Do you ever get that feeling that your feet aren't on the ground? I have this recuring dream where I am walking in a mall or costco or other large crowded public space. All the sudden I feel my feet start to leave the ground. It's not exactlly flying it's very close to hovering. It is hovering. It's interesting, I can zip around and I start to get cocky and start darting between the other people in my dreams. The people are for the most part adrogenous clones of eachother; however once in a while I'll see a friend or something. I don't feel there's a goal to be reached in this dream. I feel it's more of a detachment from reality for the nights when I really need it. You know those days when life is just trying to punish you? It's a very relaxing sensation, this moving without walking. Someday if I remember I'll try to throw this dream into a more lucid state and see if I can controll my dreams. First thing I want to try is walking off something high and see if I just fall or if I gradually sink to a new level. Maybe I'll just stay in the same height-plane and REALLY have a feeling of flight. Anyways, they're very nice dreams, I think I'll go floss now.
In the dream, water was everywhere. I got out of bed, and I was standing knee-deep in clear water. There were goldfish swimming around near my ankles. I waded out to my living room, where the water was as high as my armpits. I calmly watched some of my possessions float around the room, and dove down beneath the surface to find the door key.

I went outside, and it was a clear day, although instead of a street, the pavement was on either side of a deep canal. My neighbor was fishing and didn't acknowledge me. I walked around the block and look down into the murky canal waters, I was looking for something but I didn't know what.

Finally, I gave up and returned home. When I opened the door, my house was dry and I went into the kitchen to made breakfast.

Last night definitely influenced my dreams. A tornado swept over my home town at the same time my parents were sitting in the audience of my play. Our house wasn't damaged, thankfully, but I couldn't help but consider the what ifs of the situation, and those worked their way into my dream.

I'm wandering through a circular room inside a log cabin. The walls are riddled with shallow cubbyholes, and each one contains a different dog. Somehow, I know each and every one by name, though there must be over a hundred. Stairs lead down to a living area, and I realize that this is my home...the home unfettered by social expectations or practicality. The refrigerator is beside the jacuzzi, with a computer a mere arm's reach away. A huge bay window overlooks the ocean, while the mesas of the western desert are visible through the opposite window. The air smells like cedar, warm and comforting. I start to settle in, and the dogs all begin howling...they sound like a siren. Then I realize there is a siren blaring, and they are merely matching its tone. I rush outside and run into a wall of wind which nearly forces me back inside the cabin. I suddenly remember that my parents are on their way, and run down the highway in the direction from which they are coming...I see the tornado. Not at all like the pretty CGI mockery from Twister, this bad boy is apocalyptic in size, radiating malevolence. It wants them dead.

I find their car trapped beneath a fallen overpass. The roof is caved in, but I can see they're alive. The overpass saved them, since other vehicles are being swept into the sky and crushed like empty beer cans. I can't get theeir door open! I rip my hands to ribbons trying to breach their vehicle, but nothing works. I feel sick and weak and scared, and I can't summon the strength to break their windshield. They're bleeding inside the car. I look for a hammer, a piece of pipe, anything to use as a tool...a crutch, but everything is gone into the tornado, and the tornado is almost above us. At the last moment, I have to run for safety. The cyclone above pulls at me, slowing me to a crawl, and finally to stillness, flat on the ground and grabbing at blades of grass to stay rooted to earth. The last thing I see before I lose my grip is the round cabin, and I wonder who is going to take care of my babies if I don't live through this?

It was a very wierd dream; everything was mixed up.

It was two years ago, I was at a Matric Dance, and my partner (my brother) was dressed up as Elvis. Everyone kept commenting about how nice my boyfriend was, and how good looking he was, and how lucky I was to be with Elvis (I don't like Elvis by the way). Anyway, as the dream went on, I found out that Elvis was actually my father, but wanted me to believe that he was my brother for legal reasons. The next thing I knew, we were on the beach, drinking Vodka, and watching the sunset. As the sun was busy setting, he stood up, sat down closer to me, and asked me to marry him. I said yes, and we were both incredibly happy, until the time came for our honey moon, as we both felt a little strange.

The next thing I knew, I was lying in the hospital, waiting to give birth to his child. There was a waiting period at the hospital, because there were quite a few women giving birth, and I was number 22 in line. Once I had my child, I got to hold him, and he looked identical to Elvis, but had a tiny body.

I then woke up. I don't have a crazy obsession with Elvis, I just found this dream very wierd.

Log in or register to write something here or to contact authors.