This will be my third attempt at one of these. Hopefully it will stick this time because I'm going to do something a bit differently. My life is inherently boring and I much prefer being a nosy cow and sticking my beak into those of other, infinitely more interesting people. But something in another thread got me thinking. My dreams are sometimes either interesting, disturbing or strange enough to electric shock me awake. And it might be interesting to note some of them down. So this will be an infrequent and informal sort of dream blog. And whatever anyone else wants to add.

So, a couple from last night. One recurring, one not.

The first one I've had many times and it's always the same. I'm at home and it's a bright sunny day. The wind is blowing across the cornfield at the back of my house. The birds are singing and it's like any other day. Then the sky becomes overcast very quickly and sirens start blaring from somewhere. Even though there are no sirens where I live. And I find myself outside, in the middle of the field, whilst simultaneously hearing a news reporter talking about how something catastrophic is coming.

The sky becomes an ugly, churning black and suddenly this giant black tornado spawns in the other field next to the one I'm in. It's huge and angry. And for a while it just sits there. Then slowly starts to move towards me. I run back into the house and I can feel the whole house shaking and rumbling. My mum and brothers are also there for some reason, and they're kind of sat glued to the TV showing footage of this horrible black tornado moving towards the house. All I can think is "it's going to miss, it's going to miss, it's going to miss!"

Lightning starts flashing through the windows, but no thunder, until suddenly WHAM! The house feels like it's been flung sideways and upside down at the same time. I don't feel anything, or see anything other than this TV screen hovering in mid air. Stuck on a loop above the cacophony. "Tragedy struck today... tragedy struck today... tragedy struck today..." over and over. And then I hear the dripping of water and I somehow make the conscious decision it's time to wake up. Which I do usually feeling mentally exhausted.

...

The second one is... well it's just weird.

I'm waiting for someone. I'm not sure who it is. But we've agreed to meet up for a weekend, I think. I'm going to take them on a tour of the places of interest in the local area and they're going to come and stay at my place, we're going to order takeout and watch movies and stuff.

When I see this person, their appearance keeps changing. But I know it's the same person. One minute they're a small blonde woman, the next a tall brown-haired guy, and then someone very androgynous with shoulder length black hair. And many more different iterations. But they're all the same person. And that is completely normal for me. I don't see the big issue. But everywhere we go, everyone freaks out. And this person I am with I can see the sadness in them. But it's a resigned sadness, like they're used to it. And just want to hug them and tell them not to worry, and it's okay.

So we call off the sightseeing and just go back to my place.

We play some videogames, watch a movie, order a pizza and just talk about random stuff until the wee small hours. Then, even though I have a couple of spare rooms, I offer them my bed. I tell them I'll sleep on the couch. There's nothing... really intimate going on. It's not that kind of thing. And then the next thing I know it's the next morning and we're lying on the same bed. And my brother is standing there at the foot of the bed. A nasty look on his face.

He throws a letter at me and tells me he's contacted the police because this person I'm with is not normal and there are crimes against it. So I read the letter and it's a record of a conversation between him and who I can only assume is a cop. Begging them to come and arrest me.

And, again, that's where my brain (more consciously than I would have thought) decides to wake up. I felt kind of shaken.

...

As I say, this will probably be infrequent because a lot of my dreams aren't suitable for the site. They're way too dark. But... yeah. 🙂

Wow, this will be a cool thread. Dragons, tornadoes, and shapeshifters, oh my! 

When they arrest a shapeshifter, do they have to take separate mugshots of each of their various appearances? Do their fingerprints change, too?  😘

Stop watching Twister! 

Quote from: Sephirah on May 27, 2025, 04:16:37 PMBut something in another thread got me thinking. My dreams are sometimes either interesting, disturbing or strange enough to electric shock me awake.

