What are Syria dreams about?

Last night I had a dream that I was in my old school exam hall at Christmas with my cousins and one of my friends. My sister tried to do a puppet show (i have no idea where this came from), and everyone messed it up and so i told her to stop cos she was embarrassing herself, then my old teacher walks in dressed like a chipmunk from Alvin and the chipmunks and tells me off for not being dressed like one. Then for some reason I walk out the door and I’m in my gran’s house, which is full of gray goo people speaking in American accents and arguing about which pizza to eat (vegan or not), then they spot and arrest me for terrorism, then I was in a cell full of isis members and we bust out and go back to syria, then I betrayed isis and joined the Syrian Arab Republic, which was an asda carpark, where I met Syrian president Bashar Al-Assad who spoke with a welsh accent. Then a gray goo man walked in and pissed himself and then I woke up. Wtf?

I dreamt of a girl who I met in the dream at a park near a shopping store with other friends. We were heading somewhere, and were ahead of the other people in the group. She greeted me in an Islamic way, she said asalam o alikum excitedly, I replied walaikum asalam. She said I said it wrong in her language, and I was confused because that’s always been the way I said it in. She started randomly speaking some language that sounded like Arabic, I asked what language she spoke, she replied Syriac. I replied “Syriac... like from Syria?” She went “Mhm.” I assumed that I didn’t say it right in a Syrian accent, since my accent is American. After a while, I went “Could I get your Instagram? I think your an interesting person and we could talk about other stuff too.” Then she gave me her instagram. We saw 2 people who seemed bf and gf, then one of them said something loud I guess in a call, the girl who I’ve been talking to, thought they said it to us, but they didn’t. Then the 2 just stared. Then our friends, (actually someone I recognize from real life), came over and joked about us being together since we walked together for a while, I went “oh nahhhh” out of instinct. Then the girl said, “It’s okay.” She had the perfect voice in my preference, it was nice to talk to and didn’t annoy me one-bit. She had short hair that reached the bottom of her neck, it looked something around dark-red to brown to black. I don’t remember anything else from the dream, I think that at that point I had woke up. It’s interesting because I don’t think Syriac’s typically use those greetings, she might’ve been a Muslim or saw that I looked like one.

This was a dream that I had when I was 16-17. Currently 22. Every now and again I remember this dream because it was the only one I had that made me feel horrible. When I was 16, I was a very big military kid. I watched action military movies like saving private ryan, lone survivor, 13 hours, etc. Wanted to serve the army and was big into the whole," Im gonna be special forces!" thing. I was also going through a very bad depression during the time and felt allot of anxiety about my future and didn't feel like I had good friends who understood my obsession.

In my dream, I finally arrived to Syria to fight off terrorists and save the day. I was walking in the Syrian desert and just assumed I arrived by walking all the way from the states. As I was walking, I see a horse emerge from the desert horizon. A man who was dressed up as Zorro was sitting on top of the horse while holding a rifle with a fixed bayonet. I raise my rifle to shoot him and pull the trigger but my rifle jams. This man then bayonet charged me while on his horse and impaled me. I fall to the ground, everything goes black and now I wake up in an ISIS torture chamber.

Im sitting in a chair tied down by thick rope and im in front of a big metal door. Two men walk in, both with thick beards and dressed with all black. They would joke with each other and laugh as if they were mocking me. Cant remember what they said. One of them grabs a sickle knife and cuts into me. Cuts into my head, my throat. I would feel it, like I actually felt pain. I felt like I was choking. Then, the torturers' would step away for a minute. My wounds would heal in an instant and the torturers would start again from square one. Laughing and mocking, it was a horrible dream.

I woke up and the first thing I did was hold onto my throat. Was very vivid and real and I still remember those details very well. I still wonder today if it means anything, haven't come to any conclusions. Would like a helping hand

In this dream I had just got off a bus to Paris. I was made aware that they were in the midst of a really big war with Syria, but I thought it wouldn’t effect me since I was just a tourist. As soon as I got off i saw different lines and sections of French people waiting to be executed by those from Syria, it basically looked like some sort of public concentration camp.

