and knew her father (he wasn't in the dream, but he was mentioned in the dream... I don't know my father at all as I have never met him.) 2) I have never been raped before of known anyone who has been raped. 3) I have never had a dream about rape before.

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I was traveling through the Middle East, a rare sight of a woman alone with her children. Everywhere we went, small children with large, dark, haunted eyes would watch my son and daughter as they laughed easily, teased each other and tried to talk to one another in Arabic from a small red phrasebook. One day we sat on a hot, dusty, crowded train. As the vista flashed by outside the window, a young boy, close to the same age as my son, sat across from us with his father. He watched quietly, seriously, as my children giggled, poked at one another and pointed out goats, mountains and beautiful rolling dunes awash in browns, soft pinks and ochers. My daughter turned to the boy and spoke a short phrase to him - "Hello; how are you?" - and suddenly he smiled, huge brown eyes lighting up and his face transformed into that of a beautiful and carefree young man. He began to answer when his father, eyes flashing, gave him a sharp reprimand in the universal language that every parent understands, the tone conveying words I understood in a language I could not. The boy cast his eyes downward. I looked at the man and attempted his language. "I'm sorry and it is not my business yet...why is it not alright for our children to speak with one another?" He looked at me and, with a small sigh, said "Our children are not the same." I said, "We are not wealthy people; you have no reason to dislike us." He barked a short laugh and said, "You, wealthy? You have riches. We -" he pointed at his breast, "we have wealth. We have the wealth that comes from true knowledge of our Creator, of our thousands of years of history, of our struggles. Of our losses. Of our families, of our heritage, of our culture. Your children have riches. Riches of the promise of a future. My son has wealth. But the promise of a future...?" He raised his arms heavenward in a fatalistic gesture and slowly turned his head to look out the window of the train. His proud face looked resigned yet strangely at peace. I woke up with tears running down my face.

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