Wow, Sephirah! Your dream life is anything but boring. I felt like I was watching a movie made by either Alfred Hitchcock or M. Night Shyamalan. Or even Lana and Lilly Wachowski. Thanks for the imagery, terrifying as it may be. My only recurring dream is of my first wife and (unlike our marriage) all the dreams are pleasant and often vivid. I'm probably not inclined to switch dream-lives with you but look forward to the installment of yours.

Lauren, thank you for opening this blog into your inner world, your dreams are vivid, haunting, and symbolic.

Also, I love the title "Lauren's Lair", it's mysterious and perfectly fitting.


~ Lilis 💗

I thought some of my dreams were odd but that tops them!!!

As a teen, I too had some pretty dark dreams that are not suitable to share here. In one, I woke up thoroughly disgusted with myself, wondering who would think of that? 

But one that I will share (not dark) that I recalled so vividly that I wrote it down in my journal. (dated 10 August 1975)

I was at a poetry recital. (Never been to one in my life, but ok). A man recited a poem he had written that left me puzzled. Afterwards, I met him and told him his poem made no sense. He laughed and said that was because I was looking at the forest and not the trees. 

He explained that I was so focused on trying to extract some meaning from the sentences that I missed the whole point. It is just a jumble of words that sound interesting despite their literal meaning. So I asked him to recite it again:

And again I saw the jennies
Flowing sweetly down boulder-strewn valleys of ever-increasing thoughtfulness.
They wept, gaily saddened by the dance of a thousand folding dooms.
And the purple jennies feasted on white-sandalled waters
While crystals flowed, while sempers slept.
And the yellow jennies slipped into the pools of forgetfulness.

He then asked me if I could tell him what the jennies are.
I had no clue. He said they are flowers.

I woke up thinking, "Oh yeah. That makes more sense." 
 

But I do like the way "boulder-strewn valleys of ever-increasing thoughtfulness" rolls off the tongue.  🙂

Quote from: Lori Dee on May 28, 2025, 01:39:52 PMHe said they are flowers.

Beautiful, Lori. Thanks. Keep dreaming such beautiful dreams.

Lori, that poem is incredible. And the fact that you remembered the poem is even more incredible.

Quote from: Lori Dee on May 27, 2025, 04:44:40 PMWow, this will be a cool thread. Dragons, tornadoes, and shapeshifters, oh my! 

When they arrest a shapeshifter, do they have to take separate mugshots of each of their various appearances? Do their fingerprints change, too?  😘

Stop watching Twister! 

I've actually... never thought about how a shapeshifter would go about dealing with the criminal justice system, lol. I love the way your brain works.

And you're probably right, I should stop watching Twister. Although I am not sure which came first. Whether it was that interest which led to the dream, or the dream which led to that interest. I don't remember how far back I've been having it. Other than... well... a long time.

Quote from: Mrs. Oliphant on May 27, 2025, 06:02:49 PMWow, Sephirah! Your dream life is anything but boring. I felt like I was watching a movie made by either Alfred Hitchcock or M. Night Shyamalan. Or even Lana and Lilly Wachowski. Thanks for the imagery, terrifying as it may be. My only recurring dream is of my first wife and (unlike our marriage) all the dreams are pleasant and often vivid. I'm probably not inclined to switch dream-lives with you but look forward to the installment of yours.

I am glad your recurring dreams are nice, Anni. You deserve that so much. <3 Trust me, you wouldn't want to switch. It's... a lot to deal with sometimes.

Quote from: Lilis on May 27, 2025, 11:54:35 PMLauren, thank you for opening this blog into your inner world, your dreams are vivid, haunting, and symbolic.

Also, I love the title "Lauren's Lair", it's mysterious and perfectly fitting.


~ Lilis 💗

Thank you, Lilis. You kind of had a hand in it, really. I'm not a blogging person by and large. But I kind of like how you have a space that's your own. This is how I can get around my hangups.

Quote from: davina61 on May 28, 2025, 03:01:42 AMI thought some of my dreams were odd but that tops them!!!

