You went from my life right into my dreams,i can hardly tell,If i'm cursed or blessed ;I am sure things aren't always as they seem,but i drift away,mesmerized, possessed.Memories i have uncertain and fragile,Is what i have left and i have no peace,At dawn fades away,all that i imagine,i crave for your closeness,i need more then this.Perhaps you are meant to guide and inspire,to be ever timeless in the veil of mist,flowing through my being in flaming desire,the one i can't reach and cannot resist.My darling,unique,outstanding perfection,so utterly complex you can't be recreated,I may be unworthy of your smallest fraction,But you've never loved,nor anticipated.Every great passion is a work of fiction,when we long for something that we cannot find,Single thought of you is like an addiction,yet,you're not exalted,except in my mind.

لا يتحمل الحياة بلا أحلام ..منذ طفولتي لم أجرب العيش بلا أحلام ..أن تنتظر شيئًا .. أن تُحرم من شيء .. أن تغلق عينيك ليلًا وأنت تأمل في شيء .. أن تتلقى وعدًا بشيء ..

The thing about the Lexington International Bank ladder was that it was very long, and climbing it was very exhausting, and so Andrew Brown didn't have a lot of time to think about whether he really wanted to get to the top of it—and besides, since so many other people were climbing too, the view from the top must be worth it.So he kept going. He worked hard. He put his heart and mind and soul into it. There was an opening for a position half a rung higher than he already was. With a promotion, he might get two hours a week of a secretary's time. He'd go to more important meetings, with more senior people, and have the opportunity to impress them, and if he did he might be promoted again and then... well, of course eventually he'd be running the whole office. It's important to have a dream: otherwise you might notice where you really are.

Rest you here, enchanter, while the light fades,Vision narrows, and the farSky-edge is gone with the sun.Be content with the small sparkOf the coal, the smellOf food, and the breathOf frost beyond the shut door. Home is here, and familiar things;A cup, a wooden bowl, a blanket,Prayer, a gift for the god, and sleep.(And music, says the harp, And music.)Rest here, enchanter, while the fire dies.In a breath, in an eyelid's fall,You will see them, the dreams;The sword and the young king,The white horse and the running water,The lit lamp and the boy smiling.Dreams, dreams, enchanter! Gone with the harp's echowhen the stringsFall mute; with the flame's shadow when the fireDies.Be still, and listen.Far on the black air Blows the great wind, risesThe running tide, flows the clear river.Listen, enchanter, hearThrough the black air and the singing airThe music….

Никакая ощутимая, реальная прелесть не может сравниться с тем, что способен накопить человек в глубинах своей фантазии.Ник Кэррэвэй"Великий Гэтсби

أحلامنا الطائشة أثناء النوم تهزأ بوعينا في اليقظةهناك ألعب دور البطولة..بدون مسرح.. وبدون نص..وبدون أبطال و (كومبارس)..كل شيء كان صامتاً ولم يحمل أي إيحاءات..

One noći smo bili, rekao sam mu, ispred neke kuće na Florin bulevaru... Lynn je želela da hoda bosa, skinula je cipele i stavila ih u tašnu. Šetali smo tako ispred te kuće... Onda je ulicom prošla neka dečurlija sa maskama na licu. Vraćali su se sa nekog karnevala. Jedan od njih je prišao Lynn i upitao je:- Zbog čega vi hodate bosi?Zaustavili su se i napravili krug oko nas. Svi zajedno su imali godina koliko i mi.- Tako se brže hoda, odgovorila im je.- Stvarno?, rekli su svi u glas.- Da, rekla je Lynn, skineš cipele samo onda kad odlučiš kuda želiš da ideš. Kuda vi želite da idete?- U Diznilend, rekli su- Skinite onda cipele, rekla je Lynn. Bićete tamo za pet minuta.Klinci su stvarno poskidali cipele i pojurili ka Diznilendu.- Pogledaj ih, rekla mi je, žure da stignu svoj san.

These dreams are disappearingSpeak and be misunderstood Or be silent and goodand as how far as it lookThese dreams are disappearing..Put hopes in a box and tieIt's either protect it or dieMaintain the truth or talk a lieThese dreams are disappearing..Mountains of gold and a lovely cata house by a lake and a lovely chata day in paradise and all of thatThese dreams are disappearing..Chase a purpose of life and doand be the one you wanted toand be with who have always wanted youThese dreams are disappearing..Run in pace and catch the sunRaise a family and have a sonBuild a home, not only oneThese dreams are disappearing..In daily wars like on regular basesIn daily problems a puzzled mazes In daily issues and complications These dreams are disappearing..Nothing is lost but nothing is healingAll is gone and all is leakingSome hope to hold on to and keep dreamingAlthough these dreams are disappearing...Ahmed Adel Hassona

He took the hand that wasn’t holding the bou­quet of wildflowers and stared at it, holding it so tightly that she thought he might crack her bones. Then his hold gentled. He slipped a gold ring onto her finger and lifted his gaze to hers.“I’m not a brave man; I’ll never be a hero, but I love you more than life itself, and I will until the day I die. With you by my side, I’m a better man than I’ve ever been alone. I’m scared to death that I’ll let you down, but I won’t run this time. I’ll stand firm and face the challenge and work hard to see that you never have any regrets. You told me once that you wanted to share a corner of my dream. Without you, Amelia, I have no dream. With you, I have everything I could ever dream of wanting.”Tears burned her eyes as he glanced back at the preacher. “I’m done.”-Houston to Amelia as his wedding vow.

