#dream memory

[stingrayextraordinaire]

Gaelic Song Moodboards // Aishling Cuimhn' (Dream Memory)

An daimh 'san càirdeas bh' againn uair rinn cuan a sgaradh bhuainn gu bràth.

[hokeoutsider]

“Dream Memory”     T-Marie Nolan...Ebay Outsider-Art Auction...Sept 28-Oct 5...Acrylic Painting on Wood...

https://www.ebay.com/sch/metrolux6/m.html?item=353214147023&rt=nc&_trksid=p2047675.l2562

[uncoolalec]

I, kid you not, dreamt of a 1926 3-litre Bentley. What does Book!Crowley want from me?? 

[hikikomoriio]

I had a dream

I was searching for an answer

Walking through the rain

You spoke to me so gently

That I had almost forgotten about all of my pain 

You have a certain way of walking

That lets me know you better

Fists clenched tight on the sidewalk

As we got passively wetter

And I wanted to tell you 

That you looked a little lost 

When I first met you I knew there’d 

                                   Be a cost

The Scattered pieces surrounding

Ground is littered like the night’s sky,

As you gaze through All of my design

[ryouskye]

I suddenly remembered a really strange dream

It was like a year or longer ago and I suddenly though about it when the topic dreams came up somewhere on pinterest?? (I also dreamt about something with swimming elephants tonight, but that was something else)

This is a D.Gray-man-dream, I sometimes dream of anime characters, like last night too

I was Allen Walker and Cross Marian passed out drunk (as usual) and I had to haul him home or somewhere else

But then suddenly

He was a fucking giant slice of cheese and really heavy and I cursed him mentally for being a huge slice of cheese.

I’ve never taken drugs and I never will, but my dreams are like this every time when I remember them, I swear. Nothing realistic, just this shit.

[northeastartist]

Cursed

I knew this was the right thing, but... It felt off. I promised myself I’d never return to this place. The stone walls rose around me like a fort. Like a forboding castle. I felt a chill in the air, despite the temperature being a pleasant 75 degrees of warm androgynous city air. This was what I’m sure many people felt when they were watching Nosferatu. The tension built higher as I knocked gently on the door, a warm breeze rippling through my evening dress. I knew what was right. My friend was already getting ready to do the dirty work while I charmed the head of the household. 

The door opened, and... like a sepia-filtered figure, the butler opened the door, allowing me in, greeting me with what I felt was a forcibly warm smile. This wasn’t the true butler. But a fake. A clone. He bowed to me, and went off to grab his master. I breathed deeply, looking around. It was as though the foyer was trapped in a moment. The moment where we walked in for the first time. The moment before our fate. The moment before the DA was doomed. 

A distant clacking of dress shoes told me that the man of curiosity- if he ever is still a man- was approaching. He walked towards me, and somehow, it felt like the interior’s warmth was sucked away, like it was holding a breath and let go. The foyer reduced to a cold, icy tone- the chandelier’s lights flickered and sparked out, the bouquet of flowers on the center table immediately wilted and died into rotting vegetation. A cool breeze swept through as the man of the hour approached- Like a walking doll. Carefully placed steps and gentle clacking of shoes on marble flooring. I felt my spine tingle and my blood almost freeze. 

He was like a cursed object. He seemed normal, but yet his presence radiated an alarming measurement of evil. Of the Old Darkness. The Darkness man fended off with fires, the Darkness that would drive a human crazy. The Darkness that many would call ‘the devil’, ‘eldritch’, ‘the Unknown’. This was a darkness that protruded fear. His smile felt wrong. Like a smile with too many teeth. Like a snake before the kill. His skin was like porcelain, colored a foggy gray, and seemed so fragile, one urgent nudge would cause it to break. His eyes felt like the oily blackness of the deep waters- so dark that not even light could emit easily. His hairs were showing spots of gray, and showing that, despite cleansing himself, was like dry strands of hay. Brittle and coarse. 

He felt wrong. He felt like something that shouldn’t be existing. He felt like a picture that if one looked too far into it, they would be sucked into it, forever in horrific agony.

He gracefully bowed, took my hand, and gently placed a polite kiss of greeting on it. HIs lips felt like old, stiff leather, frozen for a few hours.

“Welcome. I have been expecting you.”

[autism-asks]

Iiaat to not remember your dreams at all? (And if not can you point me in a direction for research?)

I found this article on Live Science about why some people remember dreams more than others.  Their data suggests that people who don’t remember their dreams also don’t respond as strongly to auditory stimuli, so it could be related to sensory hyposensitivity.

Here is another study specifically dealing with autism and dreams that found lower dream recall in autistic adults than among the general population.

So, yes, they do seem to be related.

-Liz

Personally, I almost never remember my dreams. The rare times I do remember my dreams, they tend to very quickly slip away from me unless I write them down or immediately talk about them. 

I find the data that Liz found interesting because I’m actually hypersensitive to auditory stimuli. Further, I have near perfect auditory memory, as in, I can perfectly remember peoples voices, music, etc. Like, when I have a song playing in my head, I actually hear everything as if I were listening to a CD. However, I have aphantasia (no pictures in my head) so I wonder if that has something to do with it...

-Sabrina