Dreams brain

I am meeting my grandmother's new church. I have a weird feeling about this specific group of people but I leave her with them. My family and I go out to an event, only to hear that my grandmother will be participating in a ceremony in which she will be drowned in order to allow fresh new young individuals to enter her brain and live on. I am upset once I learn she is in a cult and my family and I rush into our cars and race to save my grandmother. I am driving erratically behind my father having a hard time seeing the road. Once we reach the church, mother is on the sidewalk crying. I instantly have a feeling of dread wash over me and I begin to cry erratically and pound on the walls of the church. I race in to see all the people and start yelling at them for allowing such a thing to happen. I start hitting things within the church and run out.

My deceased grandmother had a brain tumor she remembered my name but was terrified to hug me. My deceased father came and sat down next to me I got up and left and when I returned to the room they told me she was gone.

In prison and was being beaten by someone, maybe the guard. Tried to escape, but got shot running away, laid on the ground while getting shot by very heavy military artilery, and was getting shot in every inch of my body esxcept the left side of my head as it laid on the ground away from the guns. Figured my left brain was keeping me alive. They realized I was alive and choked me with a wire and I drifted away from my body as I watched them choke to to death. Woke up.

So here is the critical information. I have a dream last night, involving a women, whom I haven't seen since high school (I graduated in 2006) and with whom I have not had any interaction with since elementary or junior high school. I used to have a major crush on her in the third grade for a couple of years. So anyway, in the dream we (and a bunch of others) are camping, or something, on the top of a mountain, which is possibly a ski hill since it is dark outside but the mountainside is covered with powdered snow. The first thing I remember is leaving the campsite area and descending the mountain on foot, thinking that she would follow me. Well I slide down through the snow and land somewhere about half way down and realize that if she has started following me that she is not moving as quickly as I did, or she may not be at all. Anyway it's very dark outside and I am sitting behind a rock when I see a horse, a white horse galloping through the snow descending the mountain. I think how amazing a picture this is. Following that, shortly is a pack of wolves, cresting over the mountain and seem to be heading in the same direction as the horse. I duck down a bit hoping the wolves do not spot me. They do though, and I stand up and face them head on. At this point they turn and run. I am concerned for the girl now and I make my way into a few cabins and eventually back up to the top of the hill calling her name. Eventually I head into my tent and she is there. The last thing I remember before I woke up is her grabbing my left arm and pulling it over her and saying something along the lines of you finally came. So what is up with that? I am a well educated male and know enough to understand the complicated nature of the brain and neurological system. Does it have a meaning? Is it just random neuron processes? If there is a meaning to the dream, than what is it?

“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.