Gorilla Burger

I dreamt that an 800-pound gorilla came to visit me. He was very polite. I let him hold the baby. My friend Rachel was also visiting and had made a tiny hamburger for herself. It was adorable – miniature down to the pickles.

The gorilla was disappointed that Rachel had made only one hamburger. She apologized and offered to share. He gallantly declined. I offered to make another for him. He gallantly declined. Nothing else was mentioned.

[submitted by Smax]


Gigantic Contact Lens

This is a recurring dream which has occurred less since I started wearing glasses instead of contact lenses. I wake in the morning and stand before the mirror, preparing for the day.

I’m having trouble with one of my contact lenses; it just doesn’t want to go into my eye. I reach for contact solution and when I’m about to drop some on the lens, I’m startled by the sudden enormous size of the lens. Instead of resting on the tip of my finger, it is now the size of a kitchen plate and has shifted into my palm.

I wonder how I’ve been inserting them all these years, and, furthermore, how I had just managed to get one in my left eye just this morning. I pour a large amount of solution onto the plate-lens to match its size. Hmm, it still doesn’t seem possible, but I give it a try anyway.

The unruly lens slips partially under my upper lid but starts to fold. I continue shoving until somehow, miraculously, the lens goes in.

[submitted by Dr. Hallucinadi]

“Stupid kind of flying”

We found this vlog entry about flying dreams by someone named Thistlewait on youtube:

It also drew this response from another youtube member, guidotnb:


I was at the seaside with Hilary. We were talking about how we would die, and I had either already died, or had had a dream in which I learned how I was going to die (drowning in saltwater). I was not sure whether I might be able to avert this doom. My death seemed to hover in a nebulous area between past, present and future. I took a shower, and felt I had the power to predict other people’s deaths as well.

It turned out that my Dad had HIV, and I thought how sad it was that he would have to use a condom even though he is in a monogamous relationship. I was also concerned that that he couldn’t donate blood or organs to me if I had to be hospitalized.

We were back at the old house where my Dad lived when I was a kid. There was some debate going on about how many rooms were in the house, and where his house ended and the neighbor’s began. I remembered that he had done some remodelling, but I couldn’t remember whether or not this had created an extra bedroom that could be only be reached by going through his bedroom. There was a large second story to the house, which isn’t there in waking life. Even in my dream, I couldn’t remember having ever been up to the second floor, but I shrugged off the confusion, remembering vaguely that we only used the second story for storage, which itself struck me as strange, given how nice and large the second story was.

In the dream, the front lawn sort of blended into the field across the street, and while walking out there I saw the carcass of a raven in the tall grass. The raven was as large as a medium-sized or even a larger-than-average dog. I was slightly grossed out to discover that I’d gotten a little bit of raven-carcass on me. Then I noticed other ravens lying still in the grass or wheat or whatever was growing in the field. They were all as large as the first dead raven, and lying perfectly still, but they were completely alive. I tried prodding one to rouse it, but it wouldn’t move. It occured to me that they must be digesting after a big meal, and that they were conserving energy until their stomaches had emptied enough to make it worthwhile to go out looking for a fresh kill.

The ravens began to stir and take off, in search of carion. I thought I’d better not lie down or they might mistake me for a carcass and try to eat me. Then I was one of them, and we were flying back towards my Dad’s house. I was flapping slowly, and flying, but not very successfully (I was slow and didn’t soar like the other ravens) because I didn’t have their instinct for how to flap. I thought about the heavy black solidness of ravens compared to other birds, and this made me think of the kind of thick glasses worn by Buddy Holly or Elvis Costello, who have always been sort of interchangeable in my mind. I was still a human and had arms, not wings, but this didn’t stop me from flying clumsily and haltingly back towards my Dad’s house.

I saw Elvis Costello / Buddy Holly lying in the field, bloody and damaged. Someone had been torturing him and he was bleeding out of his anus. I started carrying him back to my Dad’s house, where some type of theatrical event was going to be happening. I was still a raven and carried him there through the air. I was going to blame his torture on some rival faction which was secretly in cahoots with a group to which I belonged. It’s unclear what these factions were- they might have been gangs of ravens, political parties or perhaps theatre companies.

[submitted by Anonymous]

Flappy Flying

I was in the park near my house, back home in California. The world was under invasion by bad guys and also there was a big carnival going on. I decided to fly around to fight bad guys and check out the carnival games. People were cowering / eating cotton candy. I needed to act. I needed to take flight. Only for some reason the only way I knew how to fly was very un-heroic. I sat down and sort of balanced on my tailbone and started kicking my legs as if at a toddler swim lesson and flapping my arms and hands really, really fast, like, as fast as I could. Slowly, slowly I floated up off the ground and started careening around, but not accomplishing anything like fighting bad guys because it took all my concentration just to flap my limbs fast enough to fly. It seemed weird that such frantic activity could produce such smooth flying. I began to feel self-conscious and flapped up higher to where there were some airplanes and bombs but couldn’t get much done up there so I just enjoyed the ride.

PS—Before I stopped dancing, probably half of my dreams involved
flying. Now they rarely do.

[submitted by Seth]

Non-stop South America to Northern Europe

I was in some Peruvian/Arabian village with stone steps and arches and little canopied vendors (shut down for the night). It was late enough that no one was out; the stone city square in which I stood cast in bright silvery moonlight. I felt my limbs being lifted individually like a marionette, and I rose upward readily to where I could look down at the village maybe 100 feet below. At this point I was aware of my power to fly, and shot forward decisively, zooming across the Atlantic Ocean (having originated somewhere in South America). The moonlit Atlantic passed below me in a matter of seconds and I was over Russia/Germany by the end of my journey and dream.

[submitted by Jake]

Floating around the Supermarket

My first of only two flying dreams occurred maybe 10 years ago. It was one of the greatest feelings I’ve ever had, and I’ve hoped and wished and tried very hard to have subsequent flying dreams to no avail, save one about 4 years ago.

I remember walking down a barren street along a stone wall (as in Wallace and Grommit pogo stick scene) and began getting more air as I took two bouncing steps. My clumsy third stride was barely enough to get me airborne and I glided slowly upward, my knees and lower legs knocking over the crumbling top of the wall. As I looked down, the wall was one of several isles in a grocery store – rather dark and closed for the night, and I was knocking cereal boxes and canned goods off the upper shelves as I hung lazily below the dark acoustical tiling marked by occasional rectangular flourescent lightboxes. It was a delightful drunken sort of fun as I crossed several isles this way toppling things over, but the fact that I was inside prevented me from exploring much further. Soon I was back to the floor with little or no ability to stay afloat.

[submitted by Jake]