I Sacrificed My Dream-Inspired Product for Ellen DeGeneres

Yes, I awoke with a GREAT idea for a product! But I can't design it or even produce it without hurting Ellen DeGeneres. Here is why:

How to "Know Yourself" by Correctly Interpreting Your Dreams

Are you curious about what your dreams mean to YOU? Numerous books discuss dream symbolism, but archetypal symbols may mean something completely different in YOUR dreams. Here is: 

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My Cousin Killed His Sister

Alfred Hitchcock

Ghost Adventures Crew

What does watching marathons of Alfred Hitchcock and Ghost Adventures on Netflix have to do with a dream about a cousin killing his sister? Plenty! 

When the dream begins, I’m sitting in the back of a church with my mother. She hands me photos of my father who just died. Now we’re in a basement (a little background here – my family reunions are often held in a church basement) and my cousin takes his sister to a closet that has a deep hole in it, a hole he has obviously dug himself. He throws his sister into the hole and tells me not to tell anyone. I am deeply disturbed about keeping this secret, and I vow that the moment he leaves the room, I’m going to call the police. The dream ends at that point.

Sometimes we know exactly WHY we have the dreams we dream (my marathon of Hitchcock and Ghost Adventures), but we don’t know why we place certain people in those scenarios. My cousins have a beautiful relationship with each other. They’re very close and get together often. They even share a lot of the same interests and attend the same church. So why my subconscious chose the two of them for my dream mystifies me. 

Or does it? Sometimes the people you think are least likely to commit crimes, the ones you’d never consider, are the ones who commit them. And yet some signs exist – in retrospect. In the case of my cousins, they don’t, because they truly do have a loving relationship, but have you ever been surprised by the discovery of crimes committed by people who were “model” citizens?

By the way, if you have an active imagination, as I do, try mixing up your Alfred Hitchcock and Ghost Adventures marathons with a little comedy. I might have dreamed that my cousin threw his sister into the hole and then she bounced back up and landed inside a basketball net.

Photo of Alfred Hitchcock is from wikimedia commons. Photo of Ghost Adventures is from the Travel Channel.

Pay Attention to EVERYTHING!

I don't know if I was going for a new job, but for some reason I had to be somewhere to get tested and I was going with my granddaughter, Taylor.

I had to park in a parking lot and then walk to a stool outside the parking lot to sit down and wait. I saw one stool open so I walked to it, but somebody got there first and just as I was about to leave to find another spot, somebody pointed out another open stool.

Now I'm in a house, but I don't know whose, and, for some reason, I don't have shoes, so I have to borrow Taylor's shoes but Taylor's shoes don't fit, because they are too big. 

Before we leave, somebody tells us that we need to pay attention to EVERYTHING because the tiniest detail will be on the test. But EVERYTHING bores me apparently because I forget to pay attention until midway through the test when I realize that even the minutest detail, something in the background, for instance, might be on that test. So I start paying attention to EVERYTHING.

A rifle, or something that looks like a rifle must have been included in the instructions, too, because when it was time to leave I was told to hang it in the closet before I left.

###

Any time anyone dreams about a test, the obvious thing to consider is that the person is about to be tested in some way, not in school necessarily, but in life. The fact that I was dreaming about my granddaughter and that I was wearing her shoes might have meant that she was being tested, and in order to understand how she was being tested, I needed to walk in her shoes.

I don't remember carrying a gun in this dream except for the part where I was told to hang it in the closet. Guns to me mean violence and protection. Perhaps I was trying to protect her, but in the dream I didn't need a gun to do it. This dream will take a little more contemplation on my part.

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Visit from Departed Loved Ones

This dream will make more sense if I relate to you the correlations between the dream and my waking life.

My former mother-in-law, Lorraine, has been residing in an assisted living facility for quite a while and this past year, her son (my ex) moved her closer to where he and one of my daughters live. 

Nearly every week I travel 85 miles to watch my son's kids (they live about ten miles from her new home), and I try to visit my former mother-in-law every time I care for my grandchildren.

