I have never written a dream log or day log before, and probably never will again, but I felt compelled to write one today after the dream I had last night.

Before I go into the dream, I heard yesterday that the father of a friend of mine died pretty suddenly yesterday from cancer. The guy was 57, the same age as my own father. I thought about it a lot yesterday evening, and it would seem that this continued throughout the night.

The dream itself was unusually vivid. I've narrowed this down to the fact that it was late, I had just watched Memento and Ring back to back whilst smoking a few spliffs, so my brain was pretty much muddled by the time my head hit the pillow.

The first thing I remember from my dream is being in a relationship with one of my best friends, a girl called Shelly. I remember we were together and had just moved into a new house, beginning a new life together. Everything seemed fine, until the phone rang and it was my father. We had a conversation about something, then his voice began to quiver. I asked him whats wrong, he said that my mother had just died of cancer.

Understand now that my mother and father, in real life, are very, very close and very much in love after 32 years of marraige, so for one to lose the other suddenly would be the most severe blow that could be dealt.

So, in the dream, I started freaking out and screaming, knowing that my father was completely crushed by the death of the woman he loved. My mother. Those were my initial feelings, then I started to think about my mother and went into a regressive reflection of our relationship together, like my life and her life flashing before my eyes. It's difficult to explain, but it's like I suddenly remembered everything that my mother did for me, from taking me to my first day of school, taking me swimming, going to see Santa Claus, arranging birthdays right up to the present day, helping me to move apartments, organising suprise parties for me, giving me advice and always looking out for me.

In the dream, when I reflected on this, I was overcome with grief, and could feel myself becoming physically ill with emotion, knowing that I could never tell her again how much I appreciate everything that she had done for me, knowing that I could never sit down and talk to her ever again.

I remember walking down a country road, crying and hating myself because I never told her how I much I loved her before she died. This was the worst feeling, and so intense that I had to make myself wake up.

I was never so glad to be in the real world again.

This dream has opened my eyes and made me realise that my parents aren't young people anymore.

It made me appreciate them more, and everything they have done for me. It's taught me to be grateful for what I have, for who my parents are and what they mean to me.

If you still can, take a lesson from this like I have.

This is a dream that I've been having over and over for a few years now,and it never changes. Each time I dream it, I feel like I grow into the part more, belonging in the part I play, and I notice more and more details.

The dream starts out at the home I grew up in. There is a long, short hill with 5 small, white, two-person cabins lining the top, one after the other. My mother and I used to live in the middle one.

In this dream, I and two other people were standing in front of the small stone steps. It seemed like it was very overcast outside, and the time was some kind of mix between day and night. All three of us were clothed in black robes with the hoods pulled up and over our heads, hiding our faces, and tied loosely around the waist by brick red, braided, rope-like belts, the ends hanging at our right sides. Each of us had a staff that reached up to our faces, and were curled in different shapes at the top. One staff was spiral shaped, like the end of a screw, one was shaped like the number 8, and mine was shaped like a snail shell spiral held vertically. We were all the same height, and so were the staffs.

No one in the dream spoke, ever. Both of them motioned me into the door of the cabin, and I nodded, going up the steps, and heading in. Inside, everything was painted white, and there was no furniture or decoration of any kind. All the rooms were bare, but for the eerie light that flooded into the windows, making the floors sport cross patterns. I walked through the livingroom and into the kitchen very slowly, as if stepping faster would make too much noise, and too much noise would be a very taboo thing to do.

As I reached the kitchen, I saw inside a huge cage, covered almost completely with a dark grey blanket-like cloth that hid the contents. I heard wind-sounds as I approached the cage, and the sides of the prison bowed out from time to time, very slowly, as if what was inside was trying to get out by means of changing the shape of its housing. I reached forward and lifted the blanket up, looking under and inside. The cage held a vast, black creature, made of nothing, not unlike the Nothing of the Neverending Story. Its insides were black with no texture, the outline as whiteish and glowing, and it moved along the cage, almost completely filling it, trying to get out. In the blackness of its being, I saw eyes shifting and changing...sometimes one, sometimes two, sometimes none, and from time to time, great fangs materialized, gnashing.

I covered the cage back up, turned, and went back outside. I took my place by my companions' sides, standing perfectly still, like a sentinel. Then, from the back of the tiny house, we heard an explosion as the wall of the kitchen flew off in pieces, and the Nothing got away, taking to the sky. All three of us rushed around, looking after it as it went, and then proceeded to the adjacent outside wall of the cabin, where three horses stood tethered, one black, one white, one grey, all mares. We mounted up, I on the grey mare, and galloped after them. My two companions stayed on the ground, persuing by land, while my mare lept into the sky, galloping on air. We chased the beast as it followed the paved road from above, my little mount straight behind it, in flight. Looking down below, I saw the other two guardians following, a little behind me in position. The beast flew over a broad turn in the road, and suddenly stopped in mid-flight, turned, and attacked me.

I was swept off my horse and into the beast and torn to shreds, and I could see my own flesh being ravaged inside the Nothing...and then I was dropped and landed on the pavement in a bloody heap, dead. My awareness stayed with me for a while, though, and I watched the other two guardians ride by me, not stopping, following the beast, and I watched myself continue bleeding, the blood running out of what was left of me...and I stayed there for a few minutes until I woke up, my body tingling, and barely able to move at all.

The dream is always the same; I always die, and I never see what happens after my death.

I'm wearing an outfit reminiscent of a UPS uniform. I'm with my brother, and he's wearing the same thing. We're engineers of some sort, and we've been assigned the task of repairing a nearby cement bridge.

