The latest in a series of particularly strange and vivid dreams came last night. My father had taken me to a strip club, not something that would be normal in our family. After a minute, he ordered lap dances for both of us. He got his first, then the cute asian girl came over to me. She started to dance for a second, then stopped. She leaned up and said, in a language that I've never heard before but somehow understood, something to the effect of, "I know you're a space alien." The English translation actually appeared to me in the dream as subtitles, but I didn't need them.
For a moment I carefully considered the possibility that I was an alien but hadn't known it. Somehow it made sense. The girl then giggled and walked off, leaving me confused and a bit dissappointed that I hadn't received my dance.
In another one from a few days ago, my mom and I were at her house, where I grew up, exploring the attic. As we were browsing through some box, an old dog came up behind us and dropped its food dish at our feet. Though it looked quite normal, it was plainly obvious to both of us that this was the dead dog that had once belonged to the house's previous owners. This was mildly creepy, but we weren't scared.
Later, when we were out of the attic, I wondered why we assumed the dog was dead and why we hadn't gone to get it some food. I asked my mother, and she said, "I didn't feel the presence of its life force." That made sense to me.
That night I went back up to the attic, to find that a group of long-dead historical figures had gathered there. They came to attend a class I was to teach about the world of the living in modern times. They looked lifelike, but most of them were a little worse for wear. I had some scars and my head was in bandages from an accident that had happened that day (in the dream). Because of this, I had to assure them that I was in fact still living. One of the great classical composers, perhaps Mozart or Beethoven was in attendance. His body rose up out of his piano and he played a bit before the class commenced. (The music he played was not classical, but rather something like you heard in the old Western saloons in the movies.) Cleopatra was also there, receiving cunnilingus from some dead fellow.
These dreams have had a completely different feel than my usual ones, and I have remembered them mush more clearly than I usually do. I have a feeling that they are somehow a sign of an approaching novel point in my life.