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Dreams resigned

Found 12 dreams containing resigned


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.

Sitting at dining room table across from someone (I don't see the face only the gun). I know they are going to shoot me. I ask isn't there any way they don't have to kill me. they ask me not to beg like they have too much respect for me to hear me like that. I know it doesn't matter if I beg. they stand over me. I am kneeling, I cover my face. I am resigned to death. they point the gun at the top of my head and pull the trigger. I feel pressure but not really pain. I begin to wonder if I have been shot after all. I get up onto the dining room chair, a little woozy and weak. Sitting I put my hand to my head. it is bloody. I can feel the blood on my hand. In the next room is my teenage daughter watching TV. I stumble to her and try to explain and tell her I love her. I wake up. - this dream has been driving me crazy all day.

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It always started with a vibrant color red slowly fading into the background, like a backdrop of evil setting the scene. Around the edges and into the corners of my vision were black shadows, the darkest I had ever seen. I entered from the left, terrified beyond measure, yet determined to get what I came for; my grandparents’ release from Hell, from the bondage of Satan himself. Nana and Papo, my paternal grandparents, would enter from the right, distraught, resigned, yet, a bit hopeful. I ran to them, hugging and kissing them. I can still feel the way my grandfather’s solid middle felt against my skinny, half-grown arms. And then there was Satan. His voice boomed over us like thunder. My heart seized with panic and sank like a rock within me as terror washed over me like an ocean’s wave. For just a moment, the three of us huddled together, Nana, Papo and me. Then, after what felt like an eternity of being frozen in fear but seconds of being comforted by the warmth of their bodies, of their love, my voice found me. I freed myself from the entanglement of their arms and knew I had to do this on my own. I demanded their freedom. I asked that they be able to return with me to my home. While I do not remember the words that roared from the scoffing voice overhead, I remember that my request was denied. Nana and Papo had to stay in Hell. There was no question about it. Then, they turned and exited back from whence they had come, resigned, saddened but willing. I screamed. I screamed their names. I screamed in protest. I screamed because of the injustice. They did not belong there. They knew Jesus. And yet, it had not been enough. In that moment, He had not been enough. That’s when I would awake in a panic, crying, hardly able to breathe. Yet another thing was out of my control. Yet another injustice was being committed and I could do nothing. My voice was not being heard. My stomach was churning as was my heart.

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At school i was being taught by women younger than myself who had outgoing personalities suitable for teaching. I compared myself to these women and felt i i did not have their ability. the school i attended was not a typical academic setting. Many of the classrooms were used for dual purpose, there was medical training and ambulance driving instructions. I was being taught a subject infront of a white bard with markers. was getting ready for school when i noticed i would have difficulty making the bus if i could not decide what clothes to wear. the white painters paints were somewhat too large and it was to hot to wear two wool sweaters, the white turtle neck and blue cardigan. i was resigned too being late to school until i figured this out. Parents than noticed i had many keys on my chain and demanded to know what each was for. I had blue, silver and other colors. i responded by saying one key was for night, day, my graphic work...

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I was traveling through the Middle East, a rare sight of a woman alone with her children. Everywhere we went, small children with large, dark, haunted eyes would watch my son and daughter as they laughed easily, teased each other and tried to talk to one another in Arabic from a small red phrasebook. One day we sat on a hot, dusty, crowded train. As the vista flashed by outside the window, a young boy, close to the same age as my son, sat across from us with his father. He watched quietly, seriously, as my children giggled, poked at one another and pointed out goats, mountains and beautiful rolling dunes awash in browns, soft pinks and ochers. My daughter turned to the boy and spoke a short phrase to him - "Hello; how are you?" - and suddenly he smiled, huge brown eyes lighting up and his face transformed into that of a beautiful and carefree young man. He began to answer when his father, eyes flashing, gave him a sharp reprimand in the universal language that every parent understands, the tone conveying words I understood in a language I could not. The boy cast his eyes downward. I looked at the man and attempted his language. "I'm sorry and it is not my business yet...why is it not alright for our children to speak with one another?" He looked at me and, with a small sigh, said "Our children are not the same." I said, "We are not wealthy people; you have no reason to dislike us." He barked a short laugh and said, "You, wealthy? You have riches. We -" he pointed at his breast, "we have wealth. We have the wealth that comes from true knowledge of our Creator, of our thousands of years of history, of our struggles. Of our losses. Of our families, of our heritage, of our culture. Your children have riches. Riches of the promise of a future. My son has wealth. But the promise of a future...?" He raised his arms heavenward in a fatalistic gesture and slowly turned his head to look out the window of the train. His proud face looked resigned yet strangely at peace. I woke up with tears running down my face.