Lorraine had a very good friend, Dolores, when she was living in the home she owned for several decades before she lost her ability to care for herself. Dolores died several years ago. In my dream, I am visiting Lorraine and a priest is in her room talking to somebody I don't recognize. Lorraine is in another room in the home. I leave her room and run into Dolores. Surprised to see her, I tell Dolores that Lorraine will be so happy to see her.

I later leave the facility with my grandchildren. Taylor is sitting in the front seat with me. Kaden and Zac are both sitting in the back seat. The car is not responding to my movements though, and even though I appear to be having difficulty maneuvering the car through traffic and at one point actually fall under the steering wheel, Taylor doesn't appear to be at all affected by the problems.

Later in the dream we end up in a restaurant. The moment we walk in I see my friend, Scott, standing at the counter holding a tray in his hands. Happy to see him, I wrap my arm around him and tell him I am happy to see him, but also sorry that I hadn't read his Christmas letter yet, because so many things have been going on in my life and I haven't gotten around to reading it yet.

(In my waking life, until this morning, the letter sat unread on my counter.)

I settle the kids at a table and walk back to the counter, passing Scott's table where he is deeply engaged in conversation with his dad. I say something to him, but it was apparent he doesn't want to be interrupted. Not wanting to disturb his conversation, I continue on.

(In reality, Scott's dad died this past September.)

I can't help but wonder, that while I was dreaming of Lorraine and Dolores, and of Scott and his father, they too were dreaming of their departed loved ones who, in spirit form, were visiting them in their dreams.

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Weird Weeks

Crazy busy. I know. You're crazy busy too. But I've been away from the Internet (not always my choice) numerous times over the past few weeks, and I have neglected my writing while I attend to more mundane tasks like paying bills I can't afford to pay.

Most of the time I'm busy, it's because I'm with grandchildren. A lot of the time I've been busy has been because I've been without the Internet (scowl, shriek, scream). And the rest of the time I've been dealing with problems, one of which was – you guessed it – the Internet.

So today I have no dreams to share with you (yet), but I would like to leave you with a comment made by renowned psychic, Edgar Cayce, "Dreams are today's answers to tomorrow's questions."

Have you read Paranormal Minds lately?

The Meaning of the Internal Dent

Sometimes dreamers experience a dream that has such an obvious message, the dreamer doesn't need to look beyond the surface. Other times, the message is so mysterious, it requires investigation.

The dream I'm about to relate was at first scary, but when I analyzed the dream, I realized that the dream was trying to soothe my soul and perhaps relate a message to somebody I dearly love.

A couple of Marines showed up at my door. When I opened the door and saw them standing there, my first thought was that they were going to tell me that my son had died.

"Your son has experienced an internal dent," the Marines told me.

I almost couldn't speak. "He was in an accident?" I prayed he was OK.

"No, he just experienced an internal dent."

When I awoke from the dream, I tried to understand the meaning behind "internal dent," and then it occurred to me that my son was hurting for some reason, but that he would survive, because dents can be smoothed out. The damage can be fixed.

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When You Wake Up Crying From a Haunting Dream

Keeley in the early 1970s

Sometimes a dream will stir up so much emotion that when you awaken, the dream is still so fresh in your mind, and your reaction so strong, the dream extends into the day and occasionally lasts even longer. Such was the case with the following dream:

I was in the apartment of a friend when I noticed a praying mantis trying to get into the apartment. I slammed the door in an attempt to prevent the praying mantis from coming inside. I succeeded in closing the door, but the relief was only temporary, because the bottom corner of the door was missing and it was large enough for the praying mantis to slip through.

The praying mantis reached through the bottom of the door, and I was afraid that if I didn't act quickly, it would come inside. Without bug spray, the only way I knew to get rid of bugs without squishing them was by using any aerosol spray can I could find. I really didn't want to kill the praying mantis, because it wasn't a typical bug, like a spider or a wasp – I just wanted it out of my friend's apartment.

With the can of hairspray I found, I kept spraying and spraying and spraying, but instead of retreating, the bug kept coming. Finally, after I had used probably the whole can of spray, the bug stopped reaching inside the opening in the door.

With some trepidation, I cautiously opened the door, and there, standing outside the door, was my three-year-old daughter, completely drenched in spray.

