JAS_OH1
Forum GOD!
is that part true? Because everyone I know says it your way.
Do you have weird dreams?
- Thread starter ElizabethB
- Start date
badjak
Legendary Member
I've had those, but I had to redo both analytical chemistry and bio organic chemistry.
It was more of a nightmare!
(I graduated 1991. I sincerely hope those dreams are not coming back)
Herbaceous
Guru
Yes, my husband has always insisted that it’s paper-rock-scissors, despite literally every single person we know calling it rock-paper-scissors.
JAS_OH1
Forum GOD!
No, I don't think so lol!
I bet she went to buy a pizza with the $20...
JAS_OH1
Forum GOD!
Probably McDonald's.
Barriehie
Forum GOD!
Chemistry, love/hate thing with those classes but still love C2H5OH...
Not a weird dream per se, but a dream nonetheless:
I was in a small bar, with a little stage set up, where I was playing with some other nameless/faceless musicians.
The front of the barroom was all plate glass, and it had a sort of shelf, like a countertop, running the length of the front, along with stools every so often. I could see through the glass that it was drizzling and dreary outside.
I spied a woman sitting there on one of the stools, in profile, all alone, with what was either a slightly sad expression, or one of reflection, staring out the window, lost in thought, drink next to her - very arresting picture, sort of like a living photograph or painting.
I wanted to get her attention, so I kept staring and staring from the stage, hoping she’d get that feeling of being watched, so she’d turn to see, and I could send her a little smile to possibly cheer her up, but she was like a rock, immovable.
We were playing a slow country waltz, and I was more and more determined to catch her eye, until finally, I stopped playing and walked over to her, and as the band continued the song, I asked her to dance, and we waltzed all around the other patrons, between the tables, and all through the bar.
That was it.
I was in a small bar, with a little stage set up, where I was playing with some other nameless/faceless musicians.
The front of the barroom was all plate glass, and it had a sort of shelf, like a countertop, running the length of the front, along with stools every so often. I could see through the glass that it was drizzling and dreary outside.
I spied a woman sitting there on one of the stools, in profile, all alone, with what was either a slightly sad expression, or one of reflection, staring out the window, lost in thought, drink next to her - very arresting picture, sort of like a living photograph or painting.
I wanted to get her attention, so I kept staring and staring from the stage, hoping she’d get that feeling of being watched, so she’d turn to see, and I could send her a little smile to possibly cheer her up, but she was like a rock, immovable.
We were playing a slow country waltz, and I was more and more determined to catch her eye, until finally, I stopped playing and walked over to her, and as the band continued the song, I asked her to dance, and we waltzed all around the other patrons, between the tables, and all through the bar.
That was it.
ZenPandaChef
Regular Member
Weirdest dream I ever had, was maybe 5 years ago but I still remember it.
I am at my parents place. Whole family gathered. We are cooking food. So far so normal. But my parents are zombies. So it is very important that they don't get any blood in our food while cooking.
It fades out and shifts to my whole family me included, we are all zombies. So I guess my parents failed? We are all dressed in Indian garments standing at the bottom of a pool dancing to Bollywood music.
I wake up drawing a deep breath as if I have been drowning. Since you know. You don't breathe under water.
I am at my parents place. Whole family gathered. We are cooking food. So far so normal. But my parents are zombies. So it is very important that they don't get any blood in our food while cooking.
It fades out and shifts to my whole family me included, we are all zombies. So I guess my parents failed? We are all dressed in Indian garments standing at the bottom of a pool dancing to Bollywood music.
I wake up drawing a deep breath as if I have been drowning. Since you know. You don't breathe under water.
badjak
Legendary Member
Last night and I don't remember everything.
But my dad was involved and he somehow upset Jerry (from Tom and Jerry fame). Then he wanted to make up to Jerry and poured him a cup of milk, but Jerry decided he rather would sit in a cup of water
Tom was not around.
And then there was more stuff like that
But my dad was involved and he somehow upset Jerry (from Tom and Jerry fame). Then he wanted to make up to Jerry and poured him a cup of milk, but Jerry decided he rather would sit in a cup of water
Tom was not around.
And then there was more stuff like that
Oh, I’ve had two doozies, back-to-back.
Night before last: my entire company was relocating somewhere far away, temporarily. It was like a military deployment, in that all our household goods were being shipped, families were coming along, all that.