Any you want to share, Davina, the more the merrier! <3

Quote from: Lori Dee on May 28, 2025, 01:39:52 PMAs a teen, I too had some pretty dark dreams that are not suitable to share here. In one, I woke up thoroughly disgusted with myself, wondering who would think of that? 

But one that I will share (not dark) that I recalled so vividly that I wrote it down in my journal. (dated 10 August 1975)

I was at a poetry recital. (Never been to one in my life, but ok). A man recited a poem he had written that left me puzzled. Afterwards, I met him and told him his poem made no sense. He laughed and said that was because I was looking at the forest and not the trees. 

He explained that I was so focused on trying to extract some meaning from the sentences that I missed the whole point. It is just a jumble of words that sound interesting despite their literal meaning. So I asked him to recite it again:

And again I saw the jennies
Flowing sweetly down boulder-strewn valleys of ever-increasing thoughtfulness.
They wept, gaily saddened by the dance of a thousand folding dooms.
And the purple jennies feasted on white-sandalled waters
While crystals flowed, while sempers slept.
And the yellow jennies slipped into the pools of forgetfulness.

He then asked me if I could tell him what the jennies are.
I had no clue. He said they are flowers.

I woke up thinking, "Oh yeah. That makes more sense." 
 

But I do like the way "boulder-strewn valleys of ever-increasing thoughtfulness" rolls off the tongue.  🙂

The thing is, I know people who will tell you that every word has some incredibly symbolic meaning just because they like to sound smart. Even though that's missing the point entirely, lol.

Thank you for sharing, Lori. Any others you have... bring it on! <3

I wrote this down so it wouldn't take me 2 hours to type out, lol.

This is going to be a long read because there was kind of a lot going on in this dream. It was strange because it wasn't strange. Which will make sense at the end. I don't know whether to talk about stuff while I'm writing it out or save it for after. I think I'll just wing it and see how it goes. I'll put the dream stuff in italics and my own comments on it... not in italics, lol.

I wake up to sunlight in my eyes, with a headache. I didn't close the curtains properly last night and now I'm paying the price. It's early morning, around 6am. The birds have been up a while and I can see blue sky through the crack in the curtains. I feel sick and have to claw the thick, duck down duvet off myself with more effort than I'd have liked. There's a smell of woodsmoke and lavender in the room. My husband is burning stuff again outside. I keep telling him not to do it so close to the house but he never listens.

I remember the bed. It was heavy, iron I think. With little dull silver globes on top of each corner. Heavy flannel sheets, a monstrously thick duvet and a pale yellow blanket on top. I felt smothered. Like I was drowning and trying to come up for air. Which was a very unsettling feeling. The room had a sloped ceiling. I think the house wasn't all that large. Wooden floor, pale yellow curtains on the single window, barely reaching below the sill. Large dressing table in one corner. Dark wood. With a mirror on top. And a tall vase/jug type thing with several bunches of lavender in it. I've never been married, nor do I have any desire to be.

I walk slowly over to the dresser and sit down, staring at my own reflection in the mirror. Staring into my own eyes for what seems like an hour. I take my mother's pearl inlaid hairbrush and begin to work on my hair. It fights me at first, as always, but I have it tamed and decide to go for a braid. Practical and I like it.

This is... one of the unnerving parts of the whole thing. I'm not me. I'm not even the me I see when I do trance work and meditation. I am someone completely different. Smaller, around a foot shorter than my actual height I would guess. Dark brown eyes (my own eyes are grey/green), dark brown hair. Delicate, slim, but with a noticeable bump. I'm pregnant. Maybe a six weeks, or two months along. I can't really tell. I'm wearing a nightgown. Cotton. It reaches down to my feet. Obviously I can't get pregnant, but I've never even wanted to or entertained the notion even if it were possible. This woman in the mirror didn't look like me at all. But that didn't matter. Staring into her eyes I felt sadness, but also hope. And the fact that I wanted to sit there for a long while but knew I had things to do.

