I have a reoccurring dream where I am trying to drive my car from the passenger or backseat. I can never make it into the drivers seat and ultimately I lose control of the car and end up driving over the edge of a cliff or into a large body of water.

Naked, running around in a fenced in backyard, a towel chasing me trying to cover my nakedness.
It’s kinda terrifying being chased. I just wanna be freeeeee!

Not sure if it counts as a nightmare, but I used to have this weird dream where everybody I know hated me. And not like how in real life when you don’t like someone but you act polite to them, in my dream, the people let me know they hated me. Going as far as to act cruel and mean. However for some reason there would always be one person in this dream who didn’t hate me. Tommy Chong. Always before this dream would end, I’d be in a room somewhere or an apartment and I’d be getting high with Tommy Chong and he’d go on about he doesn’t know why everybody hates me but that I shouldn’t let it bother me.

I get reoccuring dreams every few months or so where I’m back in college because it turns out I never completed my degree and am one class shy of graduating. So I return to school only to take the hardest fucking class in the world, forget to study, and show up to the final knowing nothing. I vividly remember the feelings of helplessness and anxiety as I sit down to take the exam. Then I wake up, have to think for a minute and once I regain consciousness breathe a huge sigh of relief because it was just a dream.

Image Credit: Daily Mirror

Being in a very ill-equipped public bathroom at a school. It might be dark, the stall doors might be way too short, no toilet paper, filthy toilets and walls. Just the level of discomfort i feel in my dream at having to go so bad and pretty much being forced to use such a restroom. They’re weird, terrifying dreams

I’m in a white room, laying on this red couch. It creaks whenever I move positions like only an old, leather couch could. My head is in the lap of some girl. She’s stroking my head, the way that can calm me down from anything. Every so often she’ll whisper that she’s okay, she’s happy, she’s safe, that she still loves me despite what happened.
It’s my abusive ex’s voice. She died of a cocaine overdose.
I wake up every time panicked and turn to see her. She’s never there.