We were walking around a giant airport, and we all, for whatever reason, had to wear bright yellow wetsuits to fly in. All of our luggage, and things like televisions and desks and bookcases, were just scattered about.
Next thing I knew, we were wherever we went and were packing back up to come home. Same thing, yellow wetsuits, stuff everywhere, except that this time, we were sorting through and deciding what we could leave behind, as in, “Yeah, this crockpot works, but it’s old, so let’s just get a new one when we get home,” or “Keep the drill, we can use that still.”
Then we were back in the original airport, and I remembered seeing a sign for some sort of spiritual massage person, so I went looking for her, which led me down darker and more remote corridors and all that, until I finally found her, and her room, which was cavernous, was sort of this mishmash of New Age-voodoo-gothic-Greek mythology themes, and right when I was about to get my massage…I woke up.
Night before last: my entire company was relocating somewhere far away, temporarily. It was like a military deployment, in that all our household goods were being shipped, families were coming along, all that.
We were walking around a giant airport, and we all, for whatever reason, had to wear bright yellow wetsuits to fly in. All of our luggage, and things like televisions and desks and bookcases, were just scattered about.
Next thing I knew, we were wherever we went and were packing back up to come home. Same thing, yellow wetsuits, stuff everywhere, except that this time, we were sorting through and deciding what we could leave behind, as in, “Yeah, this crockpot works, but it’s old, so let’s just get a new one when we get home,” or “Keep the drill, we can use that still.”
Then we were back in the original airport, and I remembered seeing a sign for some sort of spiritual massage person, so I went looking for her, which led me down darker and more remote corridors and all that, until I finally found her, and her room, which was cavernous, was sort of this mishmash of New Age-voodoo-gothic-Greek mythology themes, and right when I was about to get my massage…I woke up.
Dream 2, last night:
I was driving down a busy highway in a metro area (in a very expensive Ferrari-type car, not me at all) and noticed I was about to run out of gas, so I exited, found a gas station, but I didn’t like the looks of it, it looked like a very dangerous area.
Don’t ask me why, but I parked the car and got on a bus, but once I was on the bus (back on the highway), I kept telling myself not to forget where the car was, because I’d need to call MrsT to come get me and then take me back to the car to retrieve it later.
The bus stopped, end of the line, and it was at a large shopping mall, so I asked the driver about catching a bus back to where I’d left the car, and she told me it would cost $150, because it was Sunday, no busses were running, so I’d have to private-hire one.
I thought that was too expensive, so I got off the bus and followed a woman, who walked to a hotel. I thought I’d sit in the hotel bar while I called MrsT and could wait for her there.
The woman I followed came over to my table and asked me why I’d followed her from the bus, and I explained everything and said, “Don’t worry, I’m not a pervert or anything like that,” which satisfied her, then she walked away and I spotted a coworker from several years ago, and he came over and chatted for a bit.
I ordered a drink and fried fish bites, then set about calling MrsT, but I continually fat-fingered the numbers, trying to dial on my phone, and I could feel then entire time that I was quickly forgetting details about where the car was.
I asked the bartender how long I could stay, because I was obviously having some difficulty, and she said, “Oh, you can check out any time you like, but you can never leave.”
I laughed at that and said, “Yeah, like the song ‘Hotel California,’” to which she responded with a puzzled look and said, “No, this is Minnesota.”
And that was that.
I was driving down a busy highway in a metro area (in a very expensive Ferrari-type car, not me at all) and noticed I was about to run out of gas, so I exited, found a gas station, but I didn’t like the looks of it, it looked like a very dangerous area.
Don’t ask me why, but I parked the car and got on a bus, but once I was on the bus (back on the highway), I kept telling myself not to forget where the car was, because I’d need to call MrsT to come get me and then take me back to the car to retrieve it later.
The bus stopped, end of the line, and it was at a large shopping mall, so I asked the driver about catching a bus back to where I’d left the car, and she told me it would cost $150, because it was Sunday, no busses were running, so I’d have to private-hire one.
I thought that was too expensive, so I got off the bus and followed a woman, who walked to a hotel. I thought I’d sit in the hotel bar while I called MrsT and could wait for her there.
The woman I followed came over to my table and asked me why I’d followed her from the bus, and I explained everything and said, “Don’t worry, I’m not a pervert or anything like that,” which satisfied her, then she walked away and I spotted a coworker from several years ago, and he came over and chatted for a bit.
