That’s right folks, I want to see you post your… old dreams.
I was very young, 4 or 5, and I was taking a nap in the afternoon. In my dream my mom told me she would only ever make spaghetti and meatballs for dinner for the rest of my life. I liked spaghetti and meatballs, but I didn’t want to eat only that forever. My grandmother woke me up because I was crying in my sleep.
This is my earliest memory.
I dreamed a dog bit me and everything went dark and I died.
How do you know you died if everything was dark?
Its weird how one just know stuff in dreams despite having no evidence. Sometimes I might even realise it was false when I wake up, despite being completely sure its true while in the dreaming.
Yeah it was just that weird omnipotent dream knowledge.
But what intrigues me is you seem to be suggesting that I would need light to see if I was dead? But how can you see once you’re dead?
So when I was little my room was arranged in a way that if I was in bed, my head was opposite the door. I would sleep with the door open so lying on my side I was looking out onto the landing. Our stairs were just outside my door and they were open to the living room below, I found the light and the vague murmuring of the tv to be comforting I guess.
Until I started having this recurring dream. I’d be lying in bed, looking out at the dimly-lit landing as per. I’d hear the tv get turned off and my parents start to climb the stairs, also as per. But when they got to the top and came into view they wouldn’t be my parents at all, they were…dun dun duuuuuun…big scary dragons! They’d see me looking and come into my room and stand menacingly over me, and then I’d wake up.
I started shutting my bedroom door after that.
So there used to be this cartoon called Silverhawks, which was about these dudes who are partially made of metal and they can fly.
First dream I can remember, I was at the doctor and they wanted to give me a shot in my leg. I was really afraid of needles at the time, but suddenly I became a Silverhawk. The nurse was trying to stick the needle in my thigh, but my thigh was metal, so her plan was foiled.
For me, it was a reoccurring nightmare that was more of a feeling than some story or vision. It’s really hard to explain, but it always followed the same pattern: I’m doing something (and not in a “doing” way, just some feeling of activity), then this activity somehow starts to speed up until it rushes at an unimaginable speed, and then suddenly comes the realization that this thing is endless and lasts forever, so the speed subsides leaving a lingering feeling of dread and despair.
I remember trying to describe it using this metaphor as a kid (again, nothing here is literal): I’m walking somewhere, first normally, and then speeding up, with walking morphing into an exhaustive and panicked run, until the realization that the destination is only getting further the faster you run hits, so I go back to walking, but feeling crushed at this realization.
I also remember describing or thinking about these dreams in other ways, like flipping through pages of some important book ever faster, until it dawns on me that the book is in fact infinite, for example. Or exerting more and more effort to think of some specific word until I realize that it doesn’t exist. Stuff like that.
Idk. It was such a weird thing.