Thomas Builds-the-Fire closed his eyes and told this story:“I remember when I had this dream that told me to go to Spokane, to stand by the falls in the middle of the city and wait for a sign. I knew I had to go there but I didn’t have a car. Didn’t have a license. I was only thirteen. So I walked all the way, took me all day, and I finally made it to the falls. I stood there for an hour waiting. Then your dad came walking up. ‘What the hell are you doing here? He asked me. I said, ‘waiting for a vision.’ Then your father said, ‘All you’re going to get here is mugged.’ So he drove me to Denny’s, bought me dinner, and then drove me home to the reservation. For a long time I was mad because I thought my dreams had lied to me. But they didn’t. Your dad was my vision. ‘Take care of each other’ is what my dreams were saying. ‘Take care of each other.

All of the myths of mankind are nothing but show business,' the other man said to me during our initial meeting. 'Everything that we supposedly live by and supposedly die by — whether it's religious scriptures or makeshift slogans — all of it is show business. The rise and fall of empires — show business. Science, philosophy, all of the disciplines under the sun, and even the sun itself, as well as all those other clumps of matter wobbling about in the blackness up there —' he said to me, pointing out the window beside the coffee-shop booth in which we sat, 'show business, show business, show business.' 'And what about dreams?' I asked, thinking I might have hit upon an exception to his dogmatic view, or at least one that he would accept as such. 'You mean the dreams of the sort we are having at this moment or the ones we have when we're fortunate enough to sleep?

The Internet was always destined to be...The framework for its invention has always existed so to one day provide a vehicle for Critical Mass Consciousness. Through its speed and convenience, the Internet has the power for global and indeed universal transformation. Critical Mass Consciousness can work with the Law of Attraction to actualize an abundant global paradigm for all. Naturally, there is also an opportunity for misuse. How this medium is used on a personal and mass level will determine this culture’s past and future karma…You’re at page ten but I understand the entire evolution. In reality, it’s already over. It’s a dream. Remember? You’re living a dream. It’s very complicated to hold the dream and live the dream. You are learning the art of juggling the dream and the world of dreams.”-Kuan Yin (from "Critical Mass Consciousness: Kuan Yin Speaks on Humanity's Evolutionary Potential

...a bad diet will eventually kill our dreams. It's essential that we constantly evaluate the nutritional value of what we are feeding ourselves. It may come down to how many hours of television we're viewing, the quality of the programs we're watching, what music we're listening to, the material we're reading, the conversations we're having, the movies we're seeing, the Web sites we're visiting, the video games we're playing, or the people with whom we're associating. As harmless as these may sometimes seem, excessive consumption of things that induce negative thinking, bad habits, and wrong behavior will thwart our potential.A good litmus test is to ask yourself if you're giving more airtime to the media, educators, politicians, economists, pop stars, friends, or tradition than you are to God's Word. To see our dreams actualized, God's Word and His will must take precedence over everything else.

[...] I grew up out of that strange, dreamy childhood of mine and went into the world of reality. I met with experiences that bruised my spirit - but they never harmed my ideal world. That was always mine to retreat into at will. I learned that that world and the real world clashed hopelessly and irreconcilably; and I learned to keep them apart so that the former might remain for me unspoiled. I learned to meet other people on their own ground since there seemed to be no meeting place on mine. I learned to hide the thoughts and dreams and fancies that had no place in the strife and clash of the market place. I found that it was useless to look for kindred souls in the multitude; one might stumble on such here and there, but as a rule it seemed to me that the majority of people lived for the things of time and sense alone and could not understand my other life. So I piped and danced to other people's piping - and held fast to my own soul as best I could.

Near my feet is a glowing archway. The light is white and shimmery, like iridescent glitter, and it’s so tall the top nearly brushes the ceiling. Inside, instead of seeing the cement wall of the basement, I’m looking at evenly spaced wooden pillars and a reed-mat floor. Standing on that mat is a woman with curves that would make a Playboy model jealous. She’s wearing a long, butter yellow dress, and her white hair hangs down to her waist. She looks like an angel when she smiles at me, holding out her hands.“Hudson, come with me.” Her voice reminds me of the breeze rustling through the trees near the lake. Soft and subtle and calming. “Let me help you.”Did I die? Maybe the scratch on my side got infected. Maybe I’ve been slowly bleeding to death from internal injuries for the past week. Who knows? If this is death, if she’s what’s waiting for me on the other side, then fuck it. I’m letting go.