Convulsive sobs erupted from me as I grabbed on to her. The sobbing was so convulsive, it woke me up. Hours later, the memory of that dream consumed me. I would never hurt my daughter and yet, in my dream, it appeared as if I was trying to get rid of her. I berated myself for days and often cried when I relieved the nightmare. I felt that I was the worst mother ever, and I couldn't believe that I was trying to shut her out, even if it was only a dream.

In reflection, I think that my daughter – as  a praying mantis – represented a pest. Keeley's sleep habits were completely different from mine. She stayed up until 2 a.m. and slept only four hours a night. I needed far more sleep than she did, but I couldn't sleep while she was awake in case something happened to her and her sleep patterns were – quite literally – making me crazy.

Keeley never napped during the day, though I begged her to lie down with me, and she was on hyperdrive all day long. She started talking at 6 a.m. and didn't stop until 2 a.m. My mind was incapable of listening to her every second of the day, and at one time I told her that she had to give me and her voice a break, because the human mind was incapable of listening to one voice talk incessantly for twenty hours a day.

In short, though she was funny and interesting, delightful and cute, she was sometimes a pest. I think my lack of sleep contributed to the horrendous dream that nudged me all day long and contributed to me crying about it for several days. I finally took her to the doctor and told him that he had to give me something to keep me awake or give her something to help her sleep.

He gave Keeley something to help her sleep and I was able finally to get six hours of sleep a night. In retrospect, I realize that I was not trying to shut her out. I was trying to shut her up (at least for a little while each day).

Still, all these years later, I remember how my body sank in despair when I realized I was trying to get rid of my daughter in that dream, even though I realize now that all I really wanted was some sleep.

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Nightmare of a Ten-Year-Old

This nightmare was related to me by my ten-year-old granddaughter, Taylor.

She dreamed that a teenage girl, probably around the age of 13, had crawled around the walls outside her room and along the floors and the walls inside her bedroom. The girl in the nightmare had a face that was shrouded in darkness. Taylor was very frightened by her.

As Taylor recounted the dream to me, I couldn't help but think about the freaky girl with her creepy way of crawling out of the television in the movie, "The Ring."

But I also couldn't help thinking about the television program, Psychic Kids: Children of the Paranormal. Those kids are visited by spirits who frighten them too.

According to Taylor, the girl had scratches all over her face, and she kept telling Taylor, "I'm going to kill you."

As Taylor relates, "She seemed so real, like she was really there. Every time I closed my eyes, she would get closer and closer to me, and she would count down, '3, 2, 1,' but every time, just before she got to one, I would open my eyes again. Then it would start all over."

Taylor went on to tell me, "This happened over and over until my mom came in to sleep with me until I could fall asleep."

Taylor had never before seen the girl in her nightmare.

###

Adults have a hard time with nightmares. How much more do children? While my granddaughter was having this nightmare sometime after midnight in her bedroom last night, I was lying on the couch in the living room. My grandson, Kaden, came down to tell me that Taylor was upstairs in bed crying. By the time I reached the top of the stairs, her mom and dad, after hearing the commotion, came out of their bedroom to comfort Taylor.

In pre-teens, any number of contributing factors could have caused Taylor to have this nightmare. She loves to read scary books and she loves watching scary movies. Even though 10-year-olds like to think they're very grown up, they aren't, and the one thing Taylor wanted and needed at that moment, was her mom. 

My sisters and I weren't allowed into our parents' bed when we were young. If we had a nightmare, we had to deal with it. I would have loved to have known that I could have sought safety and comfort in my parents' bed whenever I had a nightmare. I'm glad Taylor was able finally to get a good night's rest and I hope the girl with the scratched face never visits her again.

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Driving the Right Way in a Dream

I am with my son and his family. We are getting ready to celebrate Christmas. Only a few people have said they were coming, so we fix dinner for only his sisters (my daughters), their families, and my son and his family. Suddenly my nephew and my father walk in and I realize my mother, my sisters, and probably my other nephew are coming as well. We will definitely need a lot more food.

Now people I don't even know are showing up and I know for sure I will have to get more food in order to feed everybody.

