DREAM REPORTING THREAD!!!!!!!
I'll give EVERY SINGLE post an ✨OFFICIAL DREAM RATING✨ AND I will guess what kind of mental disorder you have!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
252 posts and 42 image replies omitted.>>833164I hope your dream comes true.
anyone else like nightmares? it's like a horror movie, it's fun because it doesn't harm you for real, plus you feel a nice wave of relief immediately after waking up
in contrast, i don't like good dreams because when i wake up they remind me that my life is ass and it instantly ruins my day.
i guess thats why ive always prefered tragedies in fiction, they kind of make you appreciate what you have instead of wishing for more
>>833187Wallace Breen speech bubble.
>>833164I've dreamed of my city getting nuked a few times. I'm never scared. My immediate thought is always "the crazy bastards did it."
Had a very sentimental dream about grandpa and jason that ened very sinister, very ominous
We talked, I saw him socialize with friends and people, with destiny, saw him remarry and be happy. Jason was there, Jason drove me and Destiny home. Jason went with destiny alone, as a normal father driving his daughter back, no fear or anger.
Grandpa asks me if I want to turn off the video games and go outside. I excitedly agree. I notice he has most of his things packed up or stacked into piles/bundles. He asks me about my life, how I am doing, about Nathan. We talk, I can tell he is about to leave, that he is doing this because he knows an end is near. He laments about the state of the world, its anti social hostility, its lack of materialist rationality. He asks me if Marx is a prophet and I stupidly say yes, then clarify when he chastises me. He seems happy about my answers. He has two revolvers laid out on the floor. A symbol of his masculine identity and my childhood. He always loved cowboy films, and I always saw him as a strong western frontiersman. They are old and decrepit, I can tell he will burn them. I grab one and spin it around, juggling the gun and whirling it on my finger as I ask him about them. He says they are old and useless, I think it is a metaphor for him. We drive away in his pickup truck. He asks questions about what games I play and if I play a lot of MOBAs. I say I used to play two, but that I know theyre very bad for time management. He asks more questions about the "anti social" side of gaming and I keep admitting to my problems and concious knowledge of them. He chuckles and calls me a fart licker for not being hostile enough to his questions. Now he is wearing white. It goes well with his curly grey hair. We are at a divebar, or more like an isolated biker bar.
I see flashes of a software file system, with files titled LiveAgain and LiveAgainGenocide. My mood instantly changes, I begin to fear my grandfather., I anticipate he has joined some form of cult or internet spiritual movement for old people abandoned by young people addicted to modern media. I think he will kill me as an act of love.
I wake up.