The hairbrush was beautiful. Silver handle with a row of pearls inlaid along its length. Many, many white bristles. I kind of picture it as something Victorian, but I don't think that was when the dream was set.

After washing my face in the porcelain bowl to one side of the dresser, I slip out of my nightgown and into one of my spring dresses. Soon these won't fit anymore. Already I'm feeling the tightness around my midsection. I smile and put my hand on my tummy. I hope it's a little girl. Three men in the family is more than enough already. I love my sons but they can be unruly.

So yeah, I already had two kids. Two little boys. Which is weird for the above reason. I've never thought of myself as a parent. Not ever. I am almost certain I would be horribly terrible at it. One was four and one was six. I'm not exactly sure how old I was in the dream. I think maybe mid-late 20s. Maybe. There was a lot I kind of didn't explain to myself, like a writer would explain to a reader, but things I just sort of... felt, or knew, you know? It's hard to put into words. Like living someone else's life. Seeing through someone else's eyes.

I hurriedly put on my sandals and half trotted downstairs and out of the side door. Nature calling. Sure enough my husband was standing there with a dirt-smudged smile on his face, in front of a crackling bonfire. Tangled branches and dry grass drifting grey smoke lazily into the air. I frowned at him but he just smiled more. So I gave up and ran to the toilet.

I'm not going to go into the details of it but yes, at the time it was all perfectly normal. Looking back on it now... I still have a kind of phantom body thing going on and it's a bit... weird. Let's just say I have sensations of stuff I shouldn't have sensations of, and don't know why. The toilet was out the side of the house, along a narrow path with oddly laid stones in it. Kind of like at my grandmother's house, but I still don't think this dream was set a long time in the past. Just a feeling.

I couldn't help but stare as I started back to the house. At the sheer beauty of things. The lake, still and calm. A saucer of deepest, wisest blue, carved into on one side by a gentle hill rising to meet the sky. Sometimes I wish I could just stay like this forever, looking at the simple majesty of it. Birds dart overhead, in seeming mock medieval jousting sessions. And I feel serene.

It really was beautiful. Like something you'd see in the Scottish Highlands, or the Lake District here in England. I have no idea where "Here" was. Only that it was so peaceful and untouched. There was a breeze, like almost the world was breathing. I think it maybe was a creation of somewhere I've been. Maybe Windermere or Conniston, in my past. The Lake District sure is something else. You almost feel outside of time. Like you could just stay there forever being one with the world.

I won't bore you with the rest, although I could go into absurdely minute details... it was that vivid. But I don't want to write a book. It literally lasted the whole day. I made breakfast, a porridge type deal with honey and berries of some kind. I'm not exactly sure what kind. In this giant pot on a wood burning stove. Then got an even larger pot and put in a couple of joints... one beef, one pork, and a third world country's supply of vegetables. For the evening meal. It would cook all day and fill the house with mouthwatering smells.

Then I settled down to... um... you know that sewing thing people do where they have the wood rings? I'm not entirely sure what that is called. But I was sewing a flower. With blue petals. I am useless at crafts but this woman was incredibly dextrous. I think from lots of practice. It felt very easy and relaxing. Meanwhile my sons were out helping their father, in whatever small ways he allowed them to. One of them fancied himself a Knight. It was adorable at the time, but feeling it now just feels... strange.

The moment I woke from this dream was when I was taking a bath in the evening. It was a metal tub that I had to fill with hot water from the stove. We didn't have running water in the house. Only a well at the back. So I had to use a kettle type contraption to dump water into it multiple times. And I lay down in it and started to drift off. That's when I woke up... like... for real.

