Dream dictionary: bare feet dream meanings

…young woman), came Martha — Martha wearing one of those short skirts so popular with the depraved aristocracy, and her feet — bare!””Only her feet?” I exclaimed. ” Was that all?””All! ‘‘My companion sighed reproachfully —”all! And was not that enough, and more than enough? Bare feet! Oh, how indecent! But I can assure you, much though the devil tempted me, I did not look twice at them. I kept my eyes glued to my cup. And her mother — her mother! Oh, how shocked she was!’ Martha!’ she screamed, clutching hold of me for support, ‘Martha! Are you bereft of your senses? Whatever has come over you? And before Mr. Simpson, of all people!What mortification!’ ‘Well, ma, neither of you need talk!’ Martha retorted, her face one broad, shameless grin. ‘Neither need pa, for he is dealing out the groceries in just the same plight. Oh, what a day…

…borne at a terrific speed through every description of varied scenery, in a country that was entirely new to me. I saw bare mountains rising to a prodigious height; wide plains where never a blade of grass grew; great sweeps of prairie alive with every kind of vegetable life; slow rivers, narrow rapid streams, and cataracts of hellish fury; forests of pines, moaning as in a hurricane; trees with strange faces like living things; woods full of flowers and peopled by maidens of exquisite beauty; meadows bathed in sunlight; and lofty cities built of coloured marble.And I was borne past all these and set down at the entrance to a sombre city, whose black and silent streets re-echoed to my footsteps. Cold with fear, — for every building I saw was black, and destitute of any sign of life, whilst overhead the blue sky had turned to an intense grey…

…last half -hour. I came here to be alone — utterly alone — save for him!” and here she gave a kind of convulsive sob and stretched her hands appealingly before her. The woman interested me, and I felt that there was much in her that would furnish me with copy — copy for some article on real humanity, on the flotsam and jetsam of womanhood.And so, instead of obeying her injunctions to go, I stayed.Tell me,” I said persuasively, your history. You can confide in me; I am old — old enough to be your ” — then I thought of my bare thirty-seven summers, and blushed — ” well, old enough to be your uncle. May I sit down? “The seats,” she murmured, are free to all. I can go!”She rose, and I touched her gently on the arm. Come! I said, “You can trust me. I’m only…