2026 2025 2024

Alright, yes, I finished watching Search Party, so it's inevitable someone would show up in my dream. However, sometimes it wasn't Christine Taylor, sometimes it was Alicia Silverstone.
I think the dream started out at this family's house, a family I was visiting or babysitting for? I can't remember, but I had a duffel bag. Time passed, the family was pleasant enough. It's night now, and the atmosphere is tense. I can't remember what spurred it, but the mother (looked just like Christine Taylor) tried to attack me with a knife. I ran from her, passing the dad in the living room. He stood calmly, staring at me. I ran further into the house. The little girl was staring at me from inside a room, in the dark. The older brother was soemwhere in pursuit of me now, too.

I'm in the basement now, looking for a window to escape or a place to hide. It's a massive basement, mostly unfinished, with laundry everywhere. I'm hiding amongst baskets and piles of clothes when the brother comes down. He searches briefly, then disappears somewhere around a corner. I take this as my chance to leave, but when I turn around to see if the brother had never left, he slowly rose from a pile of clothes, flustered at seeing me, and seemed to scramble around to find a pair of shoes? I ran with no hesitation, but my legs felt like molassess as they carried me, but I was actually running quickly. I made it to the door stoop of the split level home, the little girl now by the door with a stuffed animal, looking pissed. I tear open the door and practically throw myself out into the early evening, the cool air sending me into survival mode.

Before even leaving the driveway, I'm eyeing which house is the safest bet. I realize none of these houses are safe; they're all in on it. I crouch, like that makes a difference, and creep my way across the street, seeing a house with a yard that looks accesible. I figure I can snake my way through the backyards of these homes, hoping I'm strong enough to hop the fences. Before I make it to the house across the street, I spot a neighbor next to it, holding her phone up to her ear and looking around frantically. I knew it. I make it to the other house, wrap my way around, hop fences somehow, and hitch a ride once I'm about a mile from the neighborhood. Not far enough. The person who picked me up is squirmy, so I ask to be left off at a gas station. They wont let me. I make a scene, forcing them to pull over, and yank the door open. It's miraculously unlocked, and I bolt to the gas station up the road. It's dark now, the night illuminated by flourescent street lamps. A car is driving wrecklessly, maneuvering the small amount of traffic I see in the distance. It must be the family, or just the mother... I start crying as I'm running, limping slightly from falling and hitting against things in my pursuit.

Time passes and I've walked all the way home, to my actual home. I've rarely dreamt of my house for exactly as it is. Once inside, no one was home. I was feeling cornered, since there are no good hiding spots. Just the big tub in the master bath, so I make my way there. I leave everything as is, any lights that were on or off stay that way. I pile towels into the tub, get in, and pile more on top of me. A soft light is coming in from the attached bedroom, so I won't know if someone is here unless they cast a shadow or make noise. It's oddly comforting, yet terrifying. I call my mom, who sounds tired or drugged, and she calls the cops for me. We stay on the line, with me hushing every now and then to hear if anyone is in the house. No one ever found me, and I woke up before the dream ended.

Even though people were trying to kill me, the overall feel of the dream was that I was being chased and needed to escape. That could signify avoidance, ironic considering the last dream I remember was about feeling protective of myself and fearing change in my life. It could be avoidance to many things, but the other interpretation was running from myself, so some sort of unwillingness to confront something within myself. Ugh... also, to die in a dream could mean transformation or growth, and my avoiding my murder is like being afraid of personal growth? Yikes. Another interpretation to being killed is that my conscience and emotions are disconnected. There's a plethora of other reasons, like wanting to get rid of habits or old parts of yourself. It could also be that I've felt let down or betrayed by someone. They all make sense to an extent, unfortunately.

This dream was chaotic and pieced together so randomly, but I'll try my best to organize it into words. I started out in a car with a friend and my dog, crammed like sardines in a traffic jam. I can't tell if we're running away in this moment or just stuck in traffic. I'm concerned about my dog, and before I know it, she's not in my lap anymore, she's outside the car walking along the highway because... she's now a T-rex. I'm telling my friend how worried I am about her, that other people will hurt her or she might step on someone. Next thing I know is we hear this boom, turn around, and the city behind us is being destroyed by 3 dragons. Not other dinosaurs, not a 3-headed dragon, but 3 wholly seperate dragons. The boom was the first building they destroyed, but they slowly moved to knock over whatever was in their path.

