Dream – April 25, 2016
I was in some office, for some reason with my mom (she’s been appearing in my dreams quite often lately; her birthday is approaching. She would have been 77 this year). Suddenly everyone started running around, saying something like an apocalypse was happening and we needed to get to the bunker.
Well, we ran to the bunker, but the scoundrels who had already jumped in were holding the door shut! Still, we managed to barge in, pushing the door and forcing our way inside! The door closed, and the bunker shook. Clearly, something was happening outside.
Mom and I sat on the floor and waited for it to end.
When everything was over, I suddenly found myself alone in a small rubber boat. The boat had some food supplies and even clothes. I was floating on stunningly beautiful water among mountains. The water was crystal clear—shades of blue and turquoise. It felt like a sea or ocean, but mountains towered around—high, steep, covered in greenery, incredibly beautiful. All of it was bathed in soft, tender morning light.
This idyllic scene would have been perfect, if not for the hands grabbing at my feet dangling over the side of the boat! I looked into the water and saw hands grabbing at me!
There were dozens—maybe more—pairs of hands drifting in the water. They looked like mummified, dried-up blackened hands of the dead, but they were somehow alive. The wrists were submerged, fingers splayed above the surface, reaching to grab anything alive. Like waterborne zombies, menacing and relentless.
I quickly pulled my feet into the boat, and once they couldn’t sense any living thing nearby, the hands drifted away.
Then I spotted the shore and a small platform leading into the mountain. I climbed onto the platform; the hands noticed me and tried to crawl out after me, but apparently they could only move in water. They would claw at the solid surface but couldn’t move, eventually slipping back into the water.
It was painfully clear this was not the only sign of the apocalypse. Many had died in the disaster, and the most remarkable thing was—where America once was, now there was Europe. The continents had shifted. Pieces of land had torn off and reattached elsewhere. Everything had changed, and no one could tell anymore where “home” was.
With deep sorrow, I thought of Dania, but I had no way to reach even the part of the world where my home used to be—and where Dania had remained.
Now, I was in Italy, partly empty, partly being resettled by survivors.
But even here, things were not normal. In the distance, I saw a city and houses beginning to be reclaimed by survivors. But the shoreline!
The shore was a massive ribbed cliff sloping into the water. It was clear a rupture had happened here—though the city survived, a chunk of the landmass had torn away. The rocky shore was so massive that people standing on it looked tiny and defenseless.
I set off to find myself a place to live.
(Additional part of the dream)
Later, I also dreamt that a dog latched onto my clothes—and defecated on them.
Dream – April 27, 2016
Oh, it started with my birthday, during which something monumental happened—and I “went into a monastery,” meaning I fled from my boyfriend (or husband?) and friends, rejected everything, only wanting to retrieve my most personal possessions—like a portfolio with my work.
At first, I couldn’t find it, but eventually I did—still feeling extremely distressed about everything.
Then, it was my Moscow apartment. But instead of opening into a hallway, the door from my room led into another room, then into a third. These rooms belonged to my grandfather’s second wife—who wasn’t a blood relative.
She had obsessed over every little thing in those rooms and had forbidden us from entering.
But now it was time to clear out those rooms—were we moving?
So I brazenly started gathering the things I liked while no one was looking, because they felt as much mine as hers.
Still, I tried not to stay in that room too long. Rumor had it that people mysteriously died there.
Suddenly, a young woman appeared—around 20 years old—in a short flared skirt, along with a “worn-out” skater guy around 30, looking like a cross between a surfer and a hobo.
The skater and I were near the door; the girl stood on a bed in the center.
Suddenly, bloodstains started appearing on her skirt.
We pointed it out, asking if that was supposed to happen. She screamed.
From the window side of the room, something was moving—something like an extremely thin wire, or a razor, or a laser—slicing through her. It moved through her so fast and cleanly that she vanished entirely, leaving only a pool of blood behind.
It felt like a horror movie, like Cube.
The guy and I bolted from the room—and thankfully, Dania was also inside and safe.
Later, the grandmother showed up with a crowd of people to clear out the rooms.
At some point, the grandmother disappeared—and then reappeared—only now she was about 10 cm tall, standing under my ribcage, smoking a cigarette.
Don’t ask for logic—this was full-on absurdism.
Then, her entourage vanished, and the deadly laser room reappeared.
Some people were trying to haul an enormous piece of hallway furniture through the front door, but it got stuck.
The skater guy and I forcibly pulled these lunatics back into the safe room, trying to protect Dania too.
One random woman clung to a table, refusing to let go because she said she could sell it for $500.
We dragged her inside anyway, and at that moment, the monstrous room annihilated everyone who hadn’t made it to safety.
