I Dreamed a Dream of a Dream Machine.
- Thread starter Bradylama
- Start date
Who ain't having those kinda things. I got alot when I was around 7 and 8 years old. they were only like 1 second, all I could see was the picture then it zipped to something else. then about a week later I see the same thing I dont even remember seeing in the dream anymore but still get the deja vu going. I've had a few more over the years but their rare now. sometimes I wonder if dreams like that are a way of seeing the future, I would call it bull**** but everytime i had one of those things it always happened, not a clue who when or why just the image of it stuffed somewhere in my head forgotten until that moment and then it feels like my stomach jumped up and down for the hell of it when I realize I saw it before.
most probably its just your mind playing tricks on you, although i'll admit there are some weird not so easy to explain things too...
I remember some dreams, I tend to write down some of the more interesting ones. Here's one of the most intense ones.
I remember being chased by some kind of troop on a chinook helicopter through a forest. I was running away with a few more people, a huge searchlight set on us. Eventually, some guys got down from the helicopter on ropes and began shooting the people running away. I ran to an outcropping and jumped, hoping they wouldn't get me there. I remember falling and didn't feel when I hit the ground.
I wake up on a very very filthy surgical table, my hands and legs strapped to it by leather bounds, my shirt off. A very low-ceiling roof, very dim lights, and some sort of surgical pipe stuck into my left forearm. Two doctors leered at me, both their coats stained with blood and other things.
As I pulled on the leather bands to set myself free, and screamed my lungs out, one of the doctors produced a syringue-like device, filled with a very, very bright red liquid.
The guy rammed the thing that pumped some kind of serum into my forearm through the surgical pipe, not into my arm directly. Anyhow, even in my dream I felt a huge rush of pain, and in my dream I saw every single vein on my forearm stick out under my skin. I passed out from the pain.
I woke up in an abandoned building, its walls and floor wet, water dripping from the ceiling, everything dark. My arm was normal, I only noticed the mark left by the pipe stuck into my arm. I roamed in that building for some time, only to meet an elderly man, bald, dressed in a stripe shirt, suspenders and golf pants, holding an M16 rifle. I asked the guy what he was doing there, he said he was guarding a door. I asked him to let me in, but, naturally, refused.
I noticed a parallel corridor,a nd a door at the end, which wasn't guarded. Surprisingly enough, it wasn't locked, either. I opened it, only to find myself in that dark, low room with the surgical table on it, and one of the two doctors in the room. I asked the guy what the hell's happening, what the hell did they do to me, and what was that all about. He replied to me that they didn't do anything, that they didn't perform any kind of things on me nor anybody, that I was making it all up.
Then, my gaze was attracted by a cart full of metallic devices, somewhere on the right side of the room, and in the middle of it, the empty syringue-like canister.
I remember being chased by some kind of troop on a chinook helicopter through a forest. I was running away with a few more people, a huge searchlight set on us. Eventually, some guys got down from the helicopter on ropes and began shooting the people running away. I ran to an outcropping and jumped, hoping they wouldn't get me there. I remember falling and didn't feel when I hit the ground.
I wake up on a very very filthy surgical table, my hands and legs strapped to it by leather bounds, my shirt off. A very low-ceiling roof, very dim lights, and some sort of surgical pipe stuck into my left forearm. Two doctors leered at me, both their coats stained with blood and other things.
As I pulled on the leather bands to set myself free, and screamed my lungs out, one of the doctors produced a syringue-like device, filled with a very, very bright red liquid.
The guy rammed the thing that pumped some kind of serum into my forearm through the surgical pipe, not into my arm directly. Anyhow, even in my dream I felt a huge rush of pain, and in my dream I saw every single vein on my forearm stick out under my skin. I passed out from the pain.
I woke up in an abandoned building, its walls and floor wet, water dripping from the ceiling, everything dark. My arm was normal, I only noticed the mark left by the pipe stuck into my arm. I roamed in that building for some time, only to meet an elderly man, bald, dressed in a stripe shirt, suspenders and golf pants, holding an M16 rifle. I asked the guy what he was doing there, he said he was guarding a door. I asked him to let me in, but, naturally, refused.
I noticed a parallel corridor,a nd a door at the end, which wasn't guarded. Surprisingly enough, it wasn't locked, either. I opened it, only to find myself in that dark, low room with the surgical table on it, and one of the two doctors in the room. I asked the guy what the hell's happening, what the hell did they do to me, and what was that all about. He replied to me that they didn't do anything, that they didn't perform any kind of things on me nor anybody, that I was making it all up.
Then, my gaze was attracted by a cart full of metallic devices, somewhere on the right side of the room, and in the middle of it, the empty syringue-like canister.