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Found 2,847 dreams containing sitting - Page 219


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.

I am sitting in my second period classroom in a different seat than I usually do. A different teacher is also talking to the class, sitting on a familiar wooden stool. She isn’t teaching, she is just making conversation. Everyone is packed up and I get the sense that we are waiting for a call to let us go. I check the clock and it is about eleven am. The class keeps talking and I become impatient. When my teacher finally dismisses us, I turn around and notice it is 3:00 pm! I’m confused on why we have stayed in one class for four hours. The dream suddenly changes to a warm, candlelit dining room. The walls are light colored and the chairs dark wood. There’s even a tablecloth with set crystal glasses. I’m sitting next to my brother and sister, who for some reason are now Caucasian. My father is Dennis Quaid and he is warning us to be nice. Somehow I already know that the mother in my dream has died months ago and my father is just now finding a new woman, and she is coming over for dinner. My white brother and sister are sullen, but I am welcoming. She rings the doorbell and my father dashes up to open the door. My father’s prospective girlfriend , tall and blond, walks in and is seated my father. My brother and sister say hello reproachfully and I smile warmly and introduce myself. We are making awkward conversation when a letter is delivered for my father. He opens it and it is written by someone who has his exact same handwriting. It’s signed in by his name, with blood dried onto the signature. My father says that it threatens us to leave the house and nothing bad will happen. It’s strange because the letter is written to my father, from my father, and dated in the future. I wake up.

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On Wednesday night I had a dream that I was in Siberia and it was snowing like crazy. I was looking for the teen youth ministers from my church and walking around outside. I looked into a local taverns window and they were sitting at the counter talking to one another. I was waving outside when all of a sudden I slipped and fell on my back. They came outside and told me “ Phoebe if you were wearing your skis then you wouldn’t have fallen”. I looked around and saw everyone was wearing skis and then agreed with them that if I had worn them then I wouldn’t have fallen. Then I woke up.

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Backyard of my house down by storage building. With a group of people sitting and chatting. Looked up toward the house and saw clearly came through as my deceased mother sitting in a solitary chair on an empty brick patio. The chair and her were facing forward. I Clearly knew it was my mother by sense as opposed to facial features which were not as clear. She had on the colors black and red, possibly shorts and top. As I looked up and saw her, she turned her head to the right and looked down toward me. I turned to ask the group if my " mother" could join us. I guess I was startled by this and woke up or woke myself up.

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I was sitting home alone on a stormy evening. All of a sudden there was a knock on the door, which struck me as odd since no one was supposed to be home for another two hours. So I sat still and pretended not to hear anything, but the knock came again. The air around me became cold and lifeless. As if I was inhaling chalk. Then I heard it, the sharp bullet fire followed by the cracking of wood. The door hinge dropped lifelessly to the floor, followed by the door itself. Then a man wearing all black was in its place. Immediately I sprung up and lunged for the back door, but the man was trailing at my heels. Then as if I had went through a wormhole of time I was running through the slummy streets of a crime filled city, the fiend still close behind. I’m running so fast my feet don’t feel a part of my body anymore, I sharply turn but am reluctant to find myself trapped in a dead end alleyway. As I frantically turn he has the gun pointed to my forehead, before he gets the chance to shoot I’m jolted awake.

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