Understand My Dreams basa"d

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Found 107 dreams containing crew - Page 10


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 had a dream that I wasn't happy at CSUN so I transferred to CalArts for my last semester at school, and they got two awesome new piano teachers, and I was excited to go there, but then you moved down to southcal to go to school and you were going to live with me, but when i switched to CalArts it kind of screwed you over, because CSUN is a school where you could get a degree in pretty much anything but CalArts is only for music/art, etc. so you couldn't really go to school

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I was in an abandoned building with Mohammed Alsharif and this couple (whom I don't actually know but I seemed to know in the dream). The four of us were going to go somewhere and I ended up outside in the car (a yellow convertible) with the couple. The guy was driving and he started to drive off without Mohammed. I protested and the guy said something to the effect of 'screw him' and then said, 'He shouldn't lag behind.' I got highly offended and demanded we go back. The guy refused; I argued; he refused. So, I told him to let me out. He woudn't. So, we argued about that until I told him this was kidnapping and got my phone out to call the police. I was deposited on a dark, rain-slicked skid row street. It was very dark and I started to walk back to the apartment to find Mohammed. I got to the upstairs doorway - a kind of doorway without a door to a landing with cracked and abused plaster, the cement floors covered in dust and debris - and he was there. "I'm so sorry, I said. "No problem," he shrugged in classic Mohammed fashion. "No, it's terrible. They were going to leave without you." "It's okay." Again, quintessential Mohammed casual shrug. "They're assholes. I'm so sorry. What should we do now?" I asked, thinking we would make alternate plans for the night out. He smiled in a cute, coy way and blushed as he shrugged his shoulders. I got the hint and smiled and blushed and looked down at my shoes. As I looked back up, he put his arms around my neck - very gently, very shyly - and leaned over to kiss me. It was gentle at first, but as I became more receptive, he got bolder. At one point, I gave a little whimper while he was kissing me and lips still on mine, he smiled and repeated my whimper mockingly. In this torrent of polite and demure passion, the boldest I could force myself to be was to press a hand to his chest. His hands never ventured beyond the back of my neck.

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I moved into a new big apartment with my brother, my nephew and my baby niece who is not real but she was about two years old in the dream and had long braids. I decided which rooms the two kids would stay in on the first floor of the house. Outside on the terrace I met a videographer and asked him what he was working on. He told me he was shooting a documentary about a breakdance crew from Morocco. I got excited and asked him if he knew the boy I like/love. He said he'd heard of him but he was working with another dancer. When the dancer arrived he was a very short dancer I'd never seen before. He showed me a photograph of some graffiti in Morocco with his face on it. There were two other faces, the one on the left was the boy I know's face, it was in purple spray paint. Someone asked me if I knew him. They said they could tell I did because the way my smile lit up, it meant I was in love.

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