What are blood dreams about?

So I just woke up, I was going to sleep for the night around 9pm(long day) and it’s 11:30 right now. The earliest part I can remember is me in an incredibly nice house owned by two women I don’t recognize, my cousin was there with me as well. He was just watching TV in one of the rooms and I was in another on my phone. Next thing I see a woman with her hand on my pants like she’s about to suck my dick, moving her mouth around and flexing her tongue. “Hold on I’m stretching” she then sucks my dick until I climax(bare with me ) She then starts talking about how a New Mexican poolboy started working and how he has a “fat bulge” and if they should invite him up. At this point I ask for another blowjob(not sure why) and she gives it to me, but I never got to climax, right in the middle of it, everything flashes black. Next thing you know the woman who was sucking my dick has my cousin bent over a table with his arm behind his back and clearly struggling. The woman had a really massive dick and I immediately ran out of the room. She/he was asking for something, screaming it (I don’t remember right now) and I run into my backyard in real life somehow. I take a long piss on my deck and run back inside for my cousin who I can still hear screaming. At this point I’m still inside of my house. Everything is dark and I’m in the kitchen and I see a disturbed little white blonde girl( also unfamiliar) asking for something in a kind way( don’t remember). I try to walk away out of the kitchen but the girl is holding onto my hand resisting. I see flashes of words appear, as if I’m in a videogame. I can only make out a few words, some appearing in blood and appearing for no more than a second at a time every 5 seconds. I notice one in particular “GO UP”, I then heard my cousin screaming from upstairs “(name) HELP” I run upstairs , I tell it’s coming from my bathroom and I open the door. “(Name) HELP HELP *i open the door* (name) help I’m a sexy tub of black ink” I see the bathtub filled to the brim with some sort of black liquid and the number “66” appear in my vision in blood red as if in a videogame again. I run away with the girl, and the tub of black liquid screaming at me with numbers and words still flashing in my vision. At this point I realize it’s a dream and it’s better to wake the fuck up right now. I manage to wake up and here I am. Literally no idea what it means and a little disturbed. Help if you can interpret

I was in my kitchen. It was like, midnight. The wood door was open, leaving the screen door. There was a creature outside. Mangled, skinny, at least 14 feet tall, it’s left arm was bitten off, and so were three fingers on its right hand. It had open wounds all over its body. And there were tally marks scratched into its skin. As it focused on me, it took one of its claws and carved another tally mark into its skin. It was a rotting, torn apart... thing. It smelled of Death. It smelled like a decaying body, like blood. It was a Wendigo. Why was there a Wendigo in my backyard? It made a sound. A hiss mixed with a raspy growl. Like if you mixed an alligator with a cat with a lion. My chest felt tight, my vision got blurry, and my breathing became labored. Yet, I opened the door and stepped out. The Wendigo seemed excited at the mere sight of me. It just stared at me with those empty sockets, before reaching out with whatever was left of its hand, and stroked my cheek. It was surprisingly gentle. Why was it so gentle? It kept on circling me. Examining me, occasionally reaching out to touch me. For fuck’s sake that sound, and smell. It smelled like Death. So much. After a few minutes of it just examining me, and making that sound, it looked me in my eyes. And smiled, or bared its teeth. I couldn’t tell which. Then it picked me up, slinging me over its shoulder. For such an aggressive action, it was still gentle. As if it was scared I was glass, and that I would break at the slightest touch. It sprinted, faster than I thought possible. It jumped over fences and cars. Until it reached its destination. The woods behind the school. It smelled even worse than the wendigo. Like..bodies. And I quickly found out why. There **were** decaying bodies. **Everywhere**. I recognized one. Alyssa. It **had** to be Alyssa. It’s hard to mistake hair of that color when I have no ginger friends. For fuck’s sake, her body. It was so *damaged*. Covered in blood, some wounds still dripping blood. I think she was still alive, just waiting for Death to come. I walked towards her, but the Wendigo put itself between me and her body. It made that same sound. That hissing/growling rasp of anger. So, me, not wanting to die, backed up. It just kept on examing me, touching me. Its favorite part of me seemed to be my face. Specifically my cheek, and my jaw. It’s been muttering the same words this whole time. But only at this point had I realized what it said, *“ You are like me. I am like you. You are me. I am you.”* Its voice. Its voice was strange. Calming, yet terrifying. Smooth, yet raspy. It sent shivers up my spine. It repeated those words over and over and over again. Then it hugged me. I already had blood on me from all its touches. But now I was drenched. It fucking hugged me. Why? When it pulled away, it looked sad, yet happy. It looked at me like I was a mirror. Or its child. All of a sudden, my chest got tight again. My vision getting blurry again. My breathing getting heavier again. Then I woke up, panting. And with a pinched nerve in my arm. Not only did my arm feel numb, my body felt weird. I felt...**dirty**, used. But I don’t know why. I know one thing though, I never want to sleep again, or whatever the fuck that was. Of course, though, I passed out the next day and had another disturbing dream which I might post on here too

There is a music festival going on in my front yard. I am with my girlfriend and an ex-friend, who we treat as if she was still our friend. We are walking down the street and decide to go into my neighbor's house and spend the night there. There is only one room open, as if it were a motel. There is nothing in there except a large bed and TV placed in a cabinet. The three of us drop off our bags and go back outside to the festival. It is small, but enjoyable. I spot a group of 20-something year olds under a white tent. They are lounging without a care, surrounded by racks of water balloons. My girlfriend tells me to get a water balloon, so I go up to them. I ask and a woman agrees. She takes one off, then pops it into a large fancy bowl and hands it to me saying, "This is called Dragon Fire Bowl." A guy with her warns her, "Are you sure? Even a drop of that could-" Then he cuts off. The liquid is orange like pop. She encourages me to try some. It tastes amazing! I am addicted to it. I go back to my friends and we retire to the little room. I realized all too late that I finished the drink without sharing.