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I am so scared that I had this dream. It was absolutely terrifying. I am so horrified right now, and I beg you for your help. I dreamed that I was with my dad. We were driving somewhere far away, perhaps to another town, and I had never been there before. We pulled up at a school, and I remember seeing a chain link fence, and a scoreboard, like the ones they use for sports. I got out of the car, and I knew that he was going to wait there until I was finished with whatever I was doing. I found myself in a library, but it was dark and people were screaming. There was so much death, there was a group of a few people killing everyone in the library. I suddenly was with my younger brother, and a man who I didn't know, but was a friend because of these circumstances. They went to go get help, and I don't know if I was supposed to follow them, but I heard them murdered with a knife, and I heard a choking sound as they died. I was in shock, and I felt nothing but grief for them. And terror for my own life. So I curled up on one of the shelves and pretended to be dead. One of the killers found me, and began talking to another killer. She started rubbing her hands along my side, and I thought that it was useless of me to play dead, and that she knew I was faking. So I opened my eyes, feeling so much fear. Then I found myself bound and sitting on the floor in between the aisles of books. The killers were all around me doing various things, and I knew I was the only one alive. I could tell they were preparing to kill me. I started sobbing, as being tortured is one of my greatest fears. I cannot describe my horror and absolute desperate terror. But I had given up, and knew there was no way I was going to escape. I continued sobbing, and the killers all came to me and tried to comfort me, saying they were going to kill me quickly. I felt comforted by this, but still felt myself clinging to life. Yet I had resigned myself to my fate. I then found myself sitting on a beige mat, the kind you usually see in the wrestling arenas. I was still bound, and sitting watching a small tv with the killers. We were watching a tape of the leader of the killers, and I remember knowing that these killers were a vast organization that no one knew about. As we were watching, the leader, who was old but still lethal and fit, was sparring with other killers. He swung onto the bars they use for gymnastics, but miscalculated, and crashed to the floor, in a sitting position. Everything around him turned black, but you could see him still. It was as if I was standing behind him, not looking through a tv screen. I watched all of his bones explode out of his body, forced out by the impact of his hit to the floor, yet there was no blood. I fellt horror at what i was witnessing, and deep revulsion. I was back in the room with the killers watching the tv. I saw the woman who had first found me cover her mouth and let out a strangled sob at the leaders death. She then turned stone cold, all emotion fled her face, and she turned to the killer next to me and asked him if he could "finish the job" meaning to kill me. He nodded. I then found myself being led through a construction zone, somewhere in the back of the building. There was a bunch of grey metal scaffolding set up, an I could hear saws and see sparks coming from someone welding. I saw men in bright green hospital suits walking up and down the cold grey metal scaffolding. I saw a group of 4 thugs leading a man out. The thugs were skinny, but tough an obnoxious in a sadistic, mentally insane way. The man was in a white hospital gown, and I could see blood dripping down it from several places along his torso and back. I remember feeling so intensely betrayed, as my killers had promised me a quick death when it was plain that they were going to torture me as they had this man. He seemed to have found a renewed strength, for he was at the end of his rope, and did not care if he was tortured. He only cared about not dying a coward, and not complying to these men. He stood in the middle of this noise and scaffolding, his thugs calling him a dog and telling the "dog" to come or they would hurt him more. I could tell that he was making this distraction so I could escape, and so that he could die with honor. I felt confident and dangerous and emotionless. I just let determination take over me, and I turned into a machine with just one sole purpose: to escape. I broke free from my killers, and I remember running down a white hallway with many doors. Two of the men in the bright green tries to stop me, but I hit them both in the throat with my forearm, stunning them and kept on running. I could tell that there were more following me, but I got outside and knew I had some time. I knew that they would not venture out of the compound, and that I had bought some time. I remember finding my dad in the truck, and must have told him what happened. He and I both had that emotionless determination, me to escape this place, and he to protect me. I jumped in the car and crouched down as he began to drive out of the school. I remember more chain link fences, and many school children and cars waiting to pick them up. One of the guards was a killer, disguised as a school security guard. My dad knew what he truly was, and leaned out of the window and told him if he wanted the agent, to phone him in the car two cars behind us. I knew my dad was trying to throw him off our trail, and the killer seemed to understand what my dad said, and went to interrogate the other car. We sped out of there, and I remember wondering how my father knew to say that. I thanked him for staying for me and being there for me, and I felt our bond as father and daughter grow to such a strength. We arrived at home, and I found myself in our dining room. It had white walls and a small wood table and chairs. I remember talking to my mother and father about what happened, and felt the old terror returning, but also a safety and comfort that I had from being back with my family and out of that place. I think my sorrow and fear and horror and terror all exploded out if me, for I screamed something, and found myself sobbing without control into my couch. I felt anger and such a deep sorrow and fear. I remember holding a swimsuit top and sobbing into it, it was olive green and had tiny flower patterns drawn into it. I remember sobbing into it, and I felt my mother behind me stroking my back, trying to comfort me, and I remember thinking to myself, wondering I I would ever get past what I had seen and felt. I awoke with tears in my eyes. I am so shaken by this, I am pleading to you for your help. Please help me understand. Thank you so very much.

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