This is perhaps the most unusual dream concept for me since those fireball dreams (one of which may or may not have been posted here, I don’t remember) or the ones where the president and First Lady made (unwanted) appearances.
Those I’m pretty sure are due to overhearing the news and political comedy sketches from the living room TV on a near-constant basis. I can avoid watching it myself but, unfortunately, cannot forbid others, though I sometimes change the channel if there’s no one in the room and it’s still on as an act of rebellion. I also do that when I’m sick of ‘oldies’ stations. I’m okay with 70s–80s but I don’t like that this place sounds like a sock hop. One day that’s going to change!
Moving on, in those other dreams, fireballs started raining from the sky and bouncing along the ground—or a single large one was careening into a plaza and may or may not have killed my parents.
I look up the meanings of most of these for fun (except where it’s obvious that I’m only dreaming of things I’ve seen in waking life—and not something seemingly random) and when fire comes up, different sites and sources all agree upon anger or passion. Sometimes they mention love, but I’m highly sceptical of that in my case. I don’t put enough effort into seeking it—and I don’t see that changing anytime soon!
Back to the flamethrower, at first I thought it was a gun—a big gun, like something from Team Fortress Two—and was afraid to fire it in case I blew my shoulder/ribcage apart from the recoil. Then, for some reason, I pointed it skyward and repeated He-man’s line (lol ok) as I pulled the trigger and watched flames spurt out the end of the weapon—all while some fragile little old woman watched as if she didn’t care.
I think the meaning there is that previous generations (at least in my experience: I’m reluctantly obligated to qualify) don’t much care about my passions (if they notice). I mean come on…she didn’t react to a flamethrower! If that’s not symbolic of a passionate rant then I don’t know what is.
The second thing that happened in this dream that was strange was the presence of a dog, either a golden retriever or Labrador retriever, on a leash, who decided to lay down in a puddle—not roll or splash, just lay down— as I was trying to take them for a walk. No matter how much I pulled, the dog did not budge. There was no fighting or struggling or barking, just staying still and resisting my efforts.
That’s pretty much all I remember of that dream for now, before that it wasn’t a very comfortable night. I didn’t feel like I needed/wanted to sleep at all, and spent that time tossing and turning.