Understand My Dreams basa"d

Dreams nest

Found 182 dreams containing nest - Page 11


Explore a collection of the latest dreams shared by our community. Discover common themes, intriguing narratives, and unique symbolism. From vivid adventures to thought-provoking scenarios, these recent dreams offer a glimpse into the subconscious mind and may even spark insights into your own dream world. Browse the "Latest Dreams" to find inspiration, connect with others, and delve deeper into the fascinating realm of dreams.

In my dream im a soldier and jus as I kill one of the few remaing bad guys, bruce willis (who fought on the same team as myself) shoots me multiple times.i live and manage to shoot him in the head but I need more bullets to kill him.i run awaywith my team to hide but I later c bruce willis tryin to climb out of a window so I push him and when he hits the floor his head explodes.when I go to inestigate he is fine.he staps himself to some explosive so me and my friends drive away in a plane :s e catches up to us and says wer all dead now.as a ghost I visit my mom-she can still c me.

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So I was outside, and it was a beautiful day. It was sunny, and there wasn't a cloud in the sky. I was at some sort of wedding, or some sort of reception, I honestly don't know. There were fold up chairs set up in rows, and I was sitting in one of the aisle seats. All the seats were filled up with well dressed people, and I recall wearing a pretty lavender dress. I remember looking up, and a couple rows ahead, there was man sitting. He turned around, and my view zoomed in completely on just his face; he looked early 30s, and had chin length hair, with a receding hair line. He had glasses, and soft, twinkling eyes. When he turned, he looked at me and smiled a big wide smile. I remember his skin looking smooth. He wasn't exactly handsome, but there was something about him that made me feel comforted. I've never seen this man before in my life, and the strangest part is, the name Isaac came to mind when he looked at me. The dream was so vivid, and it all felt so real

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I dreamt that I was searching for my boyfriend the father of one of my son's and can't find him. I remember only pieces of the dream. I was injected by two different people with two different substances. I couldn't find my children then I found one of them and had to save him from a nest of spider's. The younger one was hidden from me but I found him by his cries. Then my boyfriend returned only to get dressed and leave again. I was angry with him I believed he was leaving to have sex with another woman.

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I was cycling with a basket full of beautiful, extremely white, small eggs (not as small as bird's eggs but smaller than chicken eggs). Halfway through I thought of adjusting the papers and cardboards so that the eggs are better nestled. I carefully moved the eggs onto the floor, shifted the papers and cardboards, but when I turned to the eggs I found the shells all cracked. They were still intact, but the the shells were all cracked. I shifted them back carefully into the basket, thinking that I'd have to cook them all now instead of only a few. I remember that it didn't upset me at all... only very surprised to find them all with shells cracked since they were all perfect a few seconds ago. Through some of the cracked shells I was able to see how beautifully golden the yolks were, especially against the pearlescent white shells. I remember noting that all were fresh and none were bad. The day was beautiful with perfectly blue sky and no clouds. It wasn't hot or humid at all which I hate when cycling.

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“You know that place between sleeping and awake, that place where you can still remember dreaming? That's where I'll always think of you.” ― J.M. Barrie My name is Shannon. I'm a seventeen year old girl with a cognitive sleep disorder, who doesn't dream. I haven't had a real dream in ten years. When I go to sleep, my body and my brain shuts off, until it's either time to wake up, or pass between the realm of the sleeping, and the awake. In these ten years, when I slept I was plagued with nightmares, vivid nightmares beyond my control that stay with me, haunt me during the day. I'd see the figures in my nightmares everywhere, be it people, or unexplainable things. But today, when I slept, something happened: I was sleeping, yet awake and well aware, and while this was happening, I was dreaming. This dream has to be the most real thing that has ever happened. Let me tell you what happened: I was sitting outside of a lovely, slightly older house with a young man, he was a little older than I was, Maybe nineteen or twenty. It was dark, snow was falling to the ground, but it wasn't cold. We were talking, having a wonderful time; he was handsome; mid-length choclate colored hair that was combed back, though some of his hair had migrated infront of his face. He was wearing all black, not in the 'creepy gothic' way you would think. He was wearing a lovely leather coat, looked like he had traveled to london and back to get it, regular dress shoes, slacks, and a long-sleeve black top. I was different, much different. I was dressed in all white, though I couldn't tell exactly what I was wearing, we had on almost the same jacket: mine was white, cotton; and his, well I've already told you. I was wearing a white beret, and my hair was much different: it was long, almost down to my back and as blonde as a sun goddess; curled just slightly at the end; my glasses weren't black anymore, but a light baby blue. He smiled at me, took my hand and called me "Madaline." I responded! That wasn't my name but I responded as if I've had it for my whole life. This boy... He looked into my eyes and I could see through him, I could see into his soul. In an instant he turned, and pulled out a beautiful light blue and lime green stripped scarf, drapped it around my neck, and smiled once again. I beemed, I didn't know what to say, it was beautiful! gorgeous, even. He then took a small letter from his pocket, and handed it to me. It was a poem, entitled "My sweet Madaline."; I stopped, and looked at him, and proceeded to read: "My sweet Madaline, Though I will never be here in time, You are heaven to this tattered soul. You are a gift, that should be protected, And though we may be appart, in life: I can promise you, we will have our time, My sweet Madaline." Before I had a moment to respond, a little girl came out of the house behind us. She was about eight or so, with the same hair color hair as the young man. She looked at the scarf, then the note, and ran in side "Mommy, mommy! Why does she gets stuff and I don't!" she shouted, running inside. We both laughed. At that moment my eyes opened, my room was dark. It was about 11:00am; but when I closed my eyes, this.. dream... it continued. There was a court room, the young man was sitting in front with his lawyer, there was nobody on the stand. It seemed as though they were talking about a child that had died; Madaline. They had blamed the young man for it. The lawyer accusing him had found the poem. "My sweet Madaline" on his desk, to be honest, I don't know what was happening. I rushed into the court room, flinging open the doors and yelling "Stop!" Instantly all eyes were on me, the room fell silent as the young man looked back at me, and I knew, I just knew, he couldn't have done this. "That poem is about me! He wrote it about me!" I opened my eyes again, back to reality before turning to the otherside of my bed. Closing my eyes, I saw an older woman with two men standing on either side of her. She was holding a file, with one, small sheet of paper pulled out of it. "She's telling the truth." the woman said with a soft quiver in her voice. I saw the young man's face before my eyes opened for the final time. This is all I remember.

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