Fawn in the woods.

It is snowing and I'm walking through the woods. It's light all around, and I'm walking bear-foot but I can't feel anything. The leaves are a shock of red and gold, but the Evergreens stay forever green. I come to an opening in the woods, a small field where there are a group of little fawns. I slowly approach the fawns but they are not afraid of me. They surround me and nudge me with their noses. I sit with them, stoking them.

Stigmata.

It is grey and cold. I am standing on a train track, unable to movie. My feet and hands are bleeding.

Then warmth illuminates down on me through a sheer light. Michael is the light's name. The light feels old.

"Everything will be okay." The light told me.

The puppy in the street

I dreamt I was walking down cobbled streets with only glow from street lights leading my way. I wasn't sure where I was going or what I was doing, but then I heard a small whimper. In the distant I could see a small lump shivering under a lamp post. I walked apprehensively towards the thing until I noticed it was a injured puppy. I took off my cardigan and wrapped the animal in it. I began to carry the dog with me, but I could feel it getting heavier and heavier until I wasn't certain I'd be able to carry it anymore.

Cats.

I dreamt I was wondering through the darkness of York's cobbled streets. It was cold, misty and dark. I eventually came to a back alley that looked familiar; it was my own. I crept to the back gate and let myself into the yard. There were at least 50 cats, of all colours and species, slinking around amongst a mound of rubbish. Ruth my housemate was there.
"Maybe," she said "Maybe, we could take care of them all. I'm sure Ron wouldn't mind."
I agreed. I love cats. I began to help her carry them into our house. I was already thinking about the mound of cat litter and cat food we'd need to get.

Time Travel.

I dreamt I was a time traveler. I had decided to visit my primary school back in 1995. I saw my old friends out in the yard playing with skipping ropes in their summer blue dresses. I couldn't see myself yet. I wondered into the school, into the infants hall. My shoes squeak and slipped on the polished oak floor. I walked back into the corridor where children ran up and down, to the toilets, laughing and pushing each other. I followed the corridor back out into the yard where I saw myself standing and crying with a boy. I looked a little closer. That boy, with his white blonde hair, his tallness and his frustrating determination was my brother. This memory I was watching was one of many; he was taking his place as my older brother and comforting me. I watched my younger self point out to a child (who must have pushed me or taunted me) and my brother glare and frown.
I stood back watching despairingly at this situation realising that I couldn't change anything that would happen in the future.
I woke up crying.

Cowboy.

I was at the Conservative club near by where I grew up. There was a DJ but no one else was around. After a while of waiting a man walked through the door. He was wearing an expensive suit and his hair was neatly slicked back. He was lean, tanned and handsome. It dawned on me that this guy was Patrick Bateman. I needed to get out, so I climbed out of a window.
I was facing a beautiful, white American suburban house with a white picket fence. This house was grand, perfect and sinister. I walked into the empty house to look around. I knew that was a bad idea. I crept into the living area where to my utter horror (ironically) a dead boy was hanging from the light. I had to get out, escape. I ran for the front door but it was locked. As I struggled with the handle I heard a thud. The rope had snapped. I stood, locked to the spot in terror. Thud. He was after me.
I ran up the stairs. I needed to get to safety. Thud. All the rooms were either locked or empty. Thud. He was getting closer. Finally I broke into one of the rooms. This room was a boy's room, completely decorated in a western themed wallpaper and toys. I ran to the window to get out. Thud. I couldn't open the window. Thud. He's in the room. Thud. A horrible rattling, rasping breathing noise filled the room. Thud. I turned around. The child stood before me white and dead. I was terrified he'd take my soul.

Gathering darkness.

I felt intoxicated. I was stumbling down a hallway. I was conscious of a darkness that was gathering around me and I was afraid of it. I began to run, but it felt like I was running from a storm. As I ran through the hallway I vaguely noticed that the walls were covered in doors and clocks of all sizes. I wanted to get out badly. I became dimly aware that maybe, just maybe this was a dream.
Finally, I broke out of a door at the end of the corridor and out into the open air. Outside it was nearing dawn. I was at a river bend. The water looked like liquid silver. I began running by the river, feeling free.

Baby.

I was wondering through the woods close to where I live. It was a clear spring day, crisp and fresh. I came to the skeleton of the abandoned cottage, and in the green lying in the moss was a baby. The baby was white like snow, and for one awful moment I thought the baby was dead, but it opened it's eyes and smiled at me. I picked up the baby and carried it with me to the beach.
It was empty and quiet at the beach, I sat with the baby for a while until I was aware that my brother was there. He smiled and told me the baby was a gift. I asked him what I should call it.

Trains.

There was a sheer white sky out and all I was thinking about was snow. My father was ahead of me on the train track we were following.
"Mark said that the trains don't run along here anymore." My father shouted. For some reason it was difficult to hear him. There was a noise like waves crashing against pebbles.
"Where are we going?" I called to my father.
"To see Mark."
I was filled with dread. I hate graveyards. We continued to walk along the track when suddenly a siren began to screech out of speakers. A train is coming and I was screaming out to my father to get off the track. I was running down hill towards a forest thinking about my father. Somehow I knew he was fine.
I walking deep into the woods, bare foot and thinking I must get to university on time.

A record of dreams.

I'm a vivid dreamer. I can have up to three dreams a night. I reckon it's time to keep a record of these dreams.