It was fairly far away by that point, but then the lense or angle of the dream shifted and zoomed in on the dragons. I whispered to my friend, almost afraid I'd be heard, "I hope they don't come this way." Almost comically, if not for the sheer size and detail of them, they raised their heads in my direction. I yelled that we needed to run by foot, as other people had already abandoned their cars. Other people noticed the dragons shift their attention our way, so the chaos just escalated as people fled for their lives. I kept shouting for my dog, now T-rex, to follow us, but she was too interested in the dragons. Just staring at them. My friend and I ran for it, seeking shelter in a nearby neighborhood. The night shifted to early morning as we arrived, exhausted and fearful.

Somehow we stumbled onto a friend's house, and from there, the dream shifted completely. No more destruction happening outside, just friends hanging out on a weekend. There was some commotion, like I felt this urgency to shower and change clothes. The sense of seeking shelter hadn't fully left me yet, but eventually I forgot what had happened. I don't even want to get into the rest of it cause it's EMBARASSING. The dream was cozy and felt real going forward, and when I woke up, I was depressed it was over. I fell back to sleep to dream about it some more but I couldn't really, too much of a migraine to fall asleep again. I just... dragons? Dog turned dinosaur? Then completely calm and even happy? Not sure if I miss these kind of dreams. They upend the rest of my day cause I can't stop thinking about them. They usually give me some fuel to draw but I just feel... duped.

I haven't ended any of these entries with interpretations, and I think I'd like to start doing that. Mostly it's because I know exactly what the symbolism is; it's annoyingly obvious, most of the time. The dragons stumped me though, and after looking it up, it makes sense. I feel the need to be protected. I am the treasure, and that somewhat makes sense, as the dragons didn't actually pursue us. They kept destroying the city; a modern landscape that houses many of my fears. Sexual drive and/or anger were absolutely at play, considering what happened in the other half of the dream... Courage to "defeat the beast within" also makes sense, as I'm constantly battling anxiety, depression and pain. And the one that makes the broadest speculation, the conquest of good over evil.

Recently I've been fearing about our door being broken down, people breaking in, that type of thing... this time it wasn't a mix of comfort and dread. Straight up dread with a bit of rage in this one. I was living in a cool, yet dilapitated, A-frame at the beach; starving artist to the T. I was just going about my business when I hear my front door being fiddled with, and a greasy man walks in nonchalantly, as if he owns the place. He makes eye contact with me, and hurries up the stairs that are in front of the door. I scream at him to leave, and what does he think he's doing?? He sort of pauses but starts to come back down since I won't stop shrieking about calling the cops, phone in hand, 911 already dialed... so he pulls out a gun. And I do too???

I don't even remember if we shot each other but I sort of remember the guns not being there all of a sudden, replaced with knives. I lunged at him. I remember my heart racing and the sick twisted grin on the guy's dirty, unshaven face... how his thin, greasy, black hair draped against his neck and shoulders, plastered to the rest of his head with a filthy baseball cap. I can't believe how vividly I remember his filthiness. Yet I can't remember smelling him. I can only imagine it would probably be a combination of stale sweat, beer, cigarettes, armpit and ass. What a terrible nightmare, but it's kinda cool I went into fight mode for once instead of freeze mode.

I woke up in a different room, yet knowing it was mine, to some noise. It came from downstairs, or maybe the hallway? When I opened the door to look, the hallway stretched on for a long time. Dimly lit and eventually rounded to a small landing with a staircase going down. The home was very old, maybe 1910's, but refurbished in the late 70s? I just stared down into the hallway, somewhat against my will, for awhile. Until a tall, broad silhouette came barrelling towards me from the darkness. I couldn't even shut the door in time, only able to stagger backwards before being held in a vice-like grip, arms pinned to my sides, face smushed against fabric. It was difficult to breathe but the figure assured me "it's just me" and that everything was fine. I didn't know who they were in the dream, but their smell and their voice were comforting, even though their grip on me was borderline-abusive. I was getting dizzy and tried to struggle but they just kept saying it would be okay, never breaking their tight hold around me. I remember thinking why did it feel so right and so wrong at the same time? Obviously now it's because I was being squished to death, but being held and told it was going to be okay felt like something I needed. Conflicting all around.

