My wife and I rarely remember our dreams, but last night she had a vivid one about a disabled dog who was living under our bed and I had one about living next to a famous historical residence and having some neighbors being hunted by the law (the dream ended with the police showing up and questioning me).
Given that my dreams are always B-O-RING, this was a pretty eventful night.
I usually have a couple of weird dreams per week. Here’s a recent one that I remember:
Bicycling on a road that was undergoing widening/repaving work, avoiding the stripped pavement as much as possible. All of a sudden, I heard a roaring engine behind me. I looked around and there’s a big, yellow road construction vehicle of some sort menacingly approaching. “Oh, shit!” think I and ride into the grass. The construction crew found this really funny.
I stayed in the grass, which was level whereas the road wasn’t, and ride away from the construction site until both road and grass returned to the same plane. Then I realized I have no idea where the hell I am! I looked around and find a road sign but the intersection I was at didn’t sound familiar. I decided to turn left.
That put me on a road headed downhill; the hill became steeper as I descended. I became concerned about my speed and tried like mad to slow down, even using my feet Flintstone style. Nothing worked, and the bottom didn’t seem to be getting any closer.
That’s when I woke up.
A few nights ago I dreamed a very elaborate TV-ready Buffy the Vampire Slayer dream that had Willow and me in the Cyclorama in Atlanta, and an evil ghost turned us into Civil War people doomed to slaughter each other. There might have been somebody else as well, as I recall two women and one man. At the same time I dreamed about watching it on TV and arguing with my dad over whether they used the real Cyclorama location or not, since, hell, they shoot everything on a soundstage even if it did look like the Cyclorama. (In a real Buffy episode it would look like the Bronze with a different color light.) It was all very slick, actually.
I dreamed I visited my older brother, who was recovering from an accident. There was a deep trench up the middle of his face, just to the left of his nose. It looked like a bicycle track from his upper lip to his scalp. Very strange. I almost called him to ask if he was all right.
I didn’t call him. My brothers and I are kinda distant.
I dreamed I had to pee really really bad. I ended up looking for a bathroom in a building where the Daughters of the American Revolution were having a convention. I found the bathroom, except all the toilets were practically overflowing with pee, poop, and toilet paper. I went to a toilet to flush it before using it, and then I saw that the top was off the tank and full of turds. People had shat in the tanks!
Then I woke up and had to pee really really bad.
EVERY TIME my bladder is full and i can’t wake up I always have nasty toilet dreams. The toilets are full of shit and pee and/or there are no privacy doors or walls. Sometimes the toilets are complicated contraptions with straps, controls, pedals, etc.
Scarlett67, if it makes you feel better a friend described a dream a few months ago - about making out with Al Gore 
You ever have one of those dreams that leaves you surprised when you wake up and thinking “That was a dream?!” I had one last week.
In the dream I woke up in a house I used to live in, and got dressed for work. Moments later I discovered that the toliet in the dining room was clogged and I’d have to bail it out before I left for work. So imagine how grumpy I was when I was immediately informed by my mother that I also needed to find one of our (long dead) cats that had run off into the yard. I grumblingly did so, and on the way back into the house one of our other cats turned into a very small bear.
So I woke up thinking “That was a dream?!” pause “Jesus, of course it was! I haven’t lived in that house for 12 years, there was never a toliet in the dining room(!), and one of the dead cats turned into a bear! How could that being a dream be surprising?” Heh.
Last night a long rambling dream ended with the breath-taking image of a Canadian Goose swooping in towards the birdfeeder.
The other night, I dreamed of Luna
Robert Heinlein’s The Moon Is A Harsh Mistress.
Read it a few days ago.
That night, I dreamed of Luna, of running a drill in the mines as a “new chum”, of a red Liberty Cap on my head, of the Warrens, of fighting off the FN.
Been a long time since a novel got into my head that way.
Wow.
That’s funny: Mrs. ToKnow and I are getting a divorce but for now are still in the same house. She told me the other day that she had dreamed there was a polar bear in the house and she and her mom were trying everything they could to get it out, because she just couldn’t keep it any more.
I asked (not entirely jokingly) if she thought I was the polar bear and she said (completely seriously) that I wasn’t.
