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Yes, I have other people's dreams. When I tell them, people are shocked. They say they had the exact same dream. Goosebumps run through them. They usually ask me what the dream is about and how things will go from there. A dream is personal information, and its appearance is associated with an astral connection that cannot be seen with ordinary eyes.
Quite often I see dreams, the central character of which is not me, but another person. In some cases, I do not see such a dream from somewhere above/from the side; on the contrary, it comes from the person's face, that's what is interesting. When I wake up, I feel feelings, emotions, and pain that are especially pronounced in a dream where another person is acting, just as clearly as it happens in dreams with my participation.
I do not know why all this is happening, how to explain it, but it is very unusual and interesting to be in the shoes of another person, to experience their emotions. There were dreams both on behalf of some complete strangers, and on behalf of the heroes of TV shows and books, real personalities.
For example, just a week or two ago, I had a dream starring C (you'll never guess:D) Emperor Nicholas I of the Russian Empire. The dream, by the way, was rather ridiculous: Nicholas somehow accidentally burned down the Winter Palace. The whole of St. Petersburg turned against him, and he was shamefully deported to some forests. However, a strange and extravagant dark-haired lady, a sort of Carmen, wanted to take revenge on Nikolai personally; she went in pursuit of him in a cart with a half-deaf peasant boy and dogs. Then Nikolai ran away from the dogs, ran away from the girl, and then he came across a wooden tower about the height of a five-story house and climbed up. Carmen ran after him. The heroes met at the top of the stairs; the girl took a revolver out of her stocking and, sobbing and telling how Nicholas had courted her and brutally abandoned her, began to aim at the emperor. Nikolai looked down and noticed a huge pile of straw right under the tower. Crossing himself, he jumped, rolled, and took a leap of faith. Carmen ran downstairs in a daze; Nikolai pretended to be dead. Poking the sovereign with her wand, she sobbed and was gone.
In short, what not to dream! There was even one dream from the face of an animal-a wolf that went to the afterlife(o_o).
Sometimes it happens that I'm not me in a dream, but a person of a different race, a different sex, and sometimes not a person at all (I haven't been an animal yet). It is noteworthy that these dreams are logical, and their plot is thought out to the smallest detail. So, almost like Pelevin, you stand in the middle of the Colosseum arena and suddenly you hang up: “Wait a minute! Why am I a sweaty gladiator?”. And while you're trying to untimely identify yourself, half your head is blown off.
I consider this to be the cost of the RPG craze, including literary games.