I can probably chalk this up to going through weed withdrawals as I've been too sick to smoke, but my dreams have been weird since I can remember, so... This dream was in third person view, while most, if not all of my dreams are in first person view. I'm in this dark, murky, flooded basement. It looks like a combination of basements. One I've been in before, in an old home, so the basement was completely unfinished. Cement floors, exposed ceiling and walls, rafters all visible. But the basement in the dream also slightly reminded me of a lower deck of a ship, like say in Treasure Planet. It was nighttime though, and it seemed like the only light coming in was from the moonlight from the tiny windows scattered throughout. I think I was working down there, on something, for someone, but I can't recall if it was a full-time job or just a project. I can't even remember if I was kidnapped or forced to stay down there. I do remember feeling like I couldn't leave, though, like if I did something terrible might happen.

I hate to admit it, but the dream had an aura of one of my exes... like he was there, the one keeping me there, or observing me from the shadows, or did he interact with me? It also felt like the basement was rocking, as if it actually was a ship. The layer of water that was pooling on the ground was inky, thick, not meant to be walked through, but I had no choice when it was time to move around. I was mostly stationed at a table, tinkering away on something. A light fixture? Furniture? I was using all kinds of tools, though, things I do not use in real life often, if ever. The soldering is what piqued my curiosity the most. But I can't remember what the thing I was working on looked like. When I did need to get up, I trudged through the water, not understanding if I was too tired to walk normal or it was just that thick. I would move in careful motions, like I didn't want to bang into the walls or other furniture and tools around me. I made a few attempts to walk toward the stairs, but each time I hesitated and went back to what I was doing. It was a fever dream for sure. I woke up drenched in sweat.

This is a somewhat recurring dream. The aura of this dream centered on an ex. I can't remember if the home I was visiting was his, his mom's, his grandma's, or what... but it was in awful condition. Looked rotten, completely unliveable. The inside was much better, with less rot but more clutter. I think the house was up for sale, and for some reason that's why I went; to see how bad things got? Or was I just invited for another reason? I don't remember seeing him other than being invited inside, but maybe that wasn't even him? Inside, the house was full of things but empty of life. I got the impression someone died there, and that's why it was abandoned or in such bad shape.

This one has been one of the weirdest dreams I've had, as well as insanely vivid in colors and sensations. It started out as a class trip on a cruise trip. Things quickly devolved into... the ship suddenly becoming a circular spaceship, like in Elysium. But it was haphazard and totally unsafe and things were way out of proprtion. As the ship is propelling forward, no longer in the water but up in the sky, the surface of the ship is rotating the opposite direction. Enormous elephants, easily 100 feet tall and decked out in circus attire, march along the surface in my and my classmates direction. I also have a kitten with me for some reason. There is no time to think and no room to the sides to dodge the elephants, so we're all scrambling and screaming and crying trying to avoid getting trampled to death. Somehow we all survived and hunkered down in a huge suite that had several bunkbeds. I had lost my kitten and was hysterical until I found her again, as well as another kitten.

A school dream, more specifically, a dorm dream. And the weather was miserable, but not torrential, just drizzly and constant. I was traversing between class buildings and the dorm a lot, as if I had 5 classes in a day. I was getting lost in between the street blocks, taking the wrong turns, going too far, back tracking; it was misery looking back on it, but in the moment I felt determined to get back to my dorm, slightly annoyed by the rain. The dorm would change in height and location; generally looked like a diffeernt building each time I went back to it. But every time I went back, I had the hardest time getting in. I would forget my code, or my key, or something always went wrong to delay me. I never worried about being late though, I was completely fixated on getting back into the dorm.

A recurring dream revolving around an ex and his house. I'm in the house, but it's nothing like it really was. I know this in the dream too but am unbothered by it, more in awe of all the stuff cluttering the floors, piling to the ceilings in some areas. For some reason, the majority of the clutter was dining chairs, dressers, cabinets, nightstands and floor-length mirrors. The dust and cobwebs were thick, but that didn't deter myself, my ex and a few other people from hiding within the spaces between. That's because we were being chased, but we didn't know by what. The others were more aware of it than me, but this sense of dread, like I could die if i didn't hide with them, was unmistakeable. I don't remember what happened after we hid, just the long wait for something to jump out and grab us.