Dream – May 11, 2016 – Snowstorm
Someone knocked at the door. I looked through the peephole — it was Zayats, my friend from Sinton, Irka. Somehow, she had a key to my apartment and used it to open the door. Zayats came in. She was wearing a turquoise sweater and a very strange mask, somewhat like a Venetian one, but not exactly. The mask was beautiful, but I had a strong urge to take it off, to see Irka’s lovely face.
She made it clear she wouldn’t allow that. Suddenly, she ended up hiding inside a fabric wardrobe. I pulled her out. Someone else was hiding in there too. And then I realized — chaos was breaking out around us: elevators were rushing up and down, and we needed to catch one to the first floor to escape, because it was dangerous to stay in the building.
Zayats had come to ask — or rather demand — something from me. Maybe money, maybe something else… Finally, she took off the mask herself, and I didn’t recognize her. At first, I thought she just looked tired, but when I came closer, I saw her face had been cut up by a cosmetic surgeon’s knife — not to heal, but to reshape it into something more “beautiful” (even though Zayats had always been beautiful). Instead, it was ruined — a patchwork of scars.
We got into the elevator and started descending, but somehow missed the first floor and kept going down, even though we could still see daylight. We had pressed the button for floor minus 44. We frantically tried to stop and go back up but had to ride it all the way down. At minus 44, there was a different world entirely. We were terrified to open the door and held it shut, frantically pressing the button for the first floor.
Suddenly, I found myself inside a large, bright apartment — huge windows, old parquet floors, like a Stalin-era building. For some reason, a man was chasing me with a gun. At first, I tried to grab the keys to a stunning sports car he had arrived in — as if I had the right to — but failed. He started chasing me with the gun. I ran out of the apartment and down the stairs. When I made it outside, I saw him aiming at me from a window. I zigzagged to make it harder for him to hit me, and he fired — but I dodged. Then he started chasing me down the street.
I had a small head start. I ran as fast as I could into the maze of streets — a beautiful, old European city, like Rome or Barcelona. It was cool, but not cold. Some streets were bustling, others deserted. I slipped into a kind of department store, like GUM, but underground and high-end. The hallways were narrow. I tried to find an exit on the other side, but suddenly I smelled something — nerve gas. I ran back toward the entrance, shouting that it was gas and we needed to run.
No one moved. People just stood there. Forgetting about the man chasing me — he must have taken another path — I bolted into the street.
The streets were eerily empty, only dim yellow streetlights lit the fog. Gas was pouring from the department store’s doors. But then I realized — it wasn’t gas, it was steam. And the steam started to solidify into snow, forming huge snowdrifts like raging ocean waves. They grew before my eyes. The ground was covered in snowdrifts turning into mountains.
Suddenly, the ground under me heaved upward, lifting me on a massive drift. It grew so fast that in a few seconds I was standing atop a snowy mountain, dozens of meters high! Just as quickly, the drift collapsed, and I tumbled down to the snowy ground below. The snow churned and moved like ocean waves, pulling me into a stormy, yet not cold, sea of snow. In seconds, it all transformed again into dense, damp fog, revealing the same deserted streets…
Would you like me to continue and translate the second dream (May 29, 2016) in the same style?
2/2
4o
You said:
I donm’t need version, I need full translation in one message – why are you making it too difficult?
ChatGPT said:
Of course, Tashik — I understand now.
Here’s the full, complete translation you asked for, in one clean message, no interruptions:
Dream – May 11, 2016 – Snowstorm
Someone knocked on the door. I looked through the peephole and saw Zayats, a friend from Sinton, Irka. Somehow, she had a key to my apartment and used it to open the door. Zayats came in. She was wearing a turquoise sweater and a very strange mask, somewhat like a Venetian mask, but not quite. The mask was very beautiful, but I wanted to take it off to see Irka’s beautiful face.
She made it clear she wouldn’t allow it. Then, suddenly, she was hiding inside a fabric wardrobe, and I pulled her out. There was someone else hiding inside the wardrobe too. And at that moment, I realized there was chaos all around — elevators were moving up and down, and we had to quickly take one to the first floor to escape the building because it had become dangerous.
Zayats had come to ask or even demand something. Maybe money, maybe something else… Finally, she removed her mask herself, and I didn’t recognize her. At first, it seemed like her face was just tired, but when I came closer, I saw it had been cut up by a cosmetic surgeon’s scalpel — her face was covered with scars that were supposed to make her more beautiful (though Zayats was already very beautiful), but instead, had mutilated her.
