So the first night's dream, I don't remember much but I have a very vivid image of a dude hacking off another dude's arm with a machete and then turning to hack off half of another dude's head. I woke up immediately thinking WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK!?
The next night's was strange and emotional. Not sure who I was with but we were up a mountain and something went down where several died and several were seriously injured. Me and the couple people that made it headed down the mountain for help. The trip down was part of the adventure yet pretty uneventful, just a struggle. We found all our parents chillin' at some sort of barbecue. We're frantic, trying to explain the situation, and we get nothing but looks of inconvenience and disgust. We were balling our eyes out trying to explain the severity of the accident and nobody seemed to care. The parents of the deceased, as well. After struggling to get the point across, we packed up supplies for the trek back up the mountain. We grabbed enough to start up a settlement and decided to live out the rest of our days with our lost friends on top of the mountain.
I woke up swamped in grief and distress with a feeling of inadequacy. Like we failed our friends and nobody out there gives a shit about me. It was a struggle to gain composure. The only saving grace was that I was having these thoughts from the comfort of my home, knowing it was all a dream.
I hate that shit.