And... I woke up feeling really, really dislocated and disorientated. I'd slept for 14 hours straight. Which is unusual for me. I normally sleep in broken segments of 3-4 hours before something, usually pain of some kind, wakes me up. So much about this life, this woman, was so different to how I live, or feel, or even thought I could feel... as I say I had, and still have the remains of a sort of phantom body. Initially I almost injured myself trying to stand up, heh. I still feel kind of disorientated even now. It's not the first time I've had a dream like this, but it is the first time in a long time. I don't think it's a memory or anything like that. I'm sure it's more likely a character for a story I've had buried in my brain for years, and never really experienced. But damn... it was strange. In the best way. I can still smell the lavender and woodsmoke.

Quote from: Sephirah on May 29, 2025, 02:41:52 PMI wrote this down so it wouldn't take me 2 hours to type out, lol.

This is going to be a long read because there was kind of a lot going on in this dream. It was strange because it wasn't strange. Which will make sense at the end. I don't know whether to talk about stuff while I'm writing it out or save it for after. I think I'll just wing it and see how it goes. I'll put the dream stuff in italics and my own comments on it... not in italics, lol.

I wake up to sunlight in my eyes, with a headache. I didn't close the curtains properly last night and now I'm paying the price. It's early morning, around 6am. The birds have been up a while and I can see blue sky through the crack in the curtains. I feel sick and have to claw the thick, duck down duvet off myself with more effort than I'd have liked. There's a smell of woodsmoke and lavender in the room. My husband is burning stuff again outside. I keep telling him not to do it so close to the house but he never listens.

I remember the bed. It was heavy, iron I think. With little dull silver globes on top of each corner. Heavy flannel sheets, a monstrously thick duvet and a pale yellow blanket on top. I felt smothered. Like I was drowning and trying to come up for air. Which was a very unsettling feeling. The room had a sloped ceiling. I think the house wasn't all that large. Wooden floor, pale yellow curtains on the single window, barely reaching below the sill. Large dressing table in one corner. Dark wood. With a mirror on top. And a tall vase/jug type thing with several bunches of lavender in it. I've never been married, nor do I have any desire to be.

I walk slowly over to the dresser and sit down, staring at my own reflection in the mirror. Staring into my own eyes for what seems like an hour. I take my mother's pearl inlaid hairbrush and begin to work on my hair. It fights me at first, as always, but I have it tamed and decide to go for a braid. Practical and I like it.

This is... one of the unnerving parts of the whole thing. I'm not me. I'm not even the me I see when I do trance work and meditation. I am someone completely different. Smaller, around a foot shorter than my actual height I would guess. Dark brown eyes (my own eyes are grey/green), dark brown hair. Delicate, slim, but with a noticeable bump. I'm pregnant. Maybe a six weeks, or two months along. I can't really tell. I'm wearing a nightgown. Cotton. It reaches down to my feet. Obviously I can't get pregnant, but I've never even wanted to or entertained the notion even if it were possible. This woman in the mirror didn't look like me at all. But that didn't matter. Staring into her eyes I felt sadness, but also hope. And the fact that I wanted to sit there for a long while but knew I had things to do.

The hairbrush was beautiful. Silver handle with a row of pearls inlaid along its length. Many, many white bristles. I kind of picture it as something Victorian, but I don't think that was when the dream was set.

After washing my face in the porcelain bowl to one side of the dresser, I slip out of my nightgown and into one of my spring dresses. Soon these won't fit anymore. Already I'm feeling the tightness around my midsection. I smile and put my hand on my tummy. I hope it's a little girl. Three men in the family is more than enough already. I love my sons but they can be unruly.

So yeah, I already had two kids. Two little boys. Which is weird for the above reason. I've never thought of myself as a parent. Not ever. I am almost certain I would be horribly terrible at it. One was four and one was six. I'm not exactly sure how old I was in the dream. I think maybe mid-late 20s. Maybe. There was a lot I kind of didn't explain to myself, like a writer would explain to a reader, but things I just sort of... felt, or knew, you know? It's hard to put into words. Like living someone else's life. Seeing through someone else's eyes.

