Dream dictionary: phản xạ tiếng anh tự động dream meanings

Most writers and artists live in dreamland. In their hours of wakefulness, Phantasmagoria comes to them; in their hours of sleep they go to Phantasmagoria. Pursued and pursuing, in bed, at work or at play, they are never free from fantasies. In my novels my imagination runs riot, I make no attempt to suppress it. I write of the fantastic the weird, the occult; for at night I move, I breathe, I think in phantom land. So often have I visited this same phantom land that I have made a map of it, naming its isles, seas, mountains, lakes, forests, rivers, and plains. With many of the smaller landmarks, too, I am familiar, and I know what each turn and twist of certain roads have in store for me. Everything is portrayed to me so vividly that I believe my spiritual body, separating itself from my material body,…

Some time ago I dreamed I left my body, and, after travelling at a great rate through the still night air, arrived at the sphere I designate phantomania. The spot where I settled down was a lonely railway cutting, and I at once remarked on the loud moaning and sighing of the wind through the telegraph wires, and the curious jar, jar, jar of the iron railroad; and the metals which grew less and less like ordinary metals the longer I looked at them, suddenly became imbued with life, and, rising on end, rushed blindly hither and thither and then lay down again. Presently I heard whistle of an approaching train. Nearer, nearer, and nearer it came, and as it whizzed past me all the passengers put their heads out of the windows simultaneously, and burst into peal upon peal of mad, hilarious laughter. There was then a…

Huntsmen not infrequently figure in my dreams. On July 1st, 1909, I dreamed I was standing on the veranda of a house, overlooking a neatly kept lawn and a broad white carriage drive, beyond which was a spinney. It was a beautiful evening, and every object stood out with startling perspicuity in the powerful moonlight. Whilst I was gazing admiringly at the transcendental loveliness of the landscape, I felt a soft hand laid caressingly on my arm, and, on looking round, saw a lady clad in the costume of the middle ages. As she often figures in my dreams, I was in no degree astonished at her appearance. ”How romantic we are!” she said, with a smile; “I was quite under the impression that lingering so long in a great city had spoilt you for the pleasures of the country. With me it is too much country, I…

I dreamed one night I left my material body, which I saw lying stretched before me on the bed, and that after patting it affectionately on the head; I mounted the window-sill and dived head first into the blackness of the night. Down, down, down I went, the cold air whistling and humming about my ears till I thought the drums would burst.Down, down, eternally down, till all became hushed and silent as the grave, and I perceived to my amazement that the earth was fast disappearing in the distance, and that I was rapidly approaching one of the other planets. Dropping gently, I alighted on a tiny hillock, and discovered I was on an islet that lay in the midst of a sparkling, amethyst ocean. All around me were flowers; pink and white roses, pansies, forget-me-nots, carnations, and many others known only in Dreamland. A breeze, laden…

I dream I am in the entrance hall of a huge castle. The walls, floor, and ceiling are all of stone. There is no one about, and throughout the vast building reigns an omnipotent hush. Confronting me is a broad spiral staircase, which I proceed to ascend. Up, up, up I go, and I am beginning to despair of ever arriving at the summit, when from far below comes the faint sound of footsteps. I pause to listen, and my blood turns to ice. There is something in those footsteps that suggests the grotesque and sinister. Panic-stricken, I assay to run, and my feet seem weighted with iron. The footsteps grow more and more audible. They are no longer walking but bounding — bounding prodigiously, three stairs at a time. Wild with terror, I struggle feebly on; the footsteps draw nearer and nearer — three stairs — two…

One night, as far back as 1894, 1 dreamed I was in a desert in Phantomnia, and that bounding towards me from a distance, came a white kangaroo decorated with large, brown spots that looked as if they had been recently painted, and which imparted to it a wooden appearance. It came right up to me, and eyeing me in the friendliest manner possible, said, “Have you seen my mother?” “No!” I replied, “I have not seen anyone here for the last two years, because it is fully that time since I visited these parts. What is she like?” The kangaroo was greatly perplexed. “Why,” he said, “To tell you the truth I haven’t the slightest idea. I thought, perhaps, you might know; but, of course; since you have been absent for so long, it is very obvious you are the last person I should have asked. Good-bye.”…