Dreams Pt. 6- Attics,Basements,and Skies

I had a dream the other night where I was in a house, and there was a room in the attic, accessable by a pull-down ladder and a trapdoor. I don't remember much else about this dream...it was one of those dreams where nothing really happens. What it does illustrate is that a recurring theme in my dreams is houses or apartments with weird features. Sometimes it's an attic like my dream the other night. Often it's a basement, that goes on and on, and gets deeper and deeper, with doors leading to sub-basements. At least once I dreamt of a huge house I was visiting that I got lost in, wandering through room after room. It was kind of cool seeing all these different rooms, as if the house was growing as I passed through it.
Another element that pops up on a fairly regular basis in my dreams is the sky. The sky often looks , well, bigger in my dreams...it's hard to explain. Also, the sky will often be a strange color, or there will be something going on, like huge images being projected into the sky, or comets and giagantic planets looming overhead. At times there's ominous thunderclouds or tornadoes. And in one dream, the night sky cast a dark blue light over all, and I found a black sword impaled in the ground, in a field of knee-high grass that swayed in the gentle night wind. I took the sword and went home, the breezes the only sound as I walked through the blue night.
As with any of the other dreams I've had, I have absolutely no clue as to what, if anything, they may mean. But I keep looking up at the sky...

Dreams Pt. 5- The Lion Doesn't Sleep Tonight

A few years ago, I had another transformatory dream of a sort. At the beginning of the dream, I woke up in the back of a truck with a cage welded over the bed. I was locked in the cage. I was wearing black military -style pants and boots. I had no shirt, and I noticed that my midsection was even hairier than usual...I was covered in tawny fur. I looked in the back window of the truck and saw my face...it was as if my features were crossed with that of a lion or some other big cat. I was being taken to a base of some kind. I didn't know what was going on, only that I didn't like it. I pried the bars of the cage apart a bit, and crashed my fist through the back window and proceeded to choke the driver, sinking my claws into his neck. He stopped the truck, and I forced my way out of the cage. I saw two figures running towards me. They were wearing camoflage pants and combat boots, but were shirtless like myself. They were covered in sleek black fur, and had the heads of large Dobermans, snapping and slavering as they ran towards me. At first, I was pretty scared, but then I realized- they're dogs, and I'm a lion. Screw these guys! I stood my ground and literally tore into them. Flesh , bone, and blood were like paper to my claws and fangs, and the dogmen were reduced to a bloody, howling mess in short order. I looked about to see what my next move was, but I woke up...I guess the adrenaline gets the best of me , because I almost always wake up at times like these in my dreams.
I think any sort of dream analysis would not be flattering for me, but hey, this is what my head plays for me in my sleep.

Dreams Pt. 4- Wolf Dreams

Years ago I had a couple of dreams that stuck with me. In one I was running down this backroad somewhere, with lots of trees around, and there was some water standing in small puddles, as if it had rained recently. As I was running, I lurched forward, and when I put my hands out to brace my fall, I saw that they were large paws instead. My new limbs hit the ground running, and without a misstep, I was running on all fours, faster than Hell. I stopped at at large puddle on the side of the road, and saw my reflection. I was a large wolf, with light-colored fur. I thought this was pretty cool, and I took off running again, as fast as I could.

In another dream I was in a convertible car, a red one, I think, and there was a full moon out. I reached up and grabbed my face, and pulled it off like a mask. Beneath was the face of a wolf, which I could see in the rearview mirror. I smiled a fang-filled smile at my reflection.

In neither of these dreams was I upset at my transformations, and I don't think of them as nightmares. I don't know what this means about me, my subconcious, or anything else for that matter. It does explain why I like a full moon, though....

Dreams pt. 1 - Final Battle, Red Axe In Hand

I've been reading some of Lana's older posts on dreams, and it brought to mind a very vivid dream I had a few years back. It was one of those dreams where you're so deep in it, you aren't aware that you're dreaming, and you believe every bit of it to be real. Also, I was not myself in this dream, and it was all from my point of view, as if it was all happening right there for real.
I was walking with my people on a cold morning. It was just cold enough to see your breath. I couldn't see my own face, but my hair was as long as it is in waking life, though a bit darker. I think we were Celts or Picts from the way we were dressed...some had on rough kilts of a sort, or breeches. I had a kilt made of some kind of deerskin, I think, leather shoes , and straps of leather wrapped around my legs. I had leather arm braces, a roughspun shirt with a leather chestpiece over it, and I carried with me an axe made of dark iron, with a large single blade and a spiked backpiece, with a spike on top as well. My fellows were all armed with short swords, spears, axes, and such. We were going to take our place on a large hill. I knew that the enemy was coming, and our women and children were fleeing . Our intention was to buy them time to make their escape. We didn't really think we would win this battle, since our enemy outnumbered us...but we had to try, if for no other reason than to hold them up so our people could get away.
We didn't wait long after reaching the top of the hill, for we soon saw the enemy approaching. They were Romans, with their standards raised and trumpets blaring, their shiny armor, crested helmets , and bright red cloaks in stark contrast to our crew in our earth tones and lightly armored state. There were so many of them. We all looked at each other, some shook hands and patted shoulders while others nodded grimly to each other. I noted all this peripherally, for my main attention was on the approaching Roman army. I was fairly sure this would be my last day, but my fear dropped away as they drew nearer. I felt myself grow more enraged with their each approaching step. How dare these dogs invade our lands, kill our people, enslave our women and children, in the name of their "peace"? I gripped the shaft of my axe so tightly that my knuckles cracked. They may take my life today, I thought, but I'll take as many of them as I can with me. The space between our two groups grew smaller until they charged up the hill. I was in the front line , and I wanted it no other way. The first Roman ran up and held his large rectangular shield up as I swung my axe. I heard his arm snap , follwed by his scream of pain. He dropped his shield, and I swung my axe back around and planted it on the right side of his neck. He screamed even louder as his blood sprayed on me, hot in the cold morning air. I kicked him aside as the Roman behind him tried to stab me with his spear. I batted it aside and grabbed it, pulling him forward, so that he stumbled over his dying comrade. I split helmet and skull with my next swing. I threw the Roman spear into the throng swarming up the hill, grinning with satisfaction when it stuck into an armored chest. I struck the next Roman full in the face with the top spike of my axe. Screams , yells , and the smell of blood filled the air as I looked for my next victim, adrenaline and rage flowing through me...and at that point I woke up, sitting up in bed, sweating, looking around my room, wondering where the Hell I was and who the Hell I was.
A freind of mine swears that this was a past-life thing. I'm not sure, since I read history and fiction that deals with this sort of thing all the time. It may have just been my mind entertaining me in my sleep. All I know is that I wish the dream would have gone on a bit longer...I'm curious to see if I lived or died.
Dreams are strange...sometimes they make no sense, and other times they follow a "script" of sorts. Sometimes I know I'm dreaming , other times I don't. Sometimes I am myself, Scott, in my dreams, other times I'm someone else, like this Celtic/Pictish warrior. I think I'm going to start keeping a journal by the bedside to write dreams down in, so I remember them...although this is one I'll never forget.