Now I'm driving a car. My son is with me. For some reason, the wheel will turn only right. I'm trying to force it left, but the wheel refuses to turn in that direction. I panic as I see the car head toward another vehicle. It smashes into a car that is parked in front of a house.

My son gets out of the car and says he'll ask his father to help us. We get out of the car and walk into a house that clearly does not belong to my ex-husband. But I hear my ex's voice and when we walk in, I expect to see him. The man with my ex-husband's voice, though, does not look at all like my ex and when I look over at my son, while I'm wondering why he has chosen to call this man his father, my son no longer looks like my son either. Both father and son decide to help me and treat me as if I'm still the son's mother.

Now I'm the passenger sitting in a car and an animal walks toward us. At first it looks kind of like a deer as it slowly makes its way to the window.The driver opens the window slightly to see what the animal wants. The animal wants to heal me. I'm allergic to animals, so I'm wondering how I will react, but I find myself trusting this animal.

The driver lowers the window even more and the animal, which looks more like an eagle or a phoenix now, jumps through the window and sits on my lap. It leans toward me and chews my eyes, but my eyes don't hurt even while it bites my eyes. Even though what the animal/bird is doing seems odd, even in the dream, I somehow feel he/she is helping me by performing this strange ritual. It speaks to me almost intuitively.

The animal reveals my soul to me by pulling things from my past. Though I don't remember mentioning out loud that when I was a child I thought the only person who ever showed me any genuine affection and loved me was my aunt who died when I was ten years old, this animal seems to zero in on my loss and senses my pain. I can tell that this animal, whatever it is, is attempting to heal me.

When the animal leaves, I wonder if I'm not allergic to animals anymore and if a connection between my allergy to animals and the pain of losing my aunt is possible.
_______________________________

I'm going to have to examine the meaning of this dream at a later date. Because I was the one who had it, I'm a little too close to it right now to figure out the meaning. Following Gayle Delaney's dream process, I'm going to have to ask myself what each of these dream symbols means to me and how each of them are connected. If you have any thoughts, I would appreciate hearing them.

_______________________________

You can contact me and send your weird dreams to weirddreams@mail.com

The Penis Nose – The Weirdest of ALL Weird Dreams (So Far)

I wish I were giving out prizes for the weirdest of all weird dreams, because if I did, this one would win the prize.

After over five decades of listening to people tell me their dreams, I can honestly say that THIS dream, far above every single other dream I have EVER heard, is the WEIRDEST with a capital "W".

And while I'm tempted to say, "Here is the short but sweet dream," I will refrain from using that terminology.

Here is the dream as related to me by a woman (italicized text located between parentheses is mine):

I was looking in a mirror and everything looked normal. I looked like me. Nothing was unusual.

But the second I looked down, my nose looked like a penis and it had testicles hanging (probably where the nostrils would be?) from it. I was confused so I looked back in the mirror and everything was normal again, but when I looked down again, I had a penis hanging where my nose should be.

So I looked back in the mirror and I was fine again. This kept going on. Every time I looked in the mirror I was me. Every time I looked down, I had a penis hanging on my face.

End of dream.

My interpretation? Oh, I could say sooooo many things here, but I won't. Since the dreamer herself doesn't know the meaning of this dream, I'm not going to presume that I know either.

So I will leave the possibilities to your imagination and your interpretation.

Contribute YOUR Weird Dreams

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NEEDED: Your Weird Dreams

Please check out the weird dreams posted in the blogs below.

Maybe one of them will jog your memory about a weird dream you might have had.

If you would like to share your weird dreams, please send them to weirddreams@mail.com.

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Nightmare While Awake: A True Paranormal Experience

The year was 1973. The room was dark except for shadowed branches dancing on the walls. I was alone, awaiting that moment of surrender when my body would cave to the demands of sleep. But sleep never came.

My eyes sprung open at the mention of my name. Thereeeeesa, the voice whispered long and slow. Thereeeeesa.

As if the planets had spun out of control, their centrifugal force racing at a speed too fast for my mind to comprehend, I felt myself plastered to the bed. Every time I tried to lift my arms, my legs, and even my head, I remained glued in place. Panic swept over me in a drenching sweat as I tried in desperation to force myself out of my bed.

