I have in the past.  Those ones mostly involved dying. 

Up until I was about 9, I kept dreaming I was playing in an attick full of boxes of old clothing, passing my hand through a candle flame as an older brother had taught me and my mother forbidden.  The house is unpainted clapboard, three stories high, has a barn some distance from it and various outbuilding all around.  It sits in the middle of a veritable golden ocean of wheat fields and not much else. Then I knock the candle over and the attic is alight with hot flames and smoke everywhere and no way to escape.  I go to the window and scream for help.  A bucket brigage is formed of farm workers and some people that arrived on horse-pulled buckboards, but they couldn't do enough fast enough and I somehow see the whole house engulfed in flames from some vantage point above it and know I've did, but not how really.  I don't know if I jumped, got smoke inhalation, or simply burned up... just died.  I thought I was seeing how I was going to die until after I turned 9 and the dreams abruptly stopped.  In retrospect, everything was far too old-fashioned to represent any notion of the future unless, somehow we just dropped back to the early 1900s.

The other dream is more modern.  I'm in a little red sport car, riding with someone to whom I was apparently newly wed down from mountain ski lodge where we'd honeymooned.  It's early morning and we're driving through a sleeping little town when we get broadsided by a truck coming through intersection.  I'm suddenly above the scene of the accident and see a body covered with a sheet while another is loaded into an ambulance.  I can't understand what just happened, so I follow the ambulance.  Then I'm suddenly in a hospital room and seeing my husband bandaged head to toe and realize that I'm the one that didn't survive.  But I can't touch him or make him see me to understand that I'm still here and okay.  My hands pass right through him.  He doesn't hear anything I say to him.  I'm so sad I drift right away into grayness wish he'd at least just acknowledged me in some way... at least tried to talk to me knowing I'd be there.  Of course I'd be there!  That dream stopped after I'd turned 21 I think it was.

More current dreams are not quite so repetitive and seldom have anything to do with death - nor do I fear it anymore. 

The most repetive my current dreams get is that I will see many of the same places over and over again in my dreams as though Dreamland had an actual landscape that could be mapped out.
   

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