#reoccurring dream?

[justarandomllamacorn]

Today, for the second time, I dreamt that my parents were leading a cult.

They were about to have a ceremony that would turn my father into a Cthulhu looking humanoid, not affect my mother and turn their followers into zombie like monsters (their skin would turn ashy, eyes empty, only driven by a hunger for flesh).

Anyway, today again (this is the second time they have this ceremony in my dreams) I refused to partake in it so my father threw a handful of wasted rice in the room in which I planned to barricade myself so that the famished mindless monsters would attack me first since I was the closest to them.

We were in a huge complex made of shipping containers, in the countryside. And right next to the shipping container in which I planned to barricade myself there was a library full of old books, I went in and saw a guy who had come here with parents, I could see he had been bidding things in here but pretended I hadn't witnessed anything and started talking about literature. He left, and I picked some books to keep me occupied during the ceremony and it's aftermath. I cleaned up the room I would be using so it didn't smell like spoiled food and wouldn't bring the monsters to attack me and barely closed the front door in time for the beginning of the ceremony. The back was too heavy and wouldn't budge so I ran out as the sky turned to red and scaled up the side of the containers to get to the roof.

There I could see the ceremony unfolding. I went to hide on the other side of the complex, sat on a lower roof above a window, when a boy my age came over to me. I was surprised to see him as I was sure he was a loyal follower and would choose the transformation like the others as it was a great honour and a blessing to them. But he hadn't, he was kind, we spoke a little, he wrapped his vest around my shoulders, gave me a warm mug of milk and a chocolate covered biscuit, "my favourite thing to eat when I'm distressed" , he had said. He smiled gently, accepted to take back his vest and climbed down again, jogging away like in those romantic movies tropes.

Immediately, I stood up and climbed up again, he was a spy, a retriever, he would come back and capture me. My heart beat faster than ever as anxiety rose up in me but still I ran across the roofs, jumping to other roofs, I looked back and saw him pursuing me. I ran like a beast before a wild fire. Jumping and climbing higher still, but he wouldn't give. Over, to the left, I could see the ceremony had worked and they had all transformed into mindless creatures (aside from mother and father, of course).

Eventually I stood on a really high roof and couldn't get to any other roof so I started climbing down the walls, looking through every window if it was safe for me to get in. He was getting closer still, I could feel the adrenaline rushing through my veins, and finally I went in through a window. The small old lady saw I was in a state of dissaray and looked on as I rushed to her locked front door. I hid fast as I saw Him coming in through the window, the blood rushing in my ears drowned out everything they were saying. I saw in a reflection, the old lady coming to the door and unlocking it.

Yet as I made a move to get to the door discreetly, the old lady bumped into the big boxes, sending them toppling onto the ground.

Frozen in shock, I turned my head around and saw him looking at me, nonchalantly half sat on the table. He smiled darkly at me, ready to collect his prize.

The old lady had betrayed me.

[ewwww-what]

What a cool dude, I hope he isn’t haunted by memories of his dead friend lol

[solargeist]

I had a dream last night where Mumbo went to a hermit pool party but wore his suit the entire time, even in the water

He also shaved his moustache off for some reason, but wouldn’t look Grian in the face and Grian was like "wait what-WAIT WHAT”

[manchesterau]

had a dream that to announce their engagement dan posted a really close up pic of his hand with the ring and his face doing that one smile 🙂 with the caption: after many years of wearing me down (im joking 🙃 ) i finally said yes! and in the next picture phil was holding dan's wrist out to show off the ring and dan had an annoyed face

[msperfectsheep-posts]

non i7 mutuals this is your sign to watch IDOLiSH7. please 🥺🥺🥺

[hersurvival]

No friends of my own.

Just reoccurring dreams

Of a secret tunnel with a slide

To the next door unit

Of our military duplex.

A world so full of life and color

Beyond my own walls.

Two kids with no parents,

My best friends.

@nosebleedclub September 2nd - Strange Kid(s) Next Door

[lordkingsmith]

To anyone who might be interested I’m giving away a reoccurring dream plot I can’t do anything with

Christianity never happened and dragons exist and are like large, cantankerous goats. A Jewish family are dragon and goat farmers. It’s a multigenerational story, I think

I’m not Jewish and I’m not sure I can give this premise the justice it deserves. I was raised Catholic.

So anyone who wants to take it on please consider it a writing prompt :)

[chubbychiquita]

im so bitter covid killed the buffet industry right when i got confident enough to be a glutton in public

[spacebugarts]

Holy shit I just realized that my dreams have a version of PotO (Broadway version) where the Phantom just fuckin shoots Raoul in his box and it apparently happens not long after Masquerade? Like in place of the Red Death scene they all go into the theatre and Raoul is in box 5 alone for some reason and Erik just. Shoots the poor guy with a period-typical pistol and disappears. Raoul recovers eventually but its like the turning point of the story yk.

