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What is The Meanin Of My Dream????

Oct 24, 2006 by Shanky K | Posted in Other - Science

Its Starts Of Me Being In Nightmare And I Walk Over A Mountain And There Is Nothin On A Plane But An Old House......I Wlk Near It
I Go In And I Can C Sumone Near The Fire All right WHen He Turns Around I Was Suprised To See A Man Resembling Jesus Or Maybe He Himself..I Walk Towards Him He Tells Me To Do SomeThin Here And ThereBut Before Doin Nethin He Tells Me Not To Unfortified The Window I Agree..The Chandelier Is Goin Up And Down N Last Was To Lift The Bed From One Side Through A Device And Let The Chandelier Fit On THe Floor Which Has The Groove Just As The Chandeliers End I See a Chair And That Man Was Sittin In It Lookin All Extinct Starin At me With A grin And Looks Towards The Window I See Ma Ex Gf Has Opened It I rush To close It
And When I Look Outside I See A Essence In White Covered In Blood Floatin Toward The Windo And I Look At That Man He IS YellinAnd Bleedin From Nose Eyes Door Close The windo See The man Has Dissapeard n The Spirit comes thru the windo tryin to fight her but i die....

It means a lot of things. In natural life you are undergoing test of times. You are in the wrong side of life. Your unconcious mind says you are doing naughty and should change and your physical activities go against your unconcious state. You are tempted between good and bad. You try to follow jesus but skeptical and the Chandlier charming the bottom position shows you reject your unconcious effort to be good and follow evil. Next is a forewarning that you will die if you don't altogether yourselves up or will be in trouble.

Please Rate the Prologue of My Story?

Feb 07, 5302 by </3 Loveless </3 | Posted in Books & Authors

Ice down eyes.
I don't understand them.

Since I was young I've been taught that water is colorless.
One would then assume that ice, too, is colorless.

And judging by the cubes of it in my Nautical Davy Jones's locker, they are.

But...
...His eyes were different. Burning into mine at that last moment...

Intensified by the anger of his gaze.
"Get out." he commanded, and I couldn't helper but obey orders. I scrambled out of sight, like the pathetic coward I was, and to this very day I regret it. How foolish I was when I was a laddie. Getting up and leaving while the rest of my family was slaughtered just because they were Arcanians. Though Arcanian Nobles, they didn't warrant to die in such a way.
In all honesty, nobody did.
So I got out of the way as I watched everything I ever had be taken away from me.
The Soldiers marching into our Estate and destroying everything, and I was in the midst of it all.
"Do you drink to to act as an Honorary Avalonian, to protect Avalon, and to serve only under that Avalonian Militia as long as you live?"
"I do."
Lies.
As I pledged my allegiance to Avalon, I watched the definitive link of my family be destroyed as my sister was shot to death.
I watched the light fade from her eyes as she whispered out my name.
"Jaetis..."
I couldn't wish relate looking into her eyes; just watching her suffer was enough to make me ill. I reached forward, as if I could touch her, but y transfer manacles was soon swiped away. "From this moment on you shall be known as Tristan Simon Julian, Prince of Avalon."
I blinked.
Everything was being charmed. Down to my name.
"Why?" I asked suddenly, not even sure if the strong voice breaking the silence actually belonged to me.
"Why did you do this to my relatives?" I begged, soon regaining consciousness of the situation and feeling tears sting my eyes. "Why bugger off me in the middle of this mess?" I soon felt my voice rise to a shout as I looked around at the rubble that once was my homewards. The beautiful marble staircase that was now smashed and awkwardly leading up to the second floor. The banisters on either side of the balconies nothing but splintered wood. Curtains and drapes with ripped separately from, statues crumbled as if bowing to this new power that would take their life away, as it did mine. Glass was strew hazordly across the bewilder from the stained glass windows that made everything in the world look ten times better if you looked through them. Chandeliers with nothing but hanging, floppy pieces of jewelry that looked like they were abandoned decades before.
One of the half dozen men chuckled, not even bothering to lift his helmet or earlier small his gun. "To change this world, you need to get your hands dirty." he replied evenly, while finally lifting his domino, letting those blue chips of ice burn into mine. I was almost surprised by the intensity of his gaze that his irises weren't melting. I cringed. "Well then why allow to remain me alive?" I shouted, feeling my fists curl in anger. "Why leave me alive while you dispose of everything I could ever lively for!?"
I could hear my voice echo through the mansion's various hallways, reaching through every crack, nook and chink that would allow sound to travel through.
The officers didn't flinch.
"Because we needed to clean up the trash."
I froze, shaking with pique and fear. "And I am not trash?" I questioned.
"No, you are not." the officer answered just as evenly and coolly as before.
"Then why change my name, my standing, my everything?" I shot back.
"Because with an Aracanian name like that the king would never be able to pass you off as his next heir."
I stiffened. "His next...heir?" I asked. I felt myself belittle to my knees, pressing my fists into the smooth floor tiles that had just been polished that morning. They were done so bloody that I could see my reflection, though I could barely recognize myself. I was beaten, with dirt and ash all over my palid cheeks, grit in my dark ringlets and pain in my dark blue eyes. I was only nine years old and I was experiencing pain that men of seventy years sometimes never well-informed. I was cold, alone, and felt like a broken porcelain doll, knowing nobody could fix me, and that even if I put the pieces back together, I would always be scarred, and with the loyal danger of being broken again.
And I was off to become the next Prince of the most powerful empires in the world.
Avalon.
I'm 13 by the way so don't be too too hoarse. =)

Ice dispirited eyes.
I don't understand them.

