What are castration dreams about?

A while back I had a really strange dream. I was out walking on the railroad tracks in the middle of the summer and it was horribly hot. There were a lot of abandoned houses off to the side of the railroad track. A lot of abandoned buildings. And I walked past this weird white building that is kind of small and looks a little bit Like one of those rest stops, welcome centers you see at state lines but it was really run down looking. The ceiling was caving in and the windows were smashed in as well. I heard these strange noises from the building like someone crying but also making these weird pained noises. And shrieking as well.

Out of concern I followed them. I just walked in. Much like the exterior the interior of the building was all white but it looked like the majority of the walls had been removed. There was an area that was all white tile and there was some guy with very long hair almost down to his waist chained to it by his wrists. He wasn't wearing anything and there was blood smeared all over his lower stomach and abdomen and I realized that someone had castrated the poor guy. He also looked emaciated - I could have counted every rib. So I managed to somehow unchain him from the wall but his wrists were still in manacles. I remember having a feeling really bad for the poor fucker. He seemed like he had been driven completely insane and had no idea what was going on around him. I remember trying to wipe him off and stop the bleeding after I pulled him down but he made a weird snarling noise and bit a chunk out of my shoulder. It was then I noticed that he had two fangs that were thin and needle-like in place of canines and he said, "Don't you *dare* pity me, little boy!" Then I woke up.

This is the first time since I was a child where I remember being truly terrified from a dream. The dream started with me in a dim hotel room on the upper level in a city watching the news. On the news a cult of pedos called the white orchard is trying to take over society and they are controlling those Boston Dynamic dogs except they have guns, and they are mowing down hundreds of people at a train station. I can see the chaos unfolding in the city outside my window from my hotel. Then suddenly there's banging on my door as they try to break down my door. I'm terrified as I just sit in the room waiting for them to get me. I have nothing to defend myself. I don't know how I get out of this scenario but the next part I remember is the next day where I am trying to convince my dad that this really happened. He won't believe me and I can't find anything about it online to prove that it happened. It's bizarre to me as the previous day it felt like the events were unfolding everywhere yet there's no mention of it anywhere today. That night I'm at my home instead of the hotel. I lie in bed watching out the window for hours terrified knowing that they'll be coming again. I see headlights as a car pulls into the driveway. I panic and try to call my brother to warn him since he's on the first floor of the house. I don't want to yell and let them know I'm awake. After that I can't make up my mind to charge and attack them or wait for them to come for me and take them by surprise. I stand in the dark in my room behind the door and lie in wait for them. All I have to defend myself is a tiny Orioles baseball bat that you buy at the gift shop at the stadium. As they approach, I jump out to attack them, but I'm outmatched three to one and they easily repel my attack. The three figures are kids I was friendly with in high school. One of them points a handgun at me but doesn't execute me. They take me away and I end up in a large dark concrete room with the rest of the cult. They hand me a knife and tell me to castrate myself in order to live. I slit my wrists and try to kill myself to try to escape whatever they are going to do to me. As much as I cut myself and bleed, I won't die, and I feel no pain. They proceed to torture me and smash my dick with a sledgehammer and then I woke up. I don't know what to make of this dream it just seems so bizarre and weird and yet it was also so vivid and terrifying.

Talked about this with a few people already but last night I had a dream where I was trapped in OJ Simpson’s mansion and a brief vision of a history channel style documentary explained that he killed his ex-wife was because she had commissioned and placed a series of massive paintings depicting OJ being castrated in a ritualistic manner. As I feared my life approaching these wall-sides paintings I realized just how insanely detailed and ornate they were, the scene depicting a massive and cultishly dressed OJ surrounded by Nicole and other women (presumably her friends) all preparing tools to castrated his ridiculously oversized genitalia and, as the “documentary” stated, turn him into a Eunuch. Presumably, he committed the famous murders because of the sheer embarrassment and mental anguish these paintings caused.

I have absolutely no idea why the hell this was something I needed to go through but I couldn’t stay quiet about it. Only reason I can give as to why the subject matter of this mindfuck was OJ is because a friend and I frequently discuss and rip on the ridiculously absurd history behind the trial and his life following the case, however, we haven’t talked about him in literal weeks.

Help.

First off, I've never had a castration dream. Second, there was nothing traumatic about it. I'd simply misplaced my genitals, in the same way that you'd lose your keys or your wallet. Apparently I'd done this before and when I told my wife, she simply rolled her eyes and sighed as if to say 'Not again.' There was also no question that I'd get them back, as is. My wife said something along the lines of "All the surgeons have been doing nothing but transition surgeries for the last decade, you'll get them back." We were living in a rooming house that was a converted mansion, one of those antebellum mansions broken down into little apartments for struggling artists such as ourselves. Meanwhile, there was a sleazy character from New Jersey who was trying to convince me to pose for Playgirl. "Isn't playgirl out of print?" I asked him. "Well yeah, it's more of a monthly flyer now," he said, looking sheepish, 'but we still have subscribers." I left the rooming house to go into the town where we were living in the dream, which looked like Rochester NY. Residential neighborhood, old sidewalk, bright sunlight. I thought over the whole strange scenario. Why Playgirl? And how am I supposed to pose for it if I don't have genitals?

Yes, I actually dreamt this. I'm not entirely sure if this counts as porn or not. In my dream, I cut my penis and testicles off for no reason at all; I didn't feel any pain either. I kept constantly looking at and touching the scar on my crotch where my penis and testicles used to be, to acknowledge what I have done, and yet I was still pretty chill about, thinking that it's no big deal and that it can be easily fixed. Every person I came across was like "what the hell is wrong with you?!" "why would you do that?!", and I was like "don't worry, I can simply go to the doctors and hopefully they will have a spare lying around". I didn't even take care of my severed penis and testicles, I kept playing around with them and they eventually got ruined and lost. As the dream went on, I became less chill and start to worry and realize how serious this is and that the hospital wouldn't do jack shit to fix this. Then I woke up and was relieved that it was all a dream.