Though I poured every bit of strength into every imagined move in my efforts to stand up, I felt my energy deplete with each attempted movement. A kind of prickly numbness stabbed every pore in my skin while I listened to the reverberation of my heart thumping in my ears – drowned out only by my name being called again, Thereeeeesa.

Something had to be holding me down, I reasoned, something I couldn't see, a ghost or a spirit maybe. All I could think to do was trick whatever it was that kept calling my name.

Using my strength of will, I tried to force myself into an upright position before this thing, this ghost, this spirit, this voice, became fully aware that I was even thinking about it.

In one swift movement, I swung my left shoulder toward my right. The move was too fast. I crashed to the floor. Leaden legs, cement block appendages wouldn't allow me to crawl, let alone walk. Thereeeeesa, the whisper taunted me.

The phone sat on a table across the room. In terrified panic, I realized I had to reach the phone to call my mother. The hour was late, but my mother would hear the panic in my voice, would recognize my fear. My mother would calm me down.

I placed a hand on the wooden floor in front of me and heard the wet slap as each palm hit the ground. Inch by inch I dragged my way across the room to the phone. I reached up to grab it.

The second my finger touched the receiver, I was back on the bed. Thereeeeesa.

I could see my body glisten in the moonlight, sweat oozing from every pore after my struggle to get to the other side of the room.

If only my mother could hear my psychic cries for help. I had to get to the phone. I had to stop the voice from...from what? A ghost? The spirit of something evil? Who was haunting me?

Maybe I was imagining the voice, but the air felt suffocating. It closed in around me, its heaviness clinging to me like clammy fingers. I had to get out of the straightjacket that held me tight to my bed.

With every ounce of energy I could muster, I flung myself forward and landed, once again, on the floor. Again, I dragged myself across the floor as I listened to the squeak of my hands. Again, I reached for the phone. Again, I grasped it in relief as I pressed the first button.

Instantly I was back on the bed listening to the rapid drumming of my heart. Maybe I could make it to my sister's room. I had to tell her that somebody was in the house. I needed her help.

I could almost see the hands of the clock race in circles as the night passed in segments of time. I must have blacked out occasionally. What else could account for the fact that one second I was on the floor and the next I was on the bed with no memory of having crawled back to the bed?

I tried once more to get across the room. Plop. Onto the floor. Slap. Slap. Slap. I kept getting closer to my sister's room. Dragging. Dragging cement legs behind me. I reached up. Heard my sister breathing. Grabbed the blanket.

Thereeeeesa. I found myself back on my bed.

I remembered an old Indian story I'd heard about how facing my fears head on would make me stronger. With determination, I decided that if I could make it to the end of the hall, to the kitchen, I would no longer be afraid.

Somehow I found the strength to pull myself into an upright position and with rigid legs and a stiff back walked intently toward the kitchen. With wobbly legs, I passed my daughter's room. I watched her sit upright in her bed. Her haunted look surprised me and she spoke to me as if in a trance. Very clearly she told me, "Don't go in there," and then fell backward on the bed.

I would soon see that same image in a movie that hadn't yet come out, The Exorcist.

I was terrified that I would find myself on the bed again if I didn't move fast enough, but I was also terrified of moving forward. It must be a test, I thought. If I stopped now I would never know if I had the courage to face the demon that called my name.

With more determination than ever before, I moved cautiously toward the kitchen. Soon it would be morning. I could see the dawning light filter through the windows.

The hallway stretched out before me. The kitchen suddenly seemed so far away. With trepidation, I moved forward as if in slow motion, each shaky leg wobbling in front of the other.

And as the morning yawned itself awake, the dancing shadows disappeared. I made it! I made it to the kitchen. And now, with slivers of sunlight peaking through the drapes, the kitchen was empty. Nothing was there. The spirit, whoever or whatever it might have been, departed with the night. I went to bed and fell asleep.

During breakfast with my sister and my daughter only hours later, I related from the night before what I thought must have been a horrible nightmare. But just before I finished, I asked my daughter one question: Did you tell me anything about the kitchen last night?

"Yeah," she said as she cocked her head to the side, remembering. "I told you not to go in there."