I like to talk about dreams - Pick them apart, question the objects and people on the sidelines, and examine all recalled details in an attempt to pair it up with a situation that the dreamer might be experiencing in their life. I'll admit... sometimes it's a stretch. Dreams can always be interpreted multiple ways. But, more often than not, I find our dreams to be fairly clear representations of our everyday struggles. What's not amazing about that? It's like a trap door, or a secret cave in your own house. Shwing!
But one thing I don't often talk about in the dream world - is nightmares. This is actually surprising since due to the paranoid and crime-obsessed individual that I am, nightmares are frequent house guests of mine. Curious how many adults are like me and experience nightmares? According to WebMD, one out of every two adults has nightmares on occasion. And between 2% and 8% of the adult population is plagued by nightmares.
The topic is relevant and fresh on my mind this morning since not only did I experience a nightmare last night, but I had two. And even more disturbing - they seemed to be two opposite nightmares: one which somebody unwelcome was trying to break in, and one which a group of unwelcomes were trying not to let me out. This causes my dream weaver analysis blood to boil, as no matter the answer I draw, it cancels out the other.
A brief snapshot, for those that choose to help a sister out:
1. It was night, and I was asleep. I awoke and instantly knew somebody was trying to break into the house. I heard him rustling around in the backyard, and then... the crash of broken glass. Itule leaped up and ran towards the noise. As he approached the glass door leading to the back yard, the scoundrel stood peering in, his nose almost pressed to the glass. We both got a good look at him before he ran off and jumped over the fence. And even though he had left, we knew he'd return.
2. I was at a house party and a group of people busted in with guns. Immediately, I put my hands up hostage-style and they carefully swept the room, pointing guns in our faces and examining each of us. It was silent - so silent. The tension was palatable, and their footsteps resonated on the wood floors. Without moving, my eyes scanned the room for the rest of my friends, and I located them in the corner not far from where I stood. As the gunmen looked away for a second, I made a break to join them. Success. They turned the corner, and slowly, we began to scoot backwards towards our exit.
Survey says: Am I in... or am I out?
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