Nicola Kirk: Author and Collector of Paranormal Stories and Other Strange Encounters

Posts tagged ‘Dreams’

OLD SCHOOL FRIENDS AND KIM BASINGER?

REMEMBERING FRIENDS…

Dreams are curious creatures.  I’ve heard all the usual explanations for dreams: it’s your brain having a sort through of all the experiences you’ve had and so on but what, I ask you, is Kim Basinger doing popping up in my dreams when she is the last person I would be thinking about (no offence, Kim, but it’s been a while).  I’ve always had very vivid dreams, most of which I forget like everyone else, but sometimes I get caught up in a right humdinger (remember the one about Lady Gaga and strange men eating KFC?)  Well this one was kind of in the same bracket but without the extra side orders.

Recently, I was very sad to learn about the passing of my childhood best friend.  We had drifted apart over the years, but you never expect to hear that someone you grew up with has died.  Dreaming about my friend should not have been a shock.  And dreaming about us in a situation that we both had fond memories of (being at school together) seemed like the perfect place to find her.  She was in her school uniform, aged in her early teens, and I passed her in a corridor on my way to a lesson somewhere.  I stopped her and she looked at me with a peaceful expression but she didn’t quite look as if she was really seeing me.  I asked her if she was okay and she said that she was.  I put my hand on her arm and said I had heard that she had died and she laughed, seemingly a bit annoyed, and asked me where I had heard that one.  I told her another school friend had told me and she snorted and said ‘why on earth did she do that?’   My friend looked… different.  I’m not sure what it was about her, whether it was because I was remembering her as her younger self, or I was perhaps having trouble remembering her face and my mind was filling in the missing details (although I can see her as clear as day in my mind while I write this).  It was quite an emotional experience because I knew, of course, deep down, that she was no longer living. Then my grandmother made an appearance too – not sure what she was doing at my old school – but she hardly seemed to notice me and just went about her business.  I moved on to my old form room where some old school friends who I haven’t thought about in a long time were sitting around chatting.  One of them was sporting a black eye.  Well, he had been a particularly irritating child at school, so maybe that was a subconscious wish on my part.

WE NEED A BIGGER TUB…

We sat around watching some kind of slide show about clocks – what else? – when I noticed a stack of old looking documents beside me and I thought, ‘ they must be from the asylum!’  Of course.  Where else would a stack of old looking documents have come from?  It’s my dream, and I say they came from an asylum.  I picked up an old white envelop that was busy turning a nice shade of brown and noticed it was dated long ago.  It appeared to be an envelop full of photographs.  I pulled one out to look at it and it was a photo of an inmate taking a bath whilst at an asylum.  The inmate was wrapped in some kind of sheeting and looked for all the world to be… wait, was that Kim Basinger?  I frowned at the photo wondering what on earth she was doing there and then I became aware that there was a figure standing just behind me.  It was ethereal and glowing and looked a little bit curious as to why I was holding an old sepia photo of her having a bath in asylum settings.  The ghost of Ms Basinger looked at me for a moment and, feeling that I was holding something that was very much her property, I gave her the envelope of photos with an muttered apology.  She smiled and I knew that if I looked away for a moment then she would be gone.  And I was right.  I turned to look at my schoolmate with his black eye and then when I turned back she had, indeed, gone.  I felt as if I had experienced something truly incredible.  Although now I am somewhat concerned that something has happened to Kim, so I’m just going to do a quick Google to make sure she’s okay…

I wonder what it is that makes us dream about seemingly random people.  And I wonder if it means anything.  It was nice to see my friend one last time though.

Nicola

©Nicola Kirk 2016 and www.nicolakirk.wordpress.com

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Dreaming of Reality – Or Is It Something Darker?

choice, choices, colours, dreams, funnyNo, No, NO!  Bad Advice, BAD ADVICE!!

Dreams are funny things.  They can be so vivid you wake up wondering if it had been a dream at all.  I dreamed once that I’d received a letter in the post and then, when I woke up, spent the best part of the morning looking for the damned thing.

Never did find it.  Odd that.

Wake Up, Twitter – If I’m Up, So Are You!

Early one morning whilst perusing Twitter (babies don’t care what time they get you up, but when they do, you’d better make sure you have something interesting to keep you awake while they have their bottle) I came across one post that said, ‘everything you dream about is something you’ve seen or done in real life’.

Oh, man, I hope not.

I Can Flyyyyy!!!

I remember many of my dreams, which are generally really nice – dreams of flying or discovering lost tombs (yes, I’ve had one or two of those dreams – Lara Croft has nothing on me).   But sometimes I suffer from oddly disturbing dreams.  Like the one where I went into my little boy’s room to check on him one night.  He was fast asleep in his cot but as I turned to leave I saw an 8-year-old version of him standing next to me in the gloom.  The older version of my son grinned up at me and then abruptly disappeared into thin air.  I’m pretty sure I’ve never seen an 8-year-old version of my son in real life, so why would I dream of him now?  When I woke up from that dream I felt absolutely terrified for some reason and had the worst case of goosepimples and shivers I can ever recall having.  It was one of those moments I thought only existed in bad sitcoms where the sleeper sits bolt upright in bed. My flesh literally crawled.

Who’s Reaching Out To Hold Your Hand At Night?

And only a couple of weeks back, I woke up because I was certain I could feel someone holding my hands, which were laying on top of the covers.  The hands holding mine were freezing cold – I could feel them.   I remember a little voice in my head screeching ‘they’re holding your hands!  They’re holding your hands!‘  Again, I woke up feeling terrified and freezing cold with goosepimples running over my skin like a million icy ants.

What makes us dream these things?  If it’s our brains sorting out the things its experienced during the course of the day, why would I dream about a futuristic version of my son or that someone with horribly cold hands was  holding mine while I slept?

bad-dreams-funny-cat

And don’t get me started on the dreams I’ve had about Gene Hackman trying to murder me (I mean, really, why?) or someone shooting me in the back while I walked home from a school I’ve never attended…

Therapy, anyone?

Have you ever had strange dreams that have left you feeling spooked or wondering ‘where on earth did that come from?!’

Nicola
weirdworld@hotmail.co.uk
©Nicola Kirk and www.nicolakirk.wordpress.com 2013
Follow Me On Twitter: @Weirdworld2013

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