On the matter of dreams

Most people might notice that I don't comment on my dreams. Maybe it is for the fact that I used to have horrible nightmares of the things I saw in Iraq. Though, I do tend to have prophetic dreams sometimes, others have been like past life memories, and I been lucid dreaming since I was a child.

One of the dreams that I can remember was this one…

I was walking down a cobble stone street at night. Fog saturated the air and my footsteps seemed to echo on into eternity. I know that I am dressed in gentleman’s clothing. Such as a top hat and the like.

I heard a quick scuffle of footsteps behind me and someone grabs my chin pulling me back. The sharp pain as a knife enters into my right, lower back in an upward motion. I fall forward and see stars as my head hits the stone. I can feel the coldness of it against my cheek.

I try to push myself up on my elbows and feel faint. My vision begins to dim and the pain in my back begins to fade to a dull ache. I fight against the growing sense of the darkness that is enveloping me, but I can’t hold onto my life force any longer. My arms fail me and I fall back down. I never feel myself hitting the stone again.

Just coldness and then I awake in a cold sweat with the pain in my back beginning anew, sharp and distinct.

Dear Daeraug,

It sounds more like a memory implant than an actual dream. It think that there are Souls out there that feel certain sympatheties witch some kindred souls and so they make gifts of what could be understood as Memory Packages. They give a gift of their memory to dreamers with whom they feel some affinity.

So some old deceased Gentleman shared the experience of his death with you.

In an actual dream, you would have lived through it. I've been shot in the head with a hunting rifle in my dreams -- the back of my head blown clear off so that when I would open my mouth, light would shine through. I was down for a minute, and then realized I wasn't dead and went and found a wash room and cleaned myself up... still with the back of my head missing.

My next several dreams repeated the same theme -- that nothing can kill a Dreamer. I was even run over by a train. Later the dreams became amusing -- I would be in the lobby of a large building when suddenly it would be raided by Feminist Commandos. I would decide to go right where the Feminist only had a carbine, instead of left where the Feminists had outright machine guns... but BAM BAM BAM BAM BAM BAM, I would realize that carbines can feed out a lot of bullets in a pretty short time too... but I wouldn't die.

Finding that one does not die in a dream invests one with a intruitive courage thence forward in one's dreams.

umm... Thanks for your comments. Not sure what point you were trying to make, but it was interesting. :wtf: