Are you sure it wasn’t a stoat ? That would explain it.
Heres mine.
It is against the rules of The Dope to post a pic of a dead rat wearing a suit.
Yes, that was my dream.
I am totally open to it being a stoat. Or even a marten, since in Germany at least they famously tear up car engines.
Last night I dreamed that there were not only a lot of men playing tackle football in a giant living room, but even dogs playing as “linemen” in the game as well and biting each other quite viciously, to the point where their fur was all reddened with blood and they had gaping abdominal wounds. My parents, however, thought it was perfectly fine for the dogs to be ripping each other this way and saw no problem.
A few weeks ago, I dreamed I’d been living with a group of low-level criminals, like car thieves, in a house of about 10 or 20 of them, and I’d successfully infiltrated and they were cool with me being there. Then Jessica Tandy comes to me, and her eyes are literally glowing. She says she had a psychic vision that I had to host a Kamala fundraiser in that house, for just those 20 people, and it would make or break the election. So I organized it, and Hillary Clinton, Michelle Obama, and Kiri Te Kanawa all came in glittering evening gowns and sang an aria together. It was fabulous, and it worked – the whole house of criminals became Kamala supporters.
I had a weird but rather pleasant one a couple of nights ago. The first part of it, I don’t remember most of the details, but there was something about some unusually intelligent (as in, they could follow full human conversations, that weren’t about food, prey animals, or walks) cats and dogs, who enjoyed snuggling.
Then somehow it transitioned to a Boy Scout camping trip, and our campsite had a Rapid Transit (Cleveland’s public rail transit system) stop at it. I remember that it was the second-to-last stop on the line, either the Blue or Green Line, and that it was 40 miles from the next stop closer to town. The campsite was in a wooded area, about what you’d expect from a campsite, except that the local wildlife included sloths. At one point in the dream, a group of us had to run in the rain from the sheltered area where you get on and off the trains to the station building where you buy tickets and the like (I’m not sure where our tents were relative to either).
I’d actually been trying to remember this dream for a couple of days (all I could remember was that it was rather a fun one), and couldn’t get any details until today, I saw a different Rapid station, and it all came back.
It has been years since I have remembered a dream and this one was very brief but it felt so real. I dreamt I could fly and I could hover like a hummingbird. As I was hovering in the dream, I realized that I could fly and how wonderful it felt. As I woke, the wonderful feeling lingered for just a moment.
I wish I dreamt more.
Did you have to flap your arms rapidly to accomplish that?
No, no wings, no flapping.
I had a meta-dream. I dreamt that I had a nightmare that I was semi-paralyzed. I had a third arm on top of my right arm, weighing down my whole right side so that I could hardly move.
Then in my dream I woke up and the third arm was gone and I could move again. I told people about the third arm nightmare. Someone told me that the third arm was an evil spirit and not to go to sleep again. I asked “How can I live without sleep?” and they told me about a special potion that would help.
I woke up wondering how I would find the potion and then relieved to be awake.
OK, this seems like the most plausible relatively recent thread so I’m going to bump this one.
I just had an entirely pleasant dream about dying.
I’m usually very tired after farmers’ market – by the time I get home and get the van unloaded, any groceries put away, irrigation turned on, various creatures let in and out, etc. I’ve usually been going for ten hours or longer on about half as much sleep as I need. So, as I often do after market, I lay down for a nap.
I dreamed that it was some time in the future (yes, tenses get weird in dreams) and I was lying in bed and dying. I knew I was dying; and I was OK with that; it seemed like the right time for me to die, and nothing hurt, I was just giving out. And there was a Siamese cat in the bed with me, curled up next to my chest as I lay on my side with an arm around the cat; the cat was purring.
When I was a baby, we had a Siamese cat who used to sleep in the room with me; if I woke up and cried, the cat would start meowing, and would go get my mother so my mother could come take care of whatever I was crying about. That cat died when I was about three; I only faintly remember her, but I know she helped raise me.
In the dream, I thought the cat curled up with me might be that cat, come back to help me through the process of dying. And also, simultaneously in the dream, I thought the cat might be some other Siamese cat; but I felt that in either case I was very glad to have the cat there with me helping me to die. I tried to pat the cat, to show how glad I was to have them there, but I was so far gone that I couldn’t move; but that was all right also, because the cat was purring and obviously very comfortable and also glad to be there.
Then everything went kind of orange and I knew that was it.
Then I woke up. And I was holding, in the same fashion, one of my familiar living cats curled up next to me just as the Siamese had been; except that he wasn’t purring, at least, not until I started patting him.
– now I’m hoping that when I do die I get to go like that. Though ideally not too soon.
My most vivid, realistic dream ever (many years ago) was also about death. In the dream, my uncle, to whom I’ve always been very close, had just died, and I was walking to the funeral. At the particular moment of the dream, I was standing at the end of a bridge, looking off the edge, and just sort of generally being contemplative and sad. There was nothing surreal or unrealistic or out of place, like there usually is in a dream, just a perfectly-rendered vignette of that one moment in time.
Well, eventually my uncle is going to die, and when he does, he’ll certainly have a funeral at the church we go to, and I’ll probably be walking the few blocks from my mom’s house to the church, a route that takes us over that specific bridge, which really does look exactly like it did in the dream.