Date of dream: Tuesday, March 19, 2013
Level of Lucidity:
N/A
Level of Cohesiveness: 
Rating:
Lucid Intent?
No
This dream has been viewed 89 times.
I was in my car and driving over one of the drawbridges to Palm Beach. The bridge started to open, so I stopped and turned off my engine. A boat passed through. I considered taking pictures of it but kept my camera in my bag. The bridge was really quick, and the bridge closed shortly after the boat passed.
The cars started driving before it was fully down. I was now outside of my car and watching from the other side of the bridge. The bridge got in the down position, but one side kept going down. It fell down below the level it should be at. One car dropped off the edge of the opening, and the lower part fell even more.
The car was still on the road, but it slid backward because the weight made the road dip down at a sharper angle. I got out my camera and started taking pictures. I ran to the shore to get another angle. The car fell in the water, but it wasn't deep. Most of the car stuck out of the water. It was upright too, so the people weren't drowning.
I knew I was shooting in raw. I wondered if I could sell the pictures to the newspaper. I thought of telling them I shot raw and that they'd need to convert them to jpeg in order to print them.
Date of dream: Sunday, April 22, 2012
Level of Lucidity:
N/A
Level of Cohesiveness:
Rating:
Lucid Intent?
No
This dream has been viewed 283 times.
I was in Bastogne at night during World War II. The Germans were bombing the city, though I don't know if it was with mortars or heavy shells. I lived through the bombings and got out of the town. I had to cross a bridge to safety.
The bridge had a lot of damage to it. The walls were cracked and broken. I ducked down below the wall and crawled over the bridge. I didn't want to be seen. I thought the Germans would be able to see me if I stood up because I'd stand out with the explosions in the distance.
Ahead of me on a broken concrete ledge was a cat. It was really angry. I just crawled past it as it swiped at me. I find a bottle of ketchup and spread some on the broken concrete on the bridge so the Germans think it's blood. That way they'll think I'm dead.
I get across the bridge and think of my family. I think of my wife and our two daughters. They died in a bombing. I think about the trip we took and the bombing. I tried to keep them safe, but we got separated. I made it out.
A family on the other side of the bridge helped me to safety. I said war made me think of things differently. Like baking soda, which had somehow been forever changed to me because of war. All I think of is this war. That makes me sad. But the father of that family knows how I feel.
Additional Comments:
I don't know how I knew I was in Bastogne.
I don't have a wife or children.
Date of dream: Wednesday, June 22, 2011
Level of Lucidity:
N/A
Level of Cohesiveness:
Rating:
Lucid Intent?
No
This dream has been viewed 330 times.
I was at bridge similar to the Brooklyn Bridge. The road wasn't straight -- it had curves in it. The bridge was called the Brooklyn Bridge but wasn't really it.
Inside was a staircase. There were maybe 10 steps, then it leveled off, and there were 10 more steps in the other direction. I walked up the staircase until it turned into a steep ramp. I tried to go up the ramp, but it was difficult. I kept sliding down. I was able to run a little, jump and plant one foot halfway up. Then I was able to get my other foot on the level part before there was another ramp.
Someone ahead of me fell down most of the ramps. I could hear here continuing to slide down. I finally climbed up to the top. On the top, there was a hallway that was small and tilted upward. It was difficult to get through it because I had to crawl and the floor was slick. Eventually I made it to a door and entered.
I was inside a huge room with art, aquariums and video games. Some of my friends were inside. They didn't take the difficult stairs. They didn't say how they got there, but they laughed at me for taking the hard way. I walked around and explored the room. There were some Andy Warhol paintings leaning against a wall. There also was a Warhol pinball machine. I played it, but it wasn't very fun. It didn't have electronics, and it seemed rigid. The balls were rusted and tiny. The flippers could be moved left or right, and I kept moving them out of the way of the balls. Julie laughed at my bad pinball skills.
