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We Got Your Messed-Up Post-Glastonbury Comedown Dreams Illustrated

The fucked up subconsciouses of Noisey readers, seen for the first time.

Earlier this week, in a sign that Noisey is slowly being overrun with stoners who want to talk about their feelings, we asked you to tell us what fucked up lucid dreams you had on the night you got back from Glastonbury. We got a shitload of responses and saw some eerie patterns emerging.

Most of you seemed to spend a portion of the dream aware that you were dreaming and trying to wake yourself up. Lots of the dreams involved you killing someone that you know, which is nice. All of you woke up in the middle of the night having sweat the bed. Basically, if you ever wanted evidence that drugs fuck with your head long after they've worn off, you should come and have a look at our inbox.


Anyway, some of your stories were too good to ignore so we got in contact with Dreame, a bunch of illustrators from around the world who you can commission to draw your dreams for you. They offered to illustrate five of your most fucked up dreams - so here they are along with your stories (which we've kept anonymous).

Illustration by Jennifer Kirkham in Newcastle, UK

I was back in my secondary school uniform, standing in the garden with my grandad and I had a feeling something bad had happened. I looked down and saw a shovel. My grandad looked terrified. He didn't have to say anything to me but I knew he had murdered a woman. I found her body in the shed, I never saw her head or torso just all of her limbs. I helped him dig a massive hole, not saying a word. He disappeared and I carried on burying her limbs, I didn't care who she was or why he had done it, I just knew I had to get rid of the evidence for him. Once she was totally buried I got a catalogue from the garden centre and totally renovated the garden and planted a beautiful tree and lots of colourful plants. Then I went to the pub which was packed but I found a seat and bought myself and my grandad a pint whilst we sat waiting for the police to turn up and arrest us, or see if we had gotten away with it.

Illustration by Krusty Wheatfield from Oakland, California

The Stone Circle was replaced by a rocky oasis full of all the crusty hippies. They were all tending to their young. All at once, a bunch of thugs turn up, picked up massive rocks and bludgeoned them all. I "wake up" yet I am still in the dream. I'm at camp with plastic Dracula teeth stuck in my mouth and a massive afro that gets in the way of my vision. No one understands me, they politely nod and drag me around the site (think Police Rave Unit without the LARPing) before launching me in the air. I then get the falling down thing in my stomach and land back in bed. Except no actually I'm still in the dream but there's thousands of people all jogging around the Pyramid stage like a communist camp with Michael Eavis' head floating above with a really nice smile on his face.


illustration by LeetchiSan (Sharp-Lee) in Johannesburg, South Africa

I dreamt that China invaded the UK, shooting these slow-moving missiles that didn't explode, but just landed and stood ominously. China was led by Figueroa from Orange Is The New Black, and she made me her unwitting pawn/bait/spy.

Illustration by Irina Golina-Sagatelian in Modiin, Israel

My post-glastonbury dream involved being tied to a bed and given a hand-job by a 20-stone woman whilst forced to listen to what she informed me was Nickelback's obscure debut album.

Illustration by Casper Schutte in Cape Town, South Africa

I was trying to sell loads of ugly furniture so I didn't get fired from work, and ended up selling a car to Vanessa Feltz (but she wasn't happy about a scratch on the bumper). Then a group of men dressed as skeletons chased me and were trying to kill me for meat, but I knew that was a dream and woke myself up. When I woke up, I was in an old boarding school. Some bloke in there was trying to prove ghosts are fake but actually ended up summoning a demon. Everyone in the school knew shit was getting real so loads of guards were summoned, and there were riots outside the school because people aren't happy that the "posh Gerrys" are being protected over everyone else, and then the posh people get mad because they were getting called Gerrys instead of Germans. Then everyone gathers in a courtyard and in one of the really young classes two kids are missing. We look up to a big doorway and one of the missing children has been killed by the other who's been possessed, with "St Vincent the martyr" written in blood above the doorway and his corpse hung beneath with entrails hanging out. Then a group of us girls decided the only way to defeat the demon is to attack it head on so we got loads of spears and heavy books as weapons. Then a loud voice said the demon had been defeated as we all learnt to face our fears head on and actually take action against bad shit.

Our thanks to - check them out.

Glastonbury Is A Paradise