Dream dictionary: ana lou dream meanings

…— sitting in the front row of the stalls, gazing at the stage, which, like the entire auditorium, was bathed in funereal gloom. Presently a hollow sounding clock boomed twelve, and, ere the last notes had died away, the orchestra filled with vast formless things that, seating themselves, evidently in their accustomed places, at the signal of their conductor beat their spectral palms frantically together. On to the stage from either wing there then wriggled and writhed in ghastly imitation of worms, shapes which suggested more than I dare to name — and which I shrank from analysing. And whilst they were in the midst of their hateful evolutions, a cloud of arrows suddenly burst upon them, and, on looking round, I saw, to my terror, that boxes, circles, and gallery were filled with huntsmen, who now levelled their bows at me. A thousand burning pains rushed through my body,…

…they died away altogether; and again there was a sudden blank, followed by an excruciating pain, in which I seemed to feel the entire upper part of my head slowly wrenched away from the lower. Youth undoubtedly magnifies all things — joys and sorrows and pains; and in our after-life we do not feel things so acutely as we did in our childhood. The torture of the rack, I am sure, was as nothing compared with the torture I endured in my sleep under those forceps; and then — blessed relief! — The diabolical cause of my suffering flew out, and the vague unearthly hum of voices grew louder and louder, till they finally became recognisable human accents; when, as I had actually done under the anaesthetic, I awoke. But it was all real — cruelly, wickedly real; and it was due, I have no doubt, to the overtired condition…

…body draw me back, and I entered into it, and experienced again the sensation of the sleeper returning to the living world.Then I dreamed I awoke, and lay in bed striving, in vain, to recall my own answer to that question of fire. It had slipped so readily from my lips, and it had slipped with equal readiness from my brain. I could only repeat, again and again, the meaningless question, “Art thou going to the ZONE ARTO? ”The sun was high and hot. I dreamed I rose leisurely, and, led by an invisible agency, made my way to the coffee-room of an adjacent restaurant. Sitting there was a man who, from his appearance, might have been an Italian of doubtful class, possibly one of the anarchists of whom Europe at that moment stood in dread. His companion was a girl, with dark hair and blue eyes, tall and beautifully…