I hurriedly put on my sandals and half trotted downstairs and out of the side door. Nature calling. Sure enough my husband was standing there with a dirt-smudged smile on his face, in front of a crackling bonfire. Tangled branches and dry grass drifting grey smoke lazily into the air. I frowned at him but he just smiled more. So I gave up and ran to the toilet.

I'm not going to go into the details of it but yes, at the time it was all perfectly normal. Looking back on it now... I still have a kind of phantom body thing going on and it's a bit... weird. Let's just say I have sensations of stuff I shouldn't have sensations of, and don't know why. The toilet was out the side of the house, along a narrow path with oddly laid stones in it. Kind of like at my grandmother's house, but I still don't think this dream was set a long time in the past. Just a feeling.

I couldn't help but stare as I started back to the house. At the sheer beauty of things. The lake, still and calm. A saucer of deepest, wisest blue, carved into on one side by a gentle hill rising to meet the sky. Sometimes I wish I could just stay like this forever, looking at the simple majesty of it. Birds dart overhead, in seeming mock medieval jousting sessions. And I feel serene.

It really was beautiful. Like something you'd see in the Scottish Highlands, or the Lake District here in England. I have no idea where "Here" was. Only that it was so peaceful and untouched. There was a breeze, like almost the world was breathing. I think it maybe was a creation of somewhere I've been. Maybe Windermere or Conniston, in my past. The Lake District sure is something else. You almost feel outside of time. Like you could just stay there forever being one with the world.

I won't bore you with the rest, although I could go into absurdely minute details... it was that vivid. But I don't want to write a book. It literally lasted the whole day. I made breakfast, a porridge type deal with honey and berries of some kind. I'm not exactly sure what kind. In this giant pot on a wood burning stove. Then got an even larger pot and put in a couple of joints... one beef, one pork, and a third world country's supply of vegetables. For the evening meal. It would cook all day and fill the house with mouthwatering smells.

Then I settled down to... um... you know that sewing thing people do where they have the wood rings? I'm not entirely sure what that is called. But I was sewing a flower. With blue petals. I am useless at crafts but this woman was incredibly dextrous. I think from lots of practice. It felt very easy and relaxing. Meanwhile my sons were out helping their father, in whatever small ways he allowed them to. One of them fancied himself a Knight. It was adorable at the time, but feeling it now just feels... strange.

The moment I woke from this dream was when I was taking a bath in the evening. It was a metal tub that I had to fill with hot water from the stove. We didn't have running water in the house. Only a well at the back. So I had to use a kettle type contraption to dump water into it multiple times. And I lay down in it and started to drift off. That's when I woke up... like... for real.

And... I woke up feeling really, really dislocated and disorientated. I'd slept for 14 hours straight. Which is unusual for me. I normally sleep in broken segments of 3-4 hours before something, usually pain of some kind, wakes me up. So much about this life, this woman, was so different to how I live, or feel, or even thought I could feel... as I say I had, and still have the remains of a sort of phantom body. Initially I almost injured myself trying to stand up, heh. I still feel kind of disorientated even now. It's not the first time I've had a dream like this, but it is the first time in a long time. I don't think it's a memory or anything like that. I'm sure it's more likely a character for a story I've had buried in my brain for years, and never really experienced. But damn... it was strange. In the best way. I can still smell the lavender and woodsmoke.

amazing detail.

Cross stitch. Embroidery. Surreal, Sephirah, and sublime. Thank you.

Quote from: Annaliese on May 29, 2025, 02:54:02 PMamazing detail.

Quite unsettling detail honestly, Anna. It was a dream I wouldn't have been upset if I never woke up from. And I don't know how to feel about that.

Quote from: Mrs. Oliphant on May 29, 2025, 03:02:20 PMCross stitch. Embroidery. Surreal, Sephirah, and sublime. Thank you.

Um... yeah, one of those. Embroidery sounds about right. Thank you, Anni. I am all thumbs when it comes to stuff like that. Wouldn't know a knitting needle from a sewing needle.

