I’ve been having such vivid dreams. Three last night and it’s nearly 12 hours later and I still feel like they were real.
The first was waking up, in my dream of course, in a bed I didn’t recognize. The sheets were orange and felt coarse against my hands and legs. I was at the foot of someone’s bed, and there was a person laying under the sheets. An old friend of mine was sleeping and I nearly screamed when I realized who it was. I slowly crept out of bed and out of his room, and saw the bedroom door across the hall was open. I closed my eyes and ran, hoping no one had seen me. I heard a familiar say “What the hell?” as I found the living room and pretended to sleep on the couch. He came after me and calmly asked me what I was doing in his house. I was trembling and couldn’t make eye contact, but I said “I don’t have any idea how I got in your house. I’m sorry.” And walked out the front door.
The second was more spliced and harder to put together. I walked into a church service, the walls covered in bright pink and rainbows. I saw the altar, and a set of fuzzy stairs going to a basement. Somehow I knew the basement was basically a cat heaven and I wasn’t allergic. I went downstairs and there were so many colors and textures and mazes I could have thrown up. It was the only place I really wanted to be.
The third was incredibly morbid and hard to replay. I was at a coffee shop of some sort being served by some strange faces, and somehow things turned dark. Nobody else was in the building and I started to feel myself dying. It was excruciating and I wasn’t scared to cease existing, but the pain would not recede. Suddenly it was over and I was looking over the coffee shop from above. Some people were like holograms where I could see through them and they were almost translucent. Others were completely normal. Both types were acting normal. Someone started talking to me explaining that some of them are dead but their bodies are still in the real world. I had the ability to “click” on each one and see how they died, but each time I did, that person went through the same horrifying pain that I did. It was now my job to go over each of these deaths over and over, and document each motion and movement. I had to put these people through pain again and again. On my breaks, I was to serve both alive and dead people coffee, but I had to make sure to bring them “dead” coffee and “alive” coffee, even though they looked the same. I saw my sister in law one floor below me doing the same process, but watching her mother’s suicide repeatedly as part of her job. It was unbearable to watch and impossible to run away. Maybe I got a glimpse of hell.
There’s not really anywhere else for me to write it down that I’ll be able to find it again, so here you go friends.