All I can say is that this was a wonderful gift and whether its from you subconscious or from somewhere outside of you; you are doing the right thing by cherishing it and living a productive life.I had this dream in my late twenties. I don't know if this was the way my mind telling me to grow up, to make peace with my species, the human civilisation or not to worry about things I can't change which are my sober interpretations so far but its effect is still as fresh as that night. It's like a little stab wound in my heart. I feel it sting when I remember this dream and think about it.
This reminds me quite a lot of a dream that Dostoevsky wrote in at least three versions, and that he gave to three different characters (in Demons, A Raw Youth, and "The Dream of a Ridiculous Man").There is one dream I had, not like any other, I'll never forget. It affected me very much, it changed me or I had it because I was changing. I can see where all my dreams and nightmares come from, but not this one. I think that was the most powerful one I had. It's a short, complete, very vivid dream. I need to tell it.
I'm walking in a forest, it's dark and warm. I'm carrying white jug (?) like things. There are fires lit around there is this flickering faint light around. It's so cosy, peaceful in the open forest at night. You know this feeling, you are out there with people somewhere, everybody is scattered around and you are all doing something together, collectively working. There is this feeling of full safety, comfort being a part of that. That's it. And I 'hear' people talking and walking. It was an amazing feeling. I don't see people, just figures. The voices are benevolent, soft. I don't understand any of it but 'get' what they are talking about.
Then I remember that I'm not on Earth. I'm on another planet and in a momentary panic, I try to remember. How long I have been here? (But not what is here, how did I get here.) And I think "I have been here for twenty years with Earth time...". Then I suddenly start sobbing because then it comes to me, I remember that Humanity has ended. Human civilisation is no more. I can't describe that feeling of loss, pain, and heartbreaking. The void tearing my heart. I'm crying right now writing this. And then I think to myself "All that destruction, wars, genocides what was it for... nothing ... now it ended." But then someone (?) touches my back (physically?) and says (?) 'It's OK. Don't worry.' I don't hear any voice, I just understand it. And I feel a very intense melancholia and then an incredible relief, peace. I feel/think like, "It's OK. It started, happened and ended." This happens in moments in the short dream. It feels like something very heavy was lifted from me. Then we arrive at an opening, there is an enormous tree. (It's a tree?) It's an irregular sphere-like shape. I remember its branches make small rooms like spaces in it with flickering lights. But I don't remember any detail. Nothing about the figures, that place. I woke up crying, I cried a lot but I was peaceful.
I had this dream in my late twenties. I don't know if this was the way my mind telling me to grow up, to make peace with my species, the human civilisation or not to worry about things I can't change which are my sober interpretations so far but its effect is still as fresh as that night. It's like a little stab wound in my heart. I feel it sting when I remember this dream and think about it.
Really? I should read them then. I've only read Brothers Karamazov, Crime and Punishment and Notes From Underground. And I was in high school, I guess. I know Demons by name but I don't remember others. I haven't read any Russian classic since ancient times. Thank you.This reminds me quite a lot of a dream that Dostoevsky wrote in at least three versions, and that he gave to three different characters (in Demons, A Raw Youth, and "The Dream of a Ridiculous Man").
20 years ago, I was writing some trivial kind of post-graduate thesis on Italian Renaissance sculpture. Hand details. I have no idea why but probably because it kept extended and I felt stressed, I kept running around in Disputa's upper part a few times. Why Disputa I have no idea. I don't even like Raffaello particularly. And it had nothing to do with the mural. In my dream, there were rooms behind the mural and some figures from Athen's School and some others I added (?) were there sitting at a table. Leonardo. I look at an old man and think it must be him. (?) I don't remember others now, I used to. What am I doing, chasing Michelangelo. LOL He keeps going in and out of rooms and I can never reach him. I can't even see his face. I clearly remember his painting like robes flowing, dark blue of course. Ha! I hear doors shutting. And it was like one of those dark movies which they can't manage the light and make a mess. It was stupid and agitating. That stupid text ate my 3 years for nothing, just to make my prof happy. It was ridiculous and meaningless as art history goes. And it was my idea to keep it easy. It sounds so funny now.Two more: in college, I was a fine arts major. I mostly did graphic art in b&w and didn't trust my sense of color. Then one night, senior year (which I spent intensely, almost obsessively working on my senior thesis, a series of nearly monochrome landscapes), I had a dream of the most beautiful, brightly colored painting I'd ever seen. I can still see it in my memory, but if I tried to paint it it would be just a poor approximation of what I saw in my dream.
Then halfway through delivering the homily, you realised... you WEREN'T WEARING YOUR TROUSERS!?Not quite the same thing. But I would often go to bed on Saturday night disgruntled by one of the pieces of Sunday's sermon only to have a good answer for the problem the minute I woke up on Sunday. It was so common that I got to the point where I didn't worry much about a whole on Saturday night because I was pretty sure something would be available to me on Sunday I had not thought of before.
...I went to one of the Star Wars films at the theater with a friend and he fell asleep half way through or somewhere there about. I really don't know how long he was sleeping; however if he hadn't been snoring I might have let him sleep right through.I remember a dream where I went to the cinema in a big shopping centre with a friend. I fell asleep during the film
No, that was never dreamed about, or (praise the Lord) never happened for real. I do know of a pastor who always wore waders when he baptised someone by immersion but one day he overfilled the baptismal tank and the water flowed over his waders as he and the one to be baptised stepped in. Water then over flowed his waders, and he had to take the off to get out of the tank. Revealing to the congregation that he had taken his trousers off so that they didn't get damp in the waders. Blessedly he did not go commando.Then halfway through delivering the homily, you realised... you WEREN'T WEARING YOUR TROUSERS!?