Wow, wonderful! Because of the length of the dream and the vivid detail, I think it could be a past-life memory. Like you, I only sleep for three hours tops, then pain or noise will wake me. So when I have a long, vivid dream where I can recall many details, I pay attention.

I think the sewing thing with wooden rings was needlepoint.  🙂

Quote from: Lori Dee on May 29, 2025, 03:09:38 PMWow, wonderful! Because of the length of the dream and the vivid detail, I think it could be a past-life memory. Like you, I only sleep for three hours tops, then pain or noise will wake me. So when I have a long, vivid dream where I can recall many details, I pay attention.

I think the sewing thing with wooden rings was needlepoint.  🙂

Thank you, Lori. I don't know. I'm kind of hesitant to pin it down to that. There's always the part of me that's a skeptic to that kind of thing, I don't know. I don't really know enough details to be certain of it. Like names, or places. I only know what it felt like being someone else. As someone who invents characters for a hobby... I just don't know. I do know the feelings though. Things I don't know how to feel. And even now don't know how to process how that feels. I have not had HRT, or any kind of surgery (at least not in that regard) so it weirds me out to feel how I feel sometimes in my dreams. Not in a bad way, I should add. The trouble comes when I wake up, lol. I have had a few of these dreams. One of them I was an elderly gentleman and it felt just as weird.

I think my mind is just Alice through the Looking Glass, lol. Maybe you're right. I can't say. I kind of just pay attention to stuff like this, as you say. Because it makes a huge impression.

Um... needlepoint, sure! I honestly don't know. White fabric. Stretched inside wooden rings. With an outline of a flower I was slowly filling in with sewing in different coloured threads. That's the best I can do.

I guess it could be embroidery.
https://www.amazon.com/Beginners-Children-Needlepoint-Embroidery-12x12inch/dp/B0D62H3XJ4 🔗

This is fantastic stuff, Lauren. I remember a lot from my dreams, but never this level of detail.

I also wonder about past life. My wife and I have many times had experiences where we share an awareness of being two completely different people. I'm skeptical, too, but there have been times when I've felt it and said nothing, then she says something, and it describes very well what I'm feeling. And vice versa. So I'm at least open to the possibility.

I've done my fair share of cross stitch. It uses the hoops. So do embroidery and quilting.

Quote from: Lori Dee on May 29, 2025, 03:54:04 PMI guess it could be embroidery.
https://www.amazon.com/Beginners-Children-Needlepoint-Embroidery-12x12inch/dp/B0D62H3XJ4 🔗

That looks right. I have no idea. I spent hours doing that and it was okay. I think actually I would go out of my brain with boredom trying to do it for real. Massive respect for the artistic people in the world who can do things like that. This girl could do stuff like that. But I just... can't. I would get probably bored, or annoyed with it.

Quote from: Pema on May 29, 2025, 03:56:03 PMThis is fantastic stuff, Lauren. I remember a lot from my dreams, but never this level of detail.

I also wonder about past life. My wife and I have many times had experiences where we share an awareness of being two completely different people. I'm skeptical, too, but there have been times when I've felt it and said nothing, then she says something, and it describes very well what I'm feeling. And vice versa. So I'm at least open to the possibility.

I've done my fair share of cross stitch. It uses the hoops. So do embroidery and quilting.

So we're agreed it's one of those!

Pema, feel free to share anything here, honey. This is open to everyone. I feel self conscious talking about myself too much and would welcome what other people have to share. <3

Lauren, do you feel like your dreams have "meaning" or are messages in any way? I know people who believe they must, and I'm not convinced. My dreams are so often so odd - absurd, really - that it's impossible for me to imagine what useful information they could possibly be conveying to me.

I fly often in my dreams. It's become one of the surest indicators that it's a dream. Same with the classic "Back in school, didn't know there was an exam" dream. I've had those so often that I frequently tell everyone (in the dream), "This is a dream! Nobody needs to worry about anything happening here! It's not real!" Of course they all look at me as if I've lost my mind.