We drive our truck (which is not unlike a UPS truck) to the location of the bridge, and we survey the area. An attractive brunette appears (wearing the same uniform), and walks over to my side to ask my brother a question. While she is talking to him, she discreetly takes my hand into hers. I look at her, and we both smile.

We then go to the base of the bridge, and look at the damage down there. On the way down, my brother gets a bit ahead of the woman and myself, so I take the opportunity to ask her a question regarding the hand-holding.

I lift my hand, still clutching hers, and I ask "What does this mean? Don't get me wrong, I don't dislike it; I'm just looking for the reasoning behind it." She says something, but I don't remember what. Though I do like her answer, and I understand.

Lieutanant Worf appears out of nowhere, growls, and says "It would be easier if we could push the truck through the tunnel." to which I reply "The truck won't fit in the tunnel."

Worf agrees, and says "The truck, no...but the air will push it back up." I ponder his thought, and agree it's a good idea. (Of course, now it makes no fucking sense whatsover...as is the case with dreams.)

Something happens downstairs, so I quickly head down the staircase, swinging around each landing with ease. The others are having a hard time keeping up with me. I end up in some sort of basement. It's dark, damp, and musty. It seems to be underneath the bridge. Light comes in through a single window, high up on a wall near the ceiling. The others enter the room shortly after, and the dream ends.

My intestines are huge against the wall of my stomach, pressing out, distending my entire body. I am talking to someone about why that might be. A girl I don't like falls into the toilet trying to pull the plug.

I am getting ready to go to work. It's morning and I'm really tired. Soon, this part of the dream will replay in my waking life. I find an insect in my bed as I'm looking for my shoes. It starts out a boxelder bug and as I catch it in toilet paper it is the length of my hand, warm, and hard to squish. I throw it to the floor and stamp on it, bursting its exoskeleton. I find my boots in a basket of shoes and put them on. My friend Nick does the same. I drive to work. At work there are trees planted in ground covered with rounded gray rocks. Picnic tables are set up. One of the trees is planted in a hollow, with an umbrella-shaped wire framework around it and white people chained around the base of the tree, manacles made of steel with huge screws in them. Some of them have infected joints from trying to pull the manacles off. This is some kind of work-related punishment. A black man sitting at a picnic table next to the tree starts asking me trivia questions about Jesus. I push some of the little stones towards the tree, stopping when I realize how bad that would be for the people chained to it. I look down at my feet and realize the shoes I'm wearing are about 6 sizes too big and belong to Nick. I change out of them, putting on my sneakers. I put the boots in my car, which is double-parked on the sidewalk so I won't forget them, then realize that if I have Nick's boots, he can't go to work, which means he's here with me, probably wandering around lost. I find him. He's wearing other shoes but wants his boots. We look for my car, which is not among the light-colored cars sparsely parked on the street. Other people are helping us search. A woman tells us about the two businesses sharing the dumpster in an alley, how one is open from 8am to 8pm, and the other from 8pm to 8am. One of them sells sex toys, the other is an office. The night business has just taken a lot of deliveries. Down at the end of a long block, we find my car double-parked on the street side. There are people sitting on the passenger side, men of arabic descent wearing fezzes. I open the driver's door and tell them to get out. They get out. I get in, make several attempts to close the door before it catches, and lock it. I start driving. It's night and I'm racing through the streets. I hit the same man at a streetcorner and he goes flying off to try to stop me at the next corner, repeating several times before I wake up.

  • Memory allows a dream short and full of many meanings. Carefully and tediously pieced bougainvillea bush is back together again; some glue here little bits of duct tape there to hold the fragile brittle branches as they heal. Surprise! I I had already planted it into the hard ground; the graveled area beside the driveway. Turning on the hose smiling happily pleased about how the fresh red blooms budding were so bright against the sharp green leaves barely covered the bent and broken angled branches. Days later I walked down the driveway to get the mail when I saw a river of rushing water three feet deep sprawl in yellow muddied ribbons across the street invading others property. This is going to be one heck of a water bill.

  • Nicolas Cage was hot sweaty and shirtless relandscaping outside my classroom. I invited him in to help staple papers. He was nervous so I had to stand close to him and teach him how to line up the papers and place the staple at an angle just so because it keeps the papers from tearing off
  • I combed hubbys eye brows down over his eyes to count them. You don't believe much in numbers and counting hairs. I said then began to trim them with the arch of his eye.
  • This is a day late, but I didn't have computer access yesterday, and this was quite a dream. I feel like I need to share it so I'm not so disturbed by it. Unfortunately, I don't remember the majority of it.

    I do remember being with some of the people I spent a lot of time with this last year, including my arch enemy, or rather, a girl I absolutely cannot stand who doesn't purposely make me hate her. But, I must admit, I do. Anyway, I think we have a fight, and horror of horrors, afterwards, I fall into her arms and we kiss! Augh! What is this?

    I am definitely afraid.

    I'll grant this girl is attractive, that is, everyone loves her, my friends, whether they like her or not (some, after witnessing some of her behavior do not approve), agree she is sexy, and I do agree that she is beautiful, or, at least, the sort of girl people would find attractive (think tall, skinny, curls). But I can't stand her! I'd like to think that this dream actually comes from reading a novel whose main character has this girl's name. Later, the girl I kissed in the dream might also have turned into one of my best friends, who I had just seen for the last time for what might be a long time, and this was after six months of separation.

    This was also a reiterative dream because after this I also dreamt that I was confessing this dream to my other friend.

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