The “characters” in my dreams, are as diverse as my life has been.
I am a Lucid Dreamer though, so I can choose/control a lot of the variables in my dreams.
True story.
Once about 15 years ago, I dreamt I was a black African villager, and my village got attacked by other black people who killed us with guns and machetes.
It was absolutely incredibly vivid. We were not like African spear carrying people. We had crude metal structures like a favela, and we had dirty but “regular” clothes.
I was working when the attack started. I wanted to help, but instead I ran with most others to a warehouse type place.
We were regrouping, and it was very dusty, and some people were hurt, others crying.
The remaining men, and myself were about to try to leave and go back to fight. We were gathered at a metal door, everyone was silent. All trying to prepare for a counter attack, and still very much in shock.
We were about to charge out, when the door busted in, and black “army of no nation”-like black soldiers were just mowing us down with old AK-47s, and grenades.
Everyone around me was dying, and I was trying to push my way away from all the calamity. I was stuck with nowhere to go though. I didn’t see who threw it, but a grenade landed by my feet. I jumped and kicked, trying to crawl away from it through all the chaos. Then reality hit me, I had no time, death or horrific injury was imminent.
I woke up, right as it exploded.
My entire African village, was murdered.
It was surreal. I was emotionally overwhelmed, all day at work. I recounted my dream to my coworkers. I still remember it, as if it really happened. Smells, heat, everything was like 100% real.
I have carried that nonexistent tragedy, to this day. I’m a viking looking white guy, who still mourns his black African villagers who died.
That’s either diverse as Hell, or a memory from my past life.