From here on, the dream cuts like scenes in a movie. It is night. Now I am in my real house watching a concert from my window. It is extravagant, with dancers and bright lights. Suddenly the people who gave me the drink appear in the next room. One of them asks, "Are you feeling ok?"

My dream cuts again. I am back in the small room, but no one is in there. I stand in the corner with blurry vision and a sick feeling. I figure I am just drunk, nothing to worry about. I realize it is really late at night. My brother and a couple of his friends bust in the room, loud, and probably drunk themselves. I mumble something about the drink and Nick is concerned I was poisoned. I assure him it was just pop. They leave and I vomit in my corner.

Next scene, I am still in the same room sitting on the bed with my grandfather. He came to fix the TV. He put on my favorite show, *Supernatural*. We tune in right as an angel is murdering a demon. My grandfather mentions how gruesome the show is. I don't think it's too bad. Suddenly my view becomes more entranced with the show until it is all I see. My view is on the dead demon, who is oozing pink blood from his neck. My sight is like a camera, panning back up to the angel's face. I am the angel. (If you care, the song "Academy Award" by Franz Ferdinand starts playing to set the eerie mood). I can tell I am older than I am in real life, maybe late twenties or early thirties. My hair was cut short and I am wearing nice clothing. With the blade in my hand, I ascend up the stairs. The mansion I am now in was under construction. Sheets hung over a grand window on the stair landing, but a bright white light was breaking through.

I make it to the stop of the long stairway. It is dark here and tinted with a blue filter. I enter a room. A grey pitbull is standing before me, guarding a cradle. The dog growls at me and I realize I am a threat. I move forward without fear and the dog whimpers away. I place my hand on the cradle railing and look down at the baby boy, but from my view I never actually saw the child. I raise my hand with the blade. The dog growls again. I snap my fingers and it rushed out of the room. Before I stab, my side vibrates. It is my phone. I check it and see my girlfriend texted me, "I thought we were going to go to therapy today."

I break from my murderous trance, dropping the blade and holding my spinning head. I realize that was my girlfriend's father downstairs I just killed and that is my son in the cradle. My mind is consumed with darkness, I realize how evil I am. My life is over. How could I do that to my girlfriend?! I seriously think all of this is real. I blink as hard as I can and wake up in a cold sweat.

What does all of that mean? I had this dream a while back, but it has stuck with me as clear as day.

I was in my living room, when my dad started talking about some evangelical culty nonsense. I can't remember the entire rant, but here are some parts i can remember, "god is sad" and "when the blood of men is spilled on earth, water will return to mars".

And then the rest of the dream was me moving from one room to another, every time i looked out of the window, a carbon copy of me, but with black eyes, stared at me, hatefully, from the tree line. and then at the end, my mom was asking me to do something when her eyes went black and her voice went layered, like a demon had possessed her.

If it helps, i am a Pagan in real life.

It was a room. Empty. Black, bit with white lines. As if you colored the lineart of the walls white. There were no lights but there was a faint glow, just enough for me to clearly see. There was...something in the corner of the room. Crying, muttering to itself, drawing on the walls with what I thought was a red marker. But as I inched closer, I realized its fingertips were cut off. And it was drawing with its blood. The blood was bright, not like normal blood. It was like, neon red. Very strange.

I don't exactly remember what it was drawing but it was drawing the same symbol over and over again. It was whimpering to itself. My brain automatically went "Help it, it's hurt" So I put a hand on its shoulder. It didn't even jump or get startled. It just stopped everything. It lowered its hand from the wall and slowly turned its head to face me. It had strange features. It was tall, skinny. But it still had like, basic human anatomy. It had a nose, lips, a chest, muscle definition (of whatever muscle it had) It was just a completely black skinny human, but with crazy eyes that were completely white. And they were...scribbly. Like if you took a white pen and angrily scribbled a circle on black paper.

It stared at me for a second, before saying in a raspy, pained voice. " You're like my art in a lot of ways." It moved closer to me. I smiled slightly, " How so?" Its hand curled around my neck, but not choking me, as it leaned into my ear and whispered, " You were created. You have blood. And..." It leaned in with its hands still around my neck, its lips almost brushing against mine, " I can rip you up whenever I wish."

With that last word, it dug its fingers into my neck. Literally. Its fingers went through my neck, piercing the flesh. I choked a little bit. Then like a movie, it cut to a different scene. Back to it drawing on the walls. Then it cut again to it curled into a ball, sobbing, whimpering, muttering. Then I woke up with the horniness of a thousand 13-year-old boys. Which was hella confusing. So like, what the fuck?