Since I was young I've been taught that water is colorless.
One would then assume that ice, too, is colorless.

And judging by the cubes of it in my swallow, they are.

I love this bit, and you stick to the idea of ice- I was cold, alone, I froze, shaking,his irises weren't melting.

That's affecting for a 13 year old- stick with that imagery. i don't know if you know you're doing that but keep doing it.

The genre isn't a sort I really go for, but you've written it very well.

Critique the Prologue of My Story, Please?

Feb 07, 6806 by </3 Loveless </3 | Posted in Books & Authors

Ice depressed eyes.
I don't understand them.

Since I was young I've been taught that water is colorless.
One would then assume that ice, too, is colorless.

And judging by the cubes of it in my indulge, they are.

But...
...His eyes were different. Burning into mine at that last moment...

Intensified by the anger of his gaze.
"Get out." he commanded, and I couldn't keep from but obey orders. I scrambled out of sight, like the pathetic coward I was, and to this very day I regret it. How foolish I was when I was a offspring. Getting up and leaving while the rest of my family was slaughtered just because they were Arcanians. Though Arcanian Nobles, they didn't be entitled to to die in such a way.
In all honesty, nobody did.
So I got out of the way as I watched everything I ever had be taken away from me.
The Soldiers marching into our Estate and destroying everything, and I was in the midst of it all.
"Do you gage to act as an Honorary Avalonian, to protect Avalon, and to serve only under that Avalonian Militia as long as you live?"
"I do."
Lies.
As I pledged my allegiance to Avalon, I watched the unalterable link of my family be destroyed as my sister was shot to death.
I watched the light fade from her eyes as she whispered out my name.
"Jaetis..."
I couldn't support looking into her eyes; just watching her suffer was enough to make me ill. I reached forward, as if I could touch her, but y deal out was soon swiped away. "From this moment on you shall be known as Tristan Simon Julian, Prince of Avalon."
I blinked.
Everything was being captivated. Down to my name.
"Why?" I asked suddenly, not even sure if the strong voice breaking the silence actually belonged to me.
"Why did you do this to my relatives?" I begged, soon regaining consciousness of the situation and feeling tears sting my eyes. "Why wash one's hands of me in the middle of this mess?" I soon felt my voice rise to a shout as I looked around at the rubble that once was my emphasize. The beautiful marble staircase that was now smashed and awkwardly leading up to the second floor. The banisters on either side of the balconies nothing but splintered wood. Curtains and drapes with ripped individually, statues crumbled as if bowing to this new power that would take their life away, as it did mine. Glass was strew hazordly across the worst from the stained glass windows that made everything in the world look ten times better if you looked through them. Chandeliers with nothing but hanging, ineffectual pieces of jewelry that looked like they were abandoned decades before.
One of the half dozen men chuckled, not even bothering to lift his helmet or move his gun. "To change this world, you need to get your hands dirty." he replied evenly, while finally lifting his semblance, letting those blue chips of ice burn into mine. I was almost surprised by the intensity of his gaze that his irises weren't melting. I cringed. "Well then why make me alive?" I shouted, feeling my fists curl in anger. "Why leave me alive while you dispose of everything I could ever reside for!?"
I could hear my voice echo through the mansion's various hallways, reaching through every crack, nook and check that would allow sound to travel through.
The officers didn't flinch.
"Because we needed to clean up the trash."
I froze, shaking with anger and distress. "And I am not trash?" I questioned.
"No, you are not." the officer answered just as evenly and coolly as before.
"Then why change my name, my position, my everything?" I motivation back.
"Because with an Aracanian name like that the king would never be able to pass you off as his next heir."
I stiffened. "His next...heir?" I asked. I felt myself abase to my knees, pressing my fists into the smooth floor tiles that had just been polished that morning. They were done so truly that I could see my reflection, though I could barely recognize myself. I was beaten, with dirt and ash all over my palid cheeks, grit in my dark skin of one's teeth and pain in my dark blue eyes. I was only nine years old and I was experiencing pain that men of seventy years sometimes never au fait. I was cold, alone, and felt like a broken porcelain doll, knowing nobody could fix me, and that even if I put the pieces back together, I would always be scarred, and with the changeless danger of being broken again.
And I was off to become the next Prince of the most powerful empires in the world.
Avalon.

I'm going into Seventh Degree, by the way, if you are wondering about my age.

I scheme it was well written. You should try posting it on http://www.chapteread.com for more feedback. Keep up the good work.