In the lines, they were awaiting to be put on a metal cross with chains. I thought at first that it would be like an actual crucifixion, but they would get electrocuted to death once they were placed properly on it. There were a bunch of other forms of execution that people were awaiting that I forgot about. I remember swiftly avoiding the people running the camp and running into a nearby arcade where people were happily talking. I joined in on a conversation until someone from Syria ran into the arcade with a large gun and started shooting at everyone. I once again escaped and walked until nighttime when I found a dark restaurant to hide in and eat at.

It was there that I met a guy that was very charming and sweet, he flirted with me and I winked at him a few times and went up to kiss his arm, which I guess was the normal way to flirt in this dream world. I went to a hotel and felt very unsafe for the rest of the night, that’s all I remember from this dream.

Had a very strange dream last night. It began in New York City. Apparently, I planned on travelling to Syria with some friends of mine and a few redneck bikers we met somewhere. For some reason we were under the impression that there was some means of direct transit between NYC and Syria. The rednecks were reckless, brandishing their assault rifles as they were driving down main thoroughfares in the city. I remember some sort of trouble with the police – something to do with hard drugs that the rednecks were on or carrying. I seem to remember a gas station getting blown up in the process. My friends and I got bailed out of it by some cop who bore a face I recognized but a name I had forgotten.

We wound up in Syria though. We didn’t join up with anyone, but we were trying to get as close to the front lines as possible for some reason. We were filming what was happening if I’m not mistaken. At some point, we were pinned down on the street by someone shooting at us. I picked up a gun lying on the ground, an RPK machine gun, and returned fire so that they would duck, and we could get away. I’m not sure if I continued to carry the gun after we got away from the marksman that had us pinned down, but I think I probably did. The next house we ran into was occupied by a bunch of Rojava leftists, so we embedded with them. I distinctly remember seeing from the perspective of the camera at one point as we walked into a room occupied by enemy soldiers that didn’t notice us until the Rojava militants jumped on them and hacked them to pieces.

Next thing I know I’m back home, giving some presentation on my trip to Syria. I don’t know what the class was on, but it feels like I embellished a lot and I remember feeling guilty for embellishing. Afterwards, I’m back at the house and I see something moving in the woods behind our backyard. I take a closer look and it’s a Yautja alien. My mother even looked and came to the same conclusion. There’s another creature with it – I have difficulty remembering but I think it was an alien hunting dog. Once it had our attention, the Yautja leapt over our back fence from our neighbor Satti’s side and began dancing with us. It had white armor and white dreadlocks, I think. I’m not sure how long this went on.

Then I’m in the garage and there’s two or three men of Asian descent asleep in a car in our driveway. I thought that they were Korean, but I wasn’t sure. They were armed, in full kit but napping. Then I notice that a xenomorph is encased in restrictive armor where my refrigerator currently resides in our garage. It appeared to be sleeping. I wheel the xenomorph out of where it had been placed and start undoing the armor. I was able to remove the arm restraints, but I don’t believe that I ever completely removed the armor and released the xenomorph because I don’t know how. The Asian man in the driver seat calls out to me to stop so I then bear down on him and remind him, in very close quarters, that I am the one who dances with the Gods.

I then find myself aboard a starship, in a sealed room with a restrained xenomorph in it, secured behind a windowed pod that slides up and down for study. I was working alongside several scientists in white smocks or gowns that all had a device resting around the top of their heads, just above their ears. It was a golden band of electronics that I guess was used for communication. Apparently, it was our job to communicate with the xenomorph, release it and tame it. We were all butchered. But it happened over and over again. As if after each failure, we were physically reconstituted through cloning and neurological technology and put back to our task. I believe it was the same xenomorph we were working with as well, which may give up on hostility once it realizes that it cannot kill us.

Finally, I’m observing an ancient temple from a disembodied perspective. There’s a hole in the floor of the temple, sand everywhere. A lion runs up to the hole in the floor of the temple and looks in, spotting two sheep who were walking up to the hole. The lion pounces in and, at first, I thought he was going to eat them. But the lion walks past them and they both turn to follow him into the underbelly of the temple. They walk up to a giant urn – about six or seven feet tall with an etched portrait of a xenomorph on the side. The sheep seem powerless to do anything with the urn, but the lion instinctively jumps on top of it, releasing some sort of pressure plate. The lion then hops down and begins pushing the urn towards nearby ledge as the sheep join him in pushing it. I wake up as the urn smashes against the ground.