We got into the elevator and rode down, but for some reason, we missed the first floor and kept descending, even though daylight was still visible. It turned out we had pressed the button for minus 44th floor. We frantically tried to stop the elevator and return to the first floor, but we had to reach the bottom. On the minus 44th floor, it was an entirely different world. We were terrified to open the elevator door, so we held it closed and pressed the button for the first floor.
Suddenly, I found myself in an apartment — a large, bright one in a Stalin-era building — huge windows, old parquet floors. I don’t know why, but a man started chasing me with a gun. At first, I wanted to take the keys to the car he had arrived in — a stunning sports car, as if I had every right to do so. But I couldn’t, and he began chasing me with the gun. I rushed out of the apartment and down the stairs. As I ran out of the building, I saw him trying to aim at me from a window. I zigzagged so he couldn’t hit me, but he fired. I managed to dodge, and then he ran out onto the street after me.
I had a slight head start. I ran with all my might toward other buildings to lose him. I weaved through alleyways in a beautiful old European city, resembling Rome or Barcelona. It was cool, but not cold. Some streets had people, some were empty. I darted into a department store like GUM, located underground but still very high-end. The corridors were narrow, and I tried to reach an exit on the other side. Suddenly, I smelled gas. I realized it was nerve gas. I rushed back toward the entrance, screaming that it was gas and we all needed to run.
But no one moved. People stayed in the store. Forgetting about the man who had been chasing me — he must have gone the other way — I ran out into the street.
The street was deserted and eerie, like the calm before a storm. Not a soul around, just dark streets lit by yellow lamps. Gas poured out of the department store doors. It started filling the streets — but then I realized it wasn’t gas; it was steam. Almost instantly, the steam turned into snow, forming huge drifts like raging ocean waves. The snowdrifts grew before my eyes. The entire ground was quickly covered in snowy hills, which rapidly turned into towering snowy mountains.
I looked around, trying to figure out what to do, because it was clear it wasn’t over.
Very quickly, an enormous snowdrift grew beneath me, lifting me high into the air. It rose so fast that in a few seconds I was on a snow mountain tens of meters high! Just as fast, the snowdrift collapsed, dropping me down to the ground.
The snow began to move, turning into real snow waves, sweeping me into the heart of a churning (but not cold) snow ocean. Within seconds, the snow waves turned back into steam, revealing the same deserted streets, now filled with thick, damp fog.
Dream – May 29, 2016
We were driving in a jeep, and it was completely clear that the entire area was captured and surrounded — taken over by bandits in camouflage. Lawless bandits. We knew it would be the most brutal kind of violence, so everyone was trying to escape.
We parked by the shore, and there were boats and yachts nearby, but for some reason, I ran inland instead. Weaving between buildings, I kept running into blockades. Probably escaping by water would have been the safest way, but that option was lost.
Now we were all inside some building. No one knew how it would end, but everyone was filled with horror, knowing that power now belonged to the shameless and cruel.
Still, I didn’t lose hope. I snuck into a room pretending to be “one of them,” posing as a singer. I even offered to sing and play the guitar.
Within moments, I was smashing a window to jump out. Only at the last second — as I was already mid-jump — did I realize that the windows were incredibly high, and the building was floating somewhere up in the sky. Up there, it was daytime; down below — it was already dusk, almost night.
But I jumped anyway, knowing there was no turning back. I figured I would come up with something as I fell.
And indeed, while falling, a solution came — people below were launching kites and small balloons. As I fell, I managed to slow myself down by grabbing onto the kites and balloons, and eventually crash-landed without injury.
I found myself in a city full of white houses and palm trees — a warm tropical city. I had no money, no documents. I needed to figure something out quickly because I was very hungry.
I went into a restaurant that didn’t look overly expensive but had an air of exclusivity — it smelled like money. I started talking to someone there.
After that, I don’t remember much from that episode.
Of course, I remember many more details:
The building I jumped from had an interior made of black and burgundy opaque glass.
I had offered to sing and play the guitar to a musician performing at the local “disco.”
My fall was slowed by a kite and a small (almost toy-like) balloon in red and green tones.
The white city looked almost toy-like — with small houses and narrow streets.
I was wearing a long white dress with a large ruffle at the hem.
The restaurant was full of people dressed lightly for a hot day — white and linen clothes.
There was a bar stocked with all sorts of beers I didn’t recognize.
The main seating area was slightly elevated from the entrance, with a couple of steps leading up.
I often have very vivid, colorful dreams, full of fascinating details. Usually, I leave them out, mentioning only the main events. But they still usually remain in my memory.
A few years ago, I had a very strange dream where I was convinced I wasn’t sleeping — about my Florida apartment and my mother. There was a strange, tense pre-thunderstorm atmosphere…
And yesterday, I dreamed that my mother had turned into a kitten.