I have a mechanism I use in dreams when I feel ‘threatened.’
I start hitting things. What this means is open handed smacks of walls, furniture, etc. To note if I feel sensation.
Usually that’s enough to help draw me out of the dream.
I had to do this last night. Typical dream.. weirdness. Strange twisty hotel/parking area/etc…
Then there was this guy. I just got a tonne of feelings that said, “You’re not supposed to be here.”
He sort of looked like Mark Gattis as the young Lazarus in Doctor Who.
I started hitting things and eventually thought I’d woken up. I’d really just moved to another part of the dream.
Later he came back. The moment I noticed him, he went from trying to be inconspicuous to coming at me.
There were 2 or 3 bad karate moves between us. I tried to push him away with my mind. That failed. Then he leaned into me like he was going to take a bite out of my stomach.
I mentally pushed him away and he dissolved away like an impressive computer effect. I woke up.
Strange dream. Strange person. Odd because I remember (though it’s fading) the face. And above all else, the distinct feeling of “You don’t belong here.”
Odd. But then again.. I probably shouldn’t watch Torchwood right before bed.
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Hmm. Something wicked this way oozes apparently went wandering through a big swathe of the collective unconsciousness last night. *thwack*
Very strange.
I have chronic nightmares–always have. But I recall a particularly satisfying “thump” in one that served to stop the terror.
In the dream, my apartment (at the time), doorbell rang, and I opened it. There was a very old man standing there, dressed as a preacher, holding a bible in both hands. Where his eyes should have been, there were just these grey-black holes. No depth, yet infinite deathly distance–like the eye-holes in a skull. I was terrified.
Then Mr. Creepy Preacher raised the bible over his head with both hands, and started yelling fire-and-brimstone stuff at me, about how I was going to burn in hell, the wages of sin is death, blah blah blah. And suddenly, instead of being scared, I was mad. Furious. And I thought, “I really *don’t* have to stand here and listen to this shit…this is MY home!” And I slammed the door right in Preacher Man’s face, with all the force I could muster.
And it made a very satisfying *thump*. (Quick, catch the reference!)
But I didn’t wake up. Instead, as I stood there listening (still in the dream), I heard Preacher Man shuffle over to the next apartment door, and ring the doorbell there. I snorted with contempt and stomped away.
But I still remember that feeling of satisfaction and release–THUMP! 🙂