Here's Your Messed-Up Post-Glastonbury Comedown Dreams, Illustrated!
Earlier this week we asked you lot to send in your post-Glastonbury dreams to get them illustrated. Here's the results!
After four days of toxic consumption, dehydration, visual stimulation, and glazed nostalgia, in a mystical field with 175,000 other people, it's no wonder you have the most fucked up dreams of the year straight after you return from Glastonbury. So, earlier this week we asked you lot to send yours in via email. Why? So we could get them illustrated, obviously, and recognise your hallucinogenic snooze trips in full colour. Because (A) we want to analyze the deep inner-grottos of our reader's brains and (B) the results last year were hilarious, like the one from above. It looks like some of you are pretty damn messed up.
This year’s dreams ranged from the simple - streaming through the sky like a human-bird - to the complex. Almost everyone woke up hugging their pillow or drenched in a pool of sweat. So without delaying the results of one of our most interesting experiments yet, here's your messed-up post-Glastonbury dreams in illustration form. The results are, of course, anonymous, and sorry if yours didn't feature. We received a lot!
My Dad as a Victorian
My bedroom opens onto the garden, and in my dream I was in the room and could see my Dad at the window. I got out of bed to walk over and let him in, but as I approached, hair started growing out the sides of his bald head and his clothes starting warping into Victorian dress, meaning by the time I got to the door he basically looked like a fucked up combo of Fagin from Oliver and Larry David. At this point I bolted to the other end of the room, and when I looked out again my dad looked completely normal. I kept re-approaching but he turned into the long haired Victorian man every time. This carried on for ages until eventually the scary long-haired bloke broke into the room and chased me with a feather.
A Trip to School
Picture the scene: it's three in the afternoon and my Uncle picks me up in a brand new Aston Martin. Without a single reference to where the car has appeared from or why we've both run into each other in the desert, I jump in for a spin. I'm excited! We have the roof down, and what's left of my Uncle's silver-tinged hairline blows in the wind. Somehow his wife is now in the car too. She looks like Kim Kardashian but British. We're on our way to secondary school now, and we're drifting around every corner, almost smashing into a petrol station and losing control. We park up on a mountain side then the clown from Slipknot chases me down a hill. I wake up and hug my pillow.
Kanye Wants Me
I am in a mansion. The kind where cushions adorn every sofa, a treasure chest of a coffee table sits in the middle of the lounge, and gold-rimmed paintings deck the walls. It's very plush. I've never been here before but my purpose is very clear. If I walk outside the room to the back door, Kanye West will be waiting for me. So I follow my own lead and tread outside. As I reach the patio, all the lights in the house turn out. Kanye is stood here. A small candle light appears in between our faces. He tells me that anything is possible. I tell him I know. He tells me he's been looking for me his entire life. He asks me to join Donda. I agree and walk back inside, promising not to tell anyone. I wake up feeling disappointed that I've soaked the sheets in sweat.
I was trying to ride a missile in the sky but it wasn’t working out for me. The missile looked like one that sticks out of Doctor N. Gin’s head in Crash Bandicoot and I was struggling to hold on for what felt like ages. Eventually I fell off and tumbled toward the city - which was purple, and made out of Playstation One graphics.
No, Honestly, That's Him
All I can remember is Amy Winehouse was trying to explain to me why it was actually Michael Jackson moonwalking in the thunderstorm outside. She looked like the mural picture of her in that pub in Camden, like she was a real life illustration.
I belonged to a gang of about 7 or 8 kids, and we were staying in our friend’s parent’s place while they were away. The house was like Lara Croft’s mansion, with huge bannisters you could slide down and chandeliers you could swing off. Everything was great until one of the gang revealed that he needed to steal a ladder from his evil stepdad, so we had to go to this guy’s house and sneak on to the roof of the shed where the stepdad kept his ladder. We found the ladder and had a party on the roof of the shed, but the whole thing was underpinned by a creeping sense of dread that the stepdad could find us at any minute. I can’t remember if he ever did.
All illustrations are courtesy of www.dreame.me. Want your own dream illustrated? We got you. Tell us your secret. Think about your deepest and darkest dream and connect with one of Dreame's artists to turn your most incredible memory, fantasy or story into a picture worth more than a thousand words. Claim your exclusive Noisey discount code within the next 48 hours. Enter mymindmydreame at checkout.