This is a real dream diary compilation I've been working on for years. I have committed to write them down exactly as I dreamed them. No add-ons, no creativity, no inventions.
I have really long, vivid and complete dreams. Not the psychedelic kind...
I dreamed I was in the house (the recurrent house in my dreams where I grew up).
The house was infiltrated by enemies or demons (not sure, this part was blurry) and one of the pets killed. However, as we're removing the pet's body (it's something white) we see 3 babies. The babies are taken care of and they grow into something like red pandas, although when they reach full adulthood they're more feline.
It's deemed that the house is no longer safe and can't protect me from whatever is trying to kill me anymore, so I decide to leave it. As I'm walking out, these 3 red panda like cats follow me on the roofs. I tell them to find a home as I'm homeless myself at the moment. (I'm around 15 yo)
(fast forward/ dream shift/ I don't remember what happened here)
A family has taken me in, consisting of a blonde father, a pretty pale mother and a blonde daughter of approx 13 yo. I love them as if they were my own family.
We are on a trip and we're visiting tourist areas in their van. The father then takes us to a cemetery consisting of only mausoleums. The place looks like a neighborhood in the suburbs with stone enormous mausoleums instead of houses and it's located in the country.
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(Like this but imagine them the size of small houses, with windows and a neighborhood full of them.)
The mausoleums are tall, some even having 2nd floors, and have big wooden doors and windows. There had been like some sort of war long time ago and the mausoleum started as a tribute to those who fought in the war.
The father takes us to his own family's mausoleum. It looks like a museum inside. The place is full of caskets with transparent tops, either glass or plastic. The bodies inside had been preserved almost perfectly and look like asleep. The walls are full of pictures, newspaper cuts, paintings, medals and the sort. The father guides us to a casket in the corner, saying that was the first one ever placed in there and that it used to be in the middle, but now had been moved to the corner by the window to accommodate more family members. He then mentions that's why a 2nd floor was in the building. Quite indeed, the place is full of caskets, placed on pedestals, and there's barely space left to walk between them.
In this particular casket lies a man identical to the father. He's dressed in old fashioned military clothes, his hands resting on his chest holding a military hat. He explains to the girl that the man was her great-grandfather, and that he had been a hero in the war. He proceeds to tell his daughter the story, but I don't hear much of it.
I'm feeling more and more creeped out to see a dead man so strikingly similar to the father, whom I had come to love as a father. I walk away and observe the bodies inside the other caskets. There are signs here and there that the preservation method wasn't perfect at all in the end. I see a boy with a lopsided mouth, a woman with her empty eyes half open, a man with a sickly tinge on his skin. The place reeked of the old and dead, of dust and the forgotten.
