Dream dictionary: going to big city dream meanings

…‘ and you may bet your whiskers they are good, too!’ he added, smacking his lips.’ Better than they give you at home, eh? ‘”Yes, sir,” I replied. We can’t afford much in the way of meat, one joint has to last us a week; and as for the entrees — well, we generally manage to do without them.”Just so!’ the gentleman smiled, ‘ and that is why I am going to give you a treat to-night. In spite of the fact that I’m a pretty well-to-do banker — regular City man, don’t you know — I’m in my heart of hearts a bit of a Socialist : don’t believe in class distinction and all that sort of thing, like to see the poor man enjoying himself as well as the rich. Why the deuce shouldn’t he? The same God made them both. I am just letting you know my…

…there were legions — to swarthy Dagos and bullet -headed negroes, vied with one another in their mad efforts to escape the falling bricks and burning timber. In trying to elude one death men only courted another, and the dreamer saw scores of human beings who leaped from burning buildings, only to be dashed to pieces on the cruel stone pavements. Nor was the heroic element wanting, for many men and women perished in their efforts to rescue the infirm and sick, and to help those to escape, who were either too old or too young to help themselves. For some time, the dreamer was merely a spectator, but very suddenly, and by some inconceivable impulse, she became imbued with personal interest in what was going on, and, labouring under the impression that her home and family were in danger, fought her way to get to them. The city was…

…he stopped, and, with the perspiration trickling down his face, pointed to a bloody pile on the floor. ‘There they are,’ he said ‘ thirty-two of them! The toughest to draw imaginable. Now I shall stick them in again and fill them!’ He did so, and the torture was so great that over and over again I swooned. For twenty hours he whirled away first at one root and then at another, piercing the gums and pricking the nerves; and the more I implored him to stop the more he hurt me. At last he finished, the whirling instrument was laid aside, and with the tip of my bleeding tongue I felt, in each tooth, a hole big enough to hold an egg. “Do you see this? ‘ he said, holding up a bottle. Its Scotch whiskey, and I’m going to fill your teeth with it. You will then know…