[cadmium-free]

My stress dreams mostly take the shape of navigating unnavigable spaces, but the space is consistent across dreams. They are real places except utterly unreal. False cities.

new york city, in my dreams

A vast city of brownstones with no end, but I always find myself on the same street with green trees casting a dappled shade over ever thing. It’s dense with low those red brick houses and parked cars.

If you walk down the steps to the basement of the houses you would find vast unmarked shops, empty in their centre, and customers crowded into corners. If you were to walk up the steps into a home it would be empty. All white walls and narrow rooms.

There is a train in this city, if you are able to find it’s entrance. It’s a gash in the ground where the packed streets converge into a spiral. You enter impossibly deeper and deeper inside it. It’s hard to leave once you enter.

The walls are white brick. The platforms are white brick. The maze of hallways and stairs descends deeper to a network of too many train lines. You descend stairs to platforms merely ten feet long or a different set of stairs to a platform that stretches impossibly long into the dark. The tracks and platforms intersect haphazardly, and if the trains didn’t run quite on time you know they would run each other through.

If you get on a train, you can take it to the outer reaches of the city. I have not gotten off in the north, but I’ve seen the landscape out the train windows. It is made of small sandy islands that the train stays far above. It takes a long slow and circuitous route. The train rarely stops, just passes over places that desperately need it to stop there. There are so many train lines but they so rarely share stations with one another. A passenger has no choice but to ride a trains long winding two hour route to their destination.

In the South, the train moves around a neighborhood set into the curve of a mountain. There is only station here, and when you exit you take a long winding path down the mountain into the neighborhood. The houses and streets are as tightly packed as they are in the city centre, but here they are built into the curves of the mountain. It’s hard to distinguish between plant, brick, house, and geology. It’s also where all the interesting people doing thankless work live.

Walking north from mountainous neighborhood, you approach the southern beach. There is a long, flat, wide bridge only slightly above the water level, made from planks of wood. It has no guardrails. It is essentially a massive boardwalk. Next to the bridge is a set of train tracks level with the water, but no train comes here anymore. Following the boardwalk takes you to a small flat island of sand. You could walk from side to side in under five minutes but it would take an hour to walk the length. There are houses here too, uncomfortably far apart from one another and fading into a haze of heat and pollution. This is the only place you can afford to live. It’s entirely exposed. It will be washed away in the next storm.

[horrorlesbians]

she needs to stop appearing in my dreams it’s bordering on obsession at this point

[lemonyinks]

Acrophobia and The Nightmare

A Lyle oneshot

1252 words

Lyle wasn’t sure which came first: the phobia or the dream. They were both something that had always been there, lingering ever present in the back of his mind for as long as he could remember having conscious thoughts. 

In the dream - more accurately, the nightmare - he would be free falling. 

Hands of an indistinguishable size, shape, and colour reach out to him as an unfamiliar voice, different every time, screams his name. He tries to reach back, but his limbs are weighed down by the same rushing air that robs him of his words and breath.

It whistles through his ears like the howling of a monster or the scream of a siren. Its loud shrieking is like a warning, like death herself was calling out to him as he fell into her embrace.  He is left helpless, eyes wide with terror, as he rapidly approaches the ground below.

He never knows how close or far he is to the ground, the distance changes every time he has the dream, but the anticipation of the impact is the worst part. The fear grows, the desperation rages. He pleads and pleads for the hands to reach him, to stop his demise, but he always knows he is going to hit the ground no matter what. 

That is always the outcome.

He gains speed as he gets closer and closer to the end of the fall. His heart, high up in his throat, beats as fast as a hummingbird's wings. 

He tries to close his eyes everytime, but everytime he is unable to. Instead, he is forced to watch. Forced to watch his paralyzed limbs struggling to move. Forced to watch the colours blur and shift. Forced to watch the hands reaching out to him growing smaller and further away until finally his body meets the ground.

The loud crunch of his body colliding with the ground (he never knows if it's grass or concrete or metal or something else underneath him) is something horribly unnatural that haunts him even in his waking hours. The pain is unbearable and all consuming like a thousand flames eating away at his being. 

He is still unable to move his head from where he stares up at the mockingly blue sky, vision swimming nauseatingly, but out of his fading peripheral vision he can see his twisted limbs. There is blood pooling rapidly around him, the thick crimson coating everything in the vicinity until he lays in a sea of it.

