What are foot dreams about?

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

For some context, I’m a teenage female, and this nightmare or night terror has happened since I was 4 up until two years ago when I saw the man in the nightmare, after I had the nightmare that night in my bffs house in Illinois. I haven’t had the nightmare since then, but I had it last night. I felt like throwing up after I had woke up, showered and got dressed.

I had my usual nightmare from a long time ago, and it was all normal. I was in a old lime green Cadillac with a oakwood dashboard, in the back left seat, with people who aren’t my family but are in my dream. A little boy sat next to me, he had pale skin, dark hair but the lightest blue in his eyes, and a sweater to match the hue of his eyes. The driver in front of me, was a man with broad shoulders, and a white sweater covering them. I couldn’t see anymore of his features from my seat but the woman in the top right was gorgeous. She sat with good Posture, her pink dress hugging her curves, as long with her sweater on top. As the car drove up the dirt road on a hill, I see the man in black (his face is covered but I saw his face the last time I had this nightmare at my bffs house in Illinois but then saw him at the cafe the day after, but with a little girl with him.) then it crashes.

But here’s where things get off.

I get out of the car crash like normal, the people that were in the car are no where to be seen, like normal. Then I turn to my right, to see the man in all black. But when I see the man, instead of starting to turning to my left and running downhill, I stand still. I stand still but firm in the ground. I, still staring at where his face would be, see him walk towards me. He walks with a slow, steady pace. Each foot touching the dirt, making a print. Soon, he is standing in front of me, with two foot of space between us. I can now see his face from underneath his hood he wore, and the wind blew. The wind had never blown in the nightmare before, but the wind hit his face, and he had no reaction.

He then focuses on my eyes, and starts to speak. His face emotionless but the words being said as a warning, I can’t remember what he said yet, but I’ll try and remember it.

If anyone could have the slightest idea to what some of this means, please say anything. Even if you think it may not help, I’ll take what I can get.

So I have depression rn, and I had a dream that i was on the edge of a building about to end it all. Right when I was about to jump, the Catholic church across the street exploded. The Shockwave threw me back, but I was still on my feet. A helicopter than came, and started loading bullets into me. I felt every bullet hit me in the chest. My guts were clenching like fists. I felt every bit of pain. I was pushed to my knees, and coughing blood. I was bleeding all over the place, but wasn't dying. I got up, and went to my brother and sister for help. They both completely left me to die. I realised that no one cared. I limped around, and tried to find another ledge to try to kill myself on, but nothing was high enough. Nothing. I was still bleeding

I was tied up in a room with multiple other girls, they were shooting holes into our feet over and over. I woke up half an hour ago and I can't stop thinking about this dream, why would my brain traumatize me like this? I was in so much pain and fear.

This was a lucid dream from 2 years ago when I came VERY close to suicide. I’m archiving it here for memories sake. TL/DR at the bottom.

I was having a typical non-lucid dream, and out of nowhere my vision went completely white. A few seconds later I was (now in a lucid dream state) standing in a street in front of a grey brick building. There was a group of people walking in the door, so I followed them in. Inside was a classroom like environment with a large blank screen at the front of the room. It wasn’t spoken, but I just knew these were all people who had taken their own lives.

Everyone sat down at the individual desks filling the room. Everyone looked very sad, most looking down at their feet. Some talked quietly to each other, but I couldn’t understand them. I sat down next to a 20-something girl and looked around the room. After a moment she asked me “So why did you do it?” I responded with “Oh I’m still alive, I’m just able to come here”.

Every person in the room went silent and looked at me with shocked expressions. After getting stared at for a few seconds, I was instantly teleported outside of room and back out into the street where I arrived. This time a giant 7ft tall bald guy was standing in front of the door. He refused to let me back inside, but let everyone else in who approached him.

About this time, a guy walked by me in the street and I asked him “What is this place?” He said something along the lines of “It’s where they (suicides) come to see where their life went wrong, and how their life played out if they stayed”. We chatted for a bit, don’t remember what about. Eventually I asked him why it mattered how we die because eventually we’ll all die anyway. Why does it matter if someone takes their own life?

The man took me back to the open classroom door where I had previously been, and we looked in from the outside. Inside, a young man (20’s) was standing at the front of the room. The screen at the front of the room was showing images of the young guy as a middle aged man. I remember on the screen there were images of him playing with a little girl (presumably his would-have-been daughter), him hugging an older couple (presumably his parents), him smiling and laughing with friends around a table. All the other people in the room sat and watched the screen play in silence. The atmosphere was unbearably depressing.

Eventually me and the guy from the street stepped back and he said something about “So many experiences and lessons wasted because of a temporary problem in one’s life.” He then looked me at me and said something along the lines of “This is where you’re headed. We all have to face our own set of challenges at some point. If not now, then later. Get as much as you can out of your time and avoid the regret.” And with that, I woke up with a different perspective.

TL/DR - Walked into a classroom full of people who had killed themselves, and was kicked out when they found out I was still alive. Talked to a guy in the street about how we all die anyway so what’s it matter. Saw a recent suicide watching a tv screen of his life playing out if he hadn’t killed himself. Was told we all have to go through hardships, it’s part of our growth, and suicide only leads to deep regret.