Strange Dreams and Souls

Dreams are weirdness. Mine, when I have them, are especially weird.

Last night I dreamt I was being hunted by some military people. The areas ranged from jungle to urban sprawls. I don't dream often, but I do have this type of dream a lot. The 'hunted' type dream. To be quite truthful, I quite enjoy it.
Last night I also dreamt that I had an Ipod Mini, and that had an 'invisible' feature, where it would just shimmer and vanish, sorta like the Predator. I wonder what this means?

I've only had about 3 types of recurring dream in my lifetime so far. The first, the most recent recurring, is about soldiers hunting me, and is quite good fun. I don't remember a lot of specific details about it, but I remember the strange blend of excitement and fear. It's pleasing.

The second type, which I used to have a lot when I was younger, is about me being trapped inside a house I used to live in, and I'm being chased by some invisible ummmm.... 'thing' is the best description. What is most strange about this dream is that it flicks from my perception, to viewing the chase through the eyes of it. I run round the house, turning on the light switches because I know that if I get the lights on, then everything will be ok.
Unfortunately for me, the lights come on, but are incredibly dim, akin to the lowest setting on a dimmer switch. The shadows are softened, but the darkness remains, and there's still something in the house after me. Streetlight floods in through certain windows, but it's not bright enough to help.

While I run the gauntlet through the barely lit house, my vision keeps flicking to that of the thing. It's fast, the edges of it's vision blurred by the speed. It moves swiftly and smoothly, low to the ground, and occasionally I catch glimpses of myself through it's eyes. It's amazing I'm managing to stay ahead for so long.
Eventually, it catches me in the streetlamp lit front room. I'm stood by the windows, and the thing is the other side of the room. I can't see it, but I know it's there, sitting in impenetrable darkness. Suddenly it moves, and I'm seeing through it again. It swoops in a wide fast arc around the edge of the room towards me, and then swooshes right up to my my face. The whole movement takes less than a second, and as I see the look of fear on my face through it's eyes, I wake up.

The last recurring dream I 've had was a few years ago. I only had it a couple of times, but it was kinda creepy nonetheless.
I'm in a library, but in my dream I only see one small section of it. There's a big old wooden table with a couple of lamps on it. Behind the table is an enormous bookcase, maybe 4 metres wide, and it goes from the floor right the way up to the ceiling. At each of the bookcase ends are another bookcase, facing in and creating a 'C' shape around the desk. There are thousands of old thick books on the bookshelves.

There are a couple of children sat at the table, a boy of abot 7 and a girl is around be 4 or 5. They're wearing Victorian style clothes, but this isn't the only thing that isn't right. At first I can't place what the matter with them is. They seem to be turning the pages of books, but aren't actually reading. Apart from the odd rustle of the pages neither child makes a single sound. They seem weary and tired, devoid of all colour and vigor. Page after page they turn, until they get to the end of the book each is reading, at which they close the book, and slowly move towards the bookcase. They replace the book, take another and then move back to the table to repeat the process.

I step closer, into the light shed by the lamps, but neither looks up from the books.
It's only then I notice they're ever so slightly transparent, and somehow, I immediately know what's wrong with them. You may be thinking that they're ghosts, but they're not.

They're soul-less.

I don't know how I know this, I just do. As my dream progresses although neither child says a word, I come to understand that they have been looking for their souls. The souls are hidden in a book, somewhere in the library. With no concept of time or impatience, their empty shells search for the contents to go back inside, one page at a time, a faint glimmer of dissappointment in their once sparkling eyes every time they turn a page and fail to find their souls. They've been there for hundreds of years, and they seem to be no closer to their goal than when they started, but still they quietly trudge on.

The library is huge, and I try to help, but it's useless. I don't really remember how the dream ends, but I always wake up pleased that my 'soul' is in tact.

So those are my three recuring dreams. What do they mean I wonder?

Oh, and completely off topic, I learned today that although it is impossible for man to walk across the surface of water, it is possible for him (or her!) to walk across custard. Providing they don't stop walking, or they'll sink.