I ordered a drink and fried fish bites, then set about calling MrsT, but I continually fat-fingered the numbers, trying to dial on my phone, and I could feel then entire time that I was quickly forgetting details about where the car was.
I asked the bartender how long I could stay, because I was obviously having some difficulty, and she said, “Oh, you can check out any time you like, but you can never leave.”
I laughed at that and said, “Yeah, like the song ‘Hotel California,’” to which she responded with a puzzled look and said, “No, this is Minnesota.”
And that was that.
Ok, this one’s a doozie, but it’s 100% related to our recent visit. Also, it sounds very inappropriate, but I can assure you, within the dream, everything was above board.
I, MrsT, her sister, and two of her kids were walking around a junky outdoor flea market, because one of the sellers there had Phish tickets, and one of her kids wanted tickets.
The odd bit was, SIL was wearing nothing but a little teddy bear peek-a-boo lingerie thingy that left nothing much to the imagination.
I’d broken off from the group, looking at something else, and when I’d finished with that, I looked up to find everyone, and then I noticed…SIL wasn’t wearing any underpants! None! Everything was on full display, especially as there was a breeze, and it kept blowing the little top piece up, Marilyn Monroe style.
In a flash, I ran over, grabbed my SIL, and under the pretense of giving her a hug, I pulled her in tightly, covering her front with my front, and I whispered, “Jesus! You’re not wearing any underpants! Hold still!”
She squirmed anyway and shot back, “Let me go! You’re crazy! I am to wearing underpants!”
I got ahold of her again, then told her, “Look! Look down!” and when she did, it was obvious she wasn’t.
At that point, because the wind kept blowing up her, I clamped my hands over the bottom of her bottom, so to speak, to keep that covered.
There we stood in what appeared to all around us a…shall we say…loving embrace.
We then did the only reasonable thing: while still tightly holding onto one another, we began to bunny-hop, sideways no less, across the entirety of the flea market, me still holding her top down, until we made it to the car, which the others had thoughtfully fetched for us at some point.
Someone opened the door, we collapsed into the back seat, and roared away, and that was that. Dream over.
The analysis:
1. While we were visiting my SIL, she’d read a couple of news stories out loud, both detailing wearing lingerie as fashion, and said she had a mind to do the same thing.
2. SIL for years has delighted in telling people that, depending on the outfit, she doesn’t wear underpants. She said so again on this trip.
3. She’s always talking about scouring flea markets and yard sales for interesting finds.
4. Her son had called while we were there and they’d talked about seeing Phish.
So there you have it!
I, MrsT, her sister, and two of her kids were walking around a junky outdoor flea market, because one of the sellers there had Phish tickets, and one of her kids wanted tickets.
The odd bit was, SIL was wearing nothing but a little teddy bear peek-a-boo lingerie thingy that left nothing much to the imagination.
I’d broken off from the group, looking at something else, and when I’d finished with that, I looked up to find everyone, and then I noticed…SIL wasn’t wearing any underpants! None! Everything was on full display, especially as there was a breeze, and it kept blowing the little top piece up, Marilyn Monroe style.
In a flash, I ran over, grabbed my SIL, and under the pretense of giving her a hug, I pulled her in tightly, covering her front with my front, and I whispered, “Jesus! You’re not wearing any underpants! Hold still!”
She squirmed anyway and shot back, “Let me go! You’re crazy! I am to wearing underpants!”
I got ahold of her again, then told her, “Look! Look down!” and when she did, it was obvious she wasn’t.
At that point, because the wind kept blowing up her, I clamped my hands over the bottom of her bottom, so to speak, to keep that covered.
There we stood in what appeared to all around us a…shall we say…loving embrace.
We then did the only reasonable thing: while still tightly holding onto one another, we began to bunny-hop, sideways no less, across the entirety of the flea market, me still holding her top down, until we made it to the car, which the others had thoughtfully fetched for us at some point.
Someone opened the door, we collapsed into the back seat, and roared away, and that was that. Dream over.
The analysis:
1. While we were visiting my SIL, she’d read a couple of news stories out loud, both detailing wearing lingerie as fashion, and said she had a mind to do the same thing.
2. SIL for years has delighted in telling people that, depending on the outfit, she doesn’t wear underpants. She said so again on this trip.
3. She’s always talking about scouring flea markets and yard sales for interesting finds.
4. Her son had called while we were there and they’d talked about seeing Phish.
So there you have it!