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I was in someone's kitchen. It was a strange place I'd never been. I was a man, maybe in my 30's. I was at the counter with a pen and paper as though I were making a list or writing a note. I had a blank sheet of paper, and on it I had drawn the outline of a baby. There was a reggae song playing in the background. The only thing I remember is the beginning of the chorus. "Lovin' on an island."
Suddenly, the lights dimmed and turned red. The whole room was red lit and hard to see in, as though it were being lit by nothing but red party bulbs. The music was still playing, but it was muffled sounding. The baby rose up out of the paper suddenly three dimentional and life-size, and hovered in front of me, but it was blank, hairless and featureless, just like the rough outline of one I'd drawn. It's foot brushed against me, and it sort of felt like warm flesh, but strange. I started screaming and ran out of the kitchen.
The hallway was nowhere I've ever been either. It was narrow and beige carpeted with white walls, leading to an enclosed carpeted staircase to the right. I ran into a woman on these stairs. She was about my age and wore her hair in light ringlets. She was intent about something, though I couldn't understand her. I kept backing away from her and she kept following. She backed me into the hallway. As we passed the kitchen door on my left, the door was cracked and red light poured into the hall and over us. At this moment, the woman's face turned blue and she started screaming, without looking away from me.
She backed me out the door of the house, and I had to kill her with a shovel to make her stop. I knew somehow this would only make things worse. Even though she was dead, I saw her hold her breath and bare down. When she did, two bubbles shaped like the rough outlines of a baby's feet began to protrude from the blue flesh of her throat. I had to beat them down with the shovel.
Then I was in a psychiatric hospital with electrodes hooked up to me. They were talking about me. "This man is mormon... several marriages... history of mistreating women. His baby was stillborn and he snapped and murdered his wife."
They did something to my brain with the electrodes to induce an "episode." The baby appeared again, out of thin air, and I started screaming.
In the next dream I had, I had to go to work or school, but had just finished running from one side of the town I live in all the way to the other and back again. The sun was just coming up, and something crazy just inspired me to do it. I didn't want to go to work because I was more exhausted than I'd ever been. Then I woke up still feeling this tired.
The weirdest thing about the first dream is that every aspect was completely foreign. The places were strange, the people were strange. Even the song was strange. I looked it up on the internet and found nothing, except a song where the chorus is "Livin on and Island" instead of "Lovin on an Island." It didn't sound anything like it. Very scary dream.
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1: I was hiking with my parents and sister. I was proud of this road I found to walk along, which went along a creek, up a mountain, up to a railroad track where we can take a "Turkish" train ride, sort of like a roller coaster. the guy who let us on spoke French. We rode the train down a long series of exciting hills and back up. On the way up we saw giant blue and pink flowers. I wanted to get a picture laying inside one of these flowers. Jenna started to ask me questions about Jesus. I was weirded out by this. She said that she was thinking of becoming Christian. I expressed the damage that I felt Christianity and other organized religion had done to society, and wondered why and how she would randomly start believing in mystical stuff.
Suddenly I was in this same scene lying on top of a ledge beneath a cliff getting sun when a red car or truck started creeping over the edge of the cliff above me. My sister was down below yelling at me to move, but I didn't think the person would actually drive off the edge of the cliff. They did, and barely missed me on their way down to the ground, hitting my ledge. It was a couple trying to kill themselves, and they hadn't succeeded. I got down from the cliff ledge and chased after them with a part from their broken car and beat them unconscious with it so they couldn't kill themselves. Then I got help from a house that was next to them. While I was explaining to the people in the house what was happening, and that they needed to get help for this suicidal couple, the couple regained consciousness simultaneously and I had to beat them unconscious with the car part again. They stayed passed out this time, and I left them in the front yard for the people who lived there to deal with them. I briefly woke up, drenched in sweat.
2: I was taking a house tour through my dad's (deceased) parents' old house with my boyfriend, a few acquaintances, and the people who were trying to sell it. My boyfriend was very interested in the house, and the acquaintances were somewhat interested. I wasn't interested at all, because I had a lifetime of memories in this house, including the fact that two of my relatives, including my granddad, had died here. We went through a door in a far corner of his bedroom where I didn't normally go throughout my life. It led to a gigantic middle floor that I had never known existed. I was shocked, and telling the people around me that I'd spent my entire life going to this house on a regular basis, and had no idea there was a gigantic middle floor. It had a bar, and a railed landing that wrapped around a 20 ft. high ceiling. The guy giving the tour explained that there would often be a secret floor in houses of my grandfather's generation, where only select adult friends of the couple were allowed to go.
3: I was on a high school trip to large city somewhere, and we were in a theater watching a movie on a huge screen. There were no chairs in the back where I was sitting, and a bunch of us were crowded together on the floor. A girl named Tara that I used to go to school with was sitting to the right of me, and told me that she was so sensitive about movies that she laughed and cried through literally all of them. She kept reacting this way to every scene, and it was getting on my nerves. Then there was a scene where someone got crushed by a boulder, and Tara said it was gonna make her barf. I tried to move away from her, but she still barfed on me a little. I was really upset and got as far away from her as possible. Other people seemed annoyed that I wasn't helping her or helping clean it up. I told them I had a barf phobia and to leave me alone.
Then the group of us were walking along a street on the outskirts of this city, and Tara kept getting really close to me with her barfy clothes still on, and accusing me of being a jerk for not helping her. I tried to be nice, but then my friend told her he hated her and thought she was stupid, and that she should get the crap away from us. Instead of feeling bad, I just wished I had been that mean to begin with.
Some people on the side of the road started shooting the group of us with water guns, just to be mean. The wanna-be tough preppy guys in our group grabbed their water guns away from them and chased them with the water guns. We followed them trying to get them to rejoin the group, and suddenly realized they had led us into a really bad part of town. They accidentally hit some people with their water guns who pulled out real guns and started shooting at us. We all managed to get away.
Then we went into a store of some sort, where a person came in with a gun and made us lay on the ground while he robbed the place. He took one of us hostage and she was so scared. I felt really bad for her. I didn't think he would shoot her, but he did, in the head, and she was still alive, but just barely. I woke up again, even more drenched in sweat this time.
I slipped back into this dream then, and we were all on the bus going home. The principal showed us a giant file where we had all committed a crime of some sort on the field trip. I looked through it and one of mine was not helping the sick girl. I argued about the logistics of this being a crime, and the principal decided to take it out of the "crime files." The last thing I remember is searching through the files to find what other "crimes" I had committed.