I remember this dream pretty clearly even though it's already night. I'm a bit hesitant to write it, but I did say I'd write whatever I dreamt of-- no censorship.
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I had an argument with my father. I wanted something but he stopped me from getting it (winning it?). I was so angry. So. Damn. Angry. Moreso than anytime I've ever been before. I had something in my hand-- a bottle of sorts. And... I threw it at him. Gosh. What even made me DO that, I don't know. It hit his head, duh. And he turned to look at me.
And in his face, I can't imagine it. It was his face. But... different. And I felt so ashamed that I gave in to my little bout of anger. I immediately went to him and apologized profusely, but he just turned around after staring at me and walked away.
I sat down on the ground (coincidentally is was raining too) and prostrated, but to no avail.
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The funny thing is that normally I KNOW when I'm dreaming, and I can forcefully wake myself up. But this time, I couldn't. It wasn't until my alarm went ringing for some time did I finally wake up. Hmm.
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