Up until about 8-years-ago, I was regularly having great, GREAT dreams, waking up feeling like I’m perfectly connected to the universe and that God loves the heck out of me. But no more. My dreams are depressing and I go through the day feeling depressed whilst hoping that the whole ugly cloud will disappear and that I can get back to how things used to be. It’s almost as if someone put a curse on me. :mad:
Last night’s dream featured **Star Trek ** elements, which I confess is not particularly weird for me in and of itself. This was the original series crew of Kirk, Spock, etc., yet not precisely from either the TV show or the movies. In the dream, these were sort of quintessentially idealized versions of the characters, the ultimate synthesis of countless parallel dimensions. Their Enterprise was a ship made of solid energy, designed to explore the space outside existence. They were being pursued by a malevolent, sentient universe, which instinctively knew that by absorbing their essence, it would gain the ability to dominate all other possible universes.
What does a sentient universe look like? I will tell you. It appears as a nested series of glowing, amorphic volumes, like a diagrammatic tensegrity model of an amoeba-- each inside the other like a matroushka doll, surrounded by smaller semi-autonomous organelles. The central volume is colored vivid red, because it’s evil, and the various pseudopods and organelles change colors as it attacks you. It’s rushing at you at unimaginable speed, through the space outside existence, which coincidentally looks a lot like that receding corridor optical effect that the **Doctor Who ** logo flew through during the '70s.
Every time the universe scored a hit on the Enterprise, the reverberations affected countless other universes-- not only their histories, but their physical laws as well. Whatever the nature of the change, it was always evil. I perceived these attacks as alterations in my own life. I saw myself killed in a road accident in one universe, then killed again in a slightly different universe, and again… In one reality, Earth’s ocean simply vanished in an instant, leaving an empty seabed. In another, the properties of space were altered, so I found myself trapped inside a shopping mall which looped back on itself infinitely without an exit. These rather distressing interludes were sort of intercut with the **Star Trek ** vignettes.
(At some point I woke up to use the bathroom, so the Star Trek plot was never adequately resolved.)
Next, I dreamed that I was having lunch in a Thai restaurant, when I spotted a co-worker that I secretly have a futile crush on in real life. She was with a group of her friends, having a great time, and I became intensely depressed that I wasn’t able to participate in any of that. So I got up and crept out of the restaurant before she or anyone else could spot me.
However, I later turned myself into a squirrel and snuck into her house-- in the dream, she lived in a suite of rooms on the top floor of a peculiar building which was also her place of work. It resembled the interior lobby space of a large hotel, and appeared to be some sort of library, as the walls were mostly a network of shelves containing books and such, although strangely some shelf niches were large enough that they contained classic cars instead. It turns out that she already had several other squirrels living in her apartment, so there was some competition.
In another random snippet of dream, probably unrelated to any of the above, my mom asked me to retrieve a crossbow for her. She had accidentally left it in a toolshed in a cemetery, and I needed to get it for her before the sun went down and the zombies came out. Rather surprisingly, I was able to accomplish the task in plenty of time and no zombies were ever actually seen. It was also a pretty featureless and unremarkable cemetery, as my dreams go. Usually my dream cemeteries are vast and foreboding even in broad daylight, labyrinthine necropoli of decaying mausoleums with drifts of bleached bones strewn amid the thickets. This one looked pretty much like a modern memorial garden. Weird indeed…
I don’t have any that aren’t weird. Last night I dreamed that some distant acquaintances from college were ordering me to clean ‘my room’ and leaving big garbage bags for me. Meanwhile, I was upset that someone I knew in high school had apparently committed suicide.
I dreamt I bought a gun “for work” this weekend. I was in a gun store and consulting with someone about the best weapon . . . it was very vivid. I was buying it to protect myself at work.
I am the least likely person to have have a gun IRL. I think I’ve been watching too many Sopranos episodes.
I had a dream I had sex with my wife. That was weird.
That’s the same question I put to myself when I woke up a dream that I was in bed with Augusten Burroughs.
He was a perfect gentleman about the whole thing, even though he was clearly horrified to be in bed with a woman. He kept stroking my earlobes, because at some stage in the past he’d been told that it was a sure-fire way to turn a woman on. He wouldn’t listen to my attempts to direct his stroking to the soft skin behind my ears.
And Mr. Burroughs then morphed into a lovesick 14 year old called Max, who was lying in a hammock, heartbroken because his parents had forbidden him to have an affair with Rudolf Nureyev.
I always like waking up so I can take a look at what my subconscious has been doing while I was asleep.
I was hanging out with Ewan MacGregor a couple of nights ago. Fun guy. I made a joke about how it would be cool if his keyboard could type with a Scottish accent.