A dream so real …
I am 19 and I had this dream so real that I can’t seem to get over, it has stayed with me. When I dream, I don’t remember or if I do, it is always about a situation that is happening in my life and I always recognize the people and see them very clearly, but it never feels real, it’s almost like a daze.
This dream felt so realistic to me. I was in my mid-twenties. All around me were houses, sort of hut-like and close together on both sides and only divided by a dirt path, but most were set on fire and there were people leaving these houses with their belongings and loved ones, but in the dream I was not.
I could hear his whisper…
I walked passed a man who was leaving his home and once he had ran off it was now mine, but I wasn’t alone. There was a white man there, also in his mid-twenties. I knew he was not meant to be there with me but our eyes met. All I did was giggle. The whole time he was speaking in a whisper so low I couldn’t understand, and in that moment, it was just me and him in a bright white room and he sat and we were in an almost intimate hug. I could not see his face because it was in my neck and I could hear his whisper, it had a slight accent but I couldn’t understand.
I played with his hair and I could really feel his hair between my hands and the heat of his soft skin. Once he stopped whispering and pulled back to look me in the eyes, I woke up with this sadness and it’s stayed and I have flashes in my sleep of his face looking up at me and wake up crying. Someone please help.
— Yamiles, Puerto Rico & Wisconsin
(Heavily edited.) Thanks for your story, Yamiles. — Kat
My dream so real …
My similar experience of feeling hair between my fingers was so real it startled me, too, and the sensation and the details remain with me even though years have passed. I wrote about and included my dream in my paranormal thriller Premonition of Terror, where the reader is introduced to the protagonist, reluctant psychic Kate Kasabian who believes her runaway lover has returned.
Her hand traced his shoulder and slid up the back of his neck. Her fingers combed through his hair with gentle strokes like so many times before.
The bedroom was too quiet. No fabric rustled with her movements. No psychic voices played in her head.
No lover sighed at her touch.
Her eyes shot open. …