He lays in agony as his vision fades in and out.  Blood soon begins to choke him, his chest spasming as it bubbles up his throat and spills out of his mouth in quantities greater than a body should be able to produce. He’s drowning, his broken and mangled body struggling to keep itself alive on instinct even though he begs it to stop.

There's no more hands, no more voice calling out to him, no spectre trying in vain to save him any longer. He is alone and he is cold. He tries to move, to close his eyes. He can’t. Eventually his vision fully fades, the pain subsides, and he dies. Alone and scared.

When he was younger he would wake up every night screaming and crying, almost always tangled up in his blankets or having fallen off of his bed and onto the cold ground, which never failed to make him panic that much harder.

In the beginning, His parents would come into his room to comfort him, but as the years went on they grew too busy to be home much and he would wake up to an empty house. Those nights were the worst, and he barely slept a wink during period of his life. 

Things got a little bit better once he started staying with the Foccarts while his parents were away. He loved sharing a room with Jacques, it was nice to have another person in the room with him at all times. He always did feel horrible whenever he inevitably woke Jacques with his screaming, though. Not that the other boy would complain, he would just sleepily pat his back and tell him it was alright until the two of them fell back to sleep, but the guilt was still there regardless.

Eventually he grew accustomed to the fear and the pain of the nightmare, and while he would still wake up full of terror, he would do it much quieter. When he was asked about it, he would claim that he no longer had the dream, that it had faded away with his age. It was a burden that he didn’t want to force onto others, a weakness he didn’t like sharing. 

The phobia, however, was much harder to hide.

He could barely go up a flight of stairs or look over the second story railing without his knees going weak and shaky, his heart climbing high up into his throat as his lungs spasmed in an attempt to take in oxygen. Tears would well up in his eyes entirely against his will and he would squeeze them shut as tight as they would go while he tried to tame the twisting nausea in his stomach.

There were more than a few times when he was young where he either threw up because the fear was so great, or he had to be carried the rest of the way.

It was embarrassing. 

He felt a sinking sense of shame every time he stood near an edge, glanced out of a ship window, or climbed a particularly tall flight of stairs with a banister he could look over and he felt that fear grip his very being all over again.

He tried, oh how he tried so very hard to get over this fear, but the thing about phobias is that they are hardly logical things. No matter how much hard reasoning or exposure therapy he subjected himself to, it did little to help.

When Querl’s abandoned alloy floated past him that fateful day during the Legion’s infancy, he had felt a surge of hope. He poured hours into his experimentation and creation of the legion flight rings. He was giddy with pride when they worked the first time he tested them and actually managed to hover a few feet in the air instead of crashing to the ground after jumping from his testing table.

Truthfully, the flight rings did help to reign in his fear just a little in the end. At the very least he had a semi-reliable guarantee that he would not be plummeting to his death anytime soon even if he should slip off of one of those horrible, unforgiving heights. 

The fear was still there, though, floating around in the back of his mind like an unkillable parasite. The dream never did go away either, and he was left lying awake each night he didn’t spend passed out in his lab dreading closing his eyes. 

So, he holds the banister a little tighter than the average person when he’s climbing high stairs. He stands as far from the edge as possible on raised platforms, uneasy eyes ensuring that he’s not too close and trying his best to mask the way his knees tremble. His eyes never stray towards the wind whipped windows of ships in motion.

He twists and turns the flight ring on his finger, praying to whatever higher power may be out there that it won’t fail him in his time of need.

He can only hope that the nightmare isn’t an omen.

[crimsonkenjii-writes]

OH MY GOD!!!! I finally had a dream where I had crazy good sex with Aki. We were on some sort of business trip but we’re being little freaks and sneaked away into a hotel room to do the nasty but just our luck to choose the damn hotel that had a weird ass murderer on the loose. They were dressed as a purple bunny for some reason. And the most goofiest cartoonish looking bunny too. And me and Aki are going at it, feeling hella good. And right before we both finished, the murderer busts through the door, sees us naked, laughs uncomfortably and apologizes saying he’ll let us finish and come back later. We were so bamboozled it immediately put us out of the mood and neither of us finished.

[starryeyed-seer]

Found how old my main fallen london account is...

...and I still haven't started railway!!

Id like just joined tumblr and the one person I followed sometimes reblogged posts about some weird game where you dated tentacle freaks in victorian London. It turned out I have much worse taste than rubbery but I've stuck about in one form or another since. I only just got back hard into the main game recently

[sunglassesmish]

i had a dream there was a lou sighting and all of tumblr went crazy

immediately googles how to make a dream come true

i keep having dreams of him posting things on instagram and us having debates over it. for some reason. at this point i’ve had 4 separate dreams about it.

[cult-of-the-eye]

do i know what the nightmare was about? no. do i get a painful sense of unease every time i close my eyes? yes.