In tiefen, kalten, hohlen Räumen,Wo Schatten sich mit Schatten paaren,Wo alte Bücher Träume träumen,Von Zeiten, als sie Bäume waren,Wo Kohle Diamant gebiert,Man weder Licht noch Gnade kennt,Dort ist's, wo jener Geist regiert,Den man den Schattenkönig nennt.
I could never understand what was going on in my dreams I couldn’t control the happenings, it’s like I just stood there glued to the ground watching everything around me move and evolve into different scenarios. I was a ghost of myself watching life unravel before my own eyes...
All of my secrets and scars and wishes and dreams can live together in this one body without shame, without blame, and without fear. I am all loved, all accepted, and all in service to God. In his eyes, regardless of what I did or didn’t do today, I am loved. I am His, so I am enough.
I had a dream about you. You whispered in my ear, and I couldn’t quite hear what you said because Beethoven was being deaf too loud in the corner of the room. I thought you said you loved me, but it’s also possible you said it sounds like a racehorse galloping when I pee.
She had dreamed some brilliant dreams during the past winter and now they lay in the dust around her. In her present mood of self-disgust, she could not immediately begin dreaming again. And she discovered that, while solitude with dreams is glorious, solitude without them has few charms.
Did you hear about the rose that grew from a crack in the concrete? Proving nature's laws wrong, it learned to walk without having feet. Funny, it seems to by keeping it's dreams; it learned to breathe fresh air. Long live the rose that grew from concrete when no one else even cared.
I had a dream about you. You were cooking me dinner, and I was standing by the stove questioning your every move. You found me ungrateful, and I found the number for Chinese takeout. I may not have wanted your food, but I still wanted your love. Your love isn’t burnt too, is it?
Someone smashed a flutterfler and without even thinking she touched her Stone and used Wyrd to piece its broken body back together. She filled its empty vessels with dreams and it became the stuff it used for blood. It brushed her cheek with its wings, then flew off -- dancing in the hot air.
I had a dream about you, You were peeing behind a house and when I approached you, you smiled and said to me "Your face makes me happy" I was so flattered by your words and impressed that you could pee and still talk to me.
The possibility suggests itself that no dreams, however absurd or senseless, are wasted in the universe. Embedded in the dream is a hunger for its own reification, a demand that imposes an obligation on reality and that grows imperceptibly into a bona fide claim, an IOU clamoring for payment.
I had a dream about you. You were a dolphin in a fur coat, and I was your shrink telling you that you were experiencing feelings of mammal inadequacies. You thought instead of paying me, your money would be better spent on sex, and I agreed. So I sold you a box of condoms and dead fish.
In periods of rapid personal change, we pass through life as though we are spellcast. We speak in sentences that end before finishing. We sleep heavily because we need to ask so many questions as we dream alone. We bump into others and feel bashful at recognizing souls so similar to ourselves.
You must always reserve a question for people who think you are proud when you talk about your dreams! The question is "how would they get to know that you are proud if you had not talked about your dreams?" How then should people get to know what you do if you take delight in hiding yourself?
All evening long, real snow would fall from the ceiling to glitter on the lashes of dancing girls and ardent boys, but Neve and the Dreamer didn't linger. They had other things to do: *all* of them. All the things, dreamed and undreamed, in the depth and breadth of the whole spinning world.
If you're suddenly doing something you don't want to do for four years, just so you've got something to fall back on, by the time you come out you don't have that 16-year-old drive any more and you'll spend your life doing something you never wanted to do in the first place.
