Violent Escapes

[Cortaigne]

Okay, so, I fairly frequently have two types of "action" dreams. One is fighting off an invasion of some kind -- usually Aliens, Predators/Skaarj, or variations thereof -- and the other is a violent escape. The invasion ones can be pretty cool (blasting away with a minigun at an oncoming herd of quadrupedal horned Aliens is pretty fun, and so is wearing acid-proof industrial gloves to pick up and strangle chestbursters as they try to dash past your legs), but the escape ones can be mentally (and sometimes physically) exhausting, especially since THEY NEVER END until I wake up, so there's never any resolution to the events. A couple of examples: Once, I was in this fairground that had been converted into a concentration camp. There were still some tiny rail lines around the hilly edges of the camp, and they crisscrossed through the interior as well. The ticket booth was still standing at the camp's entrance, and had been integrated into the big fence that surrounded the whole area. There were paved paths that had once been lined by vendor's stands. All that sort of thing. Anyway, me and this one other prisoner plotted a break-out. It involved me distracting one of the guards while my partner snuck up from behind and incapacitated him, then running this old miniature metal passenger car along the rail line and hiding behind it to shield ourselves from bullets until we got as close to the ticket booth as possible. I'm not quite sure what happened to that other guy -- though I don't think he was shot or anything -- but once I got to the ticket booth, I tried desperately to kick out this wooden panel so I could crawl out before the guards got to me. I made it just in time, and ran westward for dear life. I ended up in this big, expensive hotel sort of thing, with two separate buildings, each of them very tall and very wide, with catwalks and stairways and such weaving between them. I managed to elude the Nazi-types that were chasing me by constantly moving up and down and side to side through all these catwalks and stairways, occasionally ducking into the hotels (they had surprisingly cramped hallways), but I realized it was only a matter of time, so I ended up sneaking aboard this bus that was about to leave. Just as it pulls out into traffic, of course I look out the back and see the Nazi-types in their cars chasing after us. I just couldn't get away. I realized I was never going to get away from these guys, because no matter when I think I've finally eluded them, I'll imagine how they might possibly still be following me, and hence, they will be ... which means this is a dream ... and then I woke up. Another time, two or three friends of mine, as well as myself, were all detained into separate empty, sterile, light grey rooms in this hospital sort of place. The door to my room was white, and had a little vertical rectangular window with a diagonal grid of security wire; the window was just above my eye level, so I couldn't quite see out unless I stood on my tiptoes. But I didn't need to see out, because I could hear what was going on outside. From the voices of my friends, the doctors, and the guards, I deduced that they were executing my friends one-by-one by means of lethal injection. Then they came to my door. Just as the doctor stepped in with this big syringe of green fluid, I immediately snatched it from him, spun it around, and stabbed it right into his face, smacking the plunger with my other hand. His skin bulged out from the fluid and had just begun to turn slightly green-blue when I pushed him against one guard and dodged the other to make my way out of the room. I turned right and ran down the hall until I found a door that would let me outside, and just kept running. I was running southward, and ended up going up this steep paved hill that was a parking lot for an apartment building. I'm trying to run up this huge hill, with all these hospital guards and doctors chasing after me, when I realize the situation is hopeless. At that instant, my mind sort of splinters, and I wake up. I have this sort of dream fairly frequently. The exact situations and characters change, but the basic desperate survival thing is pretty constant. The ONLY dream of this kind that I can remember having any sort of resolution -- however temporary it may have been -- was when I was kidnapped by these four mafia guys. I was sitting in the back of their car, with one guy to each side of me, one guy driving, and one guy in the front passenger seat. They pulled up outside my old middle school, and began to get out of the car. The one to my right got out and waved his gun for me to follow. As I did, I grabbed his gun, spun it around, stuffed it up against the base of his sternum, and pulled the trigger. I then very quickly dispatched the other three as they reached into their jackets for their own guns. At that moment, it was clear that I had eliminated the immediate threat, and I was able to breathe. So ... what is this theme supposed to mean? I imagine this should be a fairly common sort of dream, but I recently spent ten bucks on an interpretations book, and it's pretty vague in its entries on "escape," "violence," "guns," "hospitals," etc.

[pinkcheese]

Wow. Very confusing. I don't know if I can translate, but have you tried dreammoods.com ? I hear they're good with stuff like that.