I remember having this dream about a new friend, but their face and personality were warped, so it basically was a different person. We were driving around in a sleeper van along the shoreline of a beach. We had a few cats with us, can't remember how many but maybe 2 or 3. We found more but every time we pulled over, the other cats got out, and we had to wrangle them back in. Eventually we lost one and I couldn't accept that.

A recurring dream about an ex and his house, basically a continuation from the last dream. I'm able to explore the house more now, it's daylight rather than nighttime, and it's a bit more clean inside. I'm unreasonably fascinated by the fact that my ex's mom's master bathroom is connected to her room, the main hallway, and a secret hallway; the ghost hallway. I'm in the bathroom a good while, standing and pacing, pondering the magical third door that I know will lead to some place I won't be comfortable in. I enter it, and it's the same hallway, but gently lit up from a window at the end of the hallway. There are maybe 6 doors, but the end one of the left intrigues me. I know my ex is in there. I know it's actually his room. I make my way down the hallway, breathing in the slightly musty air, tinged with cedar from the wood linig the walls. I open his door slowly and quietly, and he's just sitting there at his desk in front of the window. He turns to acknowledge me but turns around again right after, like he didn't really see me, almost like I'm not really there.

A recurring dream about an ex and his house, almost identical to the last one. This time, though, I'm able to move down the hallway. My eyes are still barely adjusted to the darkness, and I'm basically groping for a door handle in the pitch black. I eventually find one and open it, the stale air from within greeting my face like a wet towel. It's slightly musty, not quite moldy. The moonlight from the window softly illuminates a bed, nightstand, and tall wardrobe. The room is supposed to be small, I can feel it, but it's expansive, almost intimidating. I want to step inside and explore, but some force inside me screams to not enter. I place my foot inside and feel uncomfortable, like I made a mistake I can't take back, even though all I have to do is move my foot back. I'm stuck like this, one foot in, staring inside the room, like I'm waiting for something to emerge from the closet or from under the bed.

A recurring dream about an ex and his house. This was the one where I understood it was my ex's home. Before, I wasn't sure whose home I was in. Maybe it wasn't my ex's, and my mind just carried the same qualities of the building over. Whatever the case, this home was haunted. A quiet, deafening silence, with all the lights turned off, begging to not be flicked on. This heavy, thick feeling of unease swarms me, swaddles me in layers, like I'm feeling hot, then cold, then nothing at all. Holding my breath indefinitely. Feet caught in an invisible glue trap, slowly lifitng my legs to go further, to get closer to the impending doom... why? Why was I trying so hard to venture down that hallway, that was never used, with bedrooms that weren't lived in anymore, for no reason other than they weren't acknowledged. I was too curious. Why weren't they used? Why were they haunted? Could I see the ghost if I tried? I don't make it far. I can't even turn the hallway light on, just stand there, hand hovering over the switch, staring into darkness, waiting for my eyes to adjust.

A dorm dream, focused on my repeated attempts to get into my dorm room. I remember being stuck on the floor of my dorm, sometimes a random floor, which was unusually small. The elevator was having a hard time and the stairs weren't an option for whatever reason. Felt like fear? Even getting on the antique elevator made me nervous; I just remember the dark painted wooden walls with deep moss green panels, and equally mossy low pile carpet made the space feel even tinier. One window on each floor, partially obstructed by the fire escape. 3 doors on each floor, so it would seem to be a small building. From the outside it looked much bigger, in any appearance it took. Once I was finally able to get back in, it was much lighter and brighter. Pale grey walls, concrete flooring, and cliche dorm rugs throughout. A huge window in the main room and bedroom. It was a weird timeline of having roommates, then just me and my cat. But it kept jumping around and sometimes I'd go back to find the multiple roommates, and other times be blissfully happy to find I lived alone. It became a weird, stressful chain of events. Sometimes I thought my roommates were going through my things or eating my food. Sometimes I thought they recorded me through hidden cameras. Confronting them was usually met with a mix of gaslighting, or them being innocent and me being paranoid. The dorm was quite messy and erratic when I had roommates. It was much tidier and felt more welcoming when it was just me... I found myself consumed by fear if I would come back to the roommates.