Intuition is an omnipotent wonder, for it is not bound by the bands of time or space. When we are tune with it, it is a guiding light that can bring our dreams within reach and give us the direction we need to find our way home, when lose our way in this world. It is a precious gift in the spiritual toolbox of life, that we can give to ourselves and others. I can't imagine existing without it.
I had a dream about you. I asked you to dance, and you said you already had a partner. That was when I noticed you were embracing a mannequin, and I felt my face get flushed and I felt flustered. It’s embarrassing when a mannequin is a better dancer than you, but at least I was more agile than my grandpa, who was making a fool of himself in the bathroom as he tried to tango with a urinal.
Less than twenty-four hours ago, I had a family and a home and a dreamworld I thought was as close to heaven as you could get without dying.I have none of that now.My brother is dead. My parents threw me out of the house—again—with barely enough to fill a small suitcase. And my dreamworld? I was right when I figured that, if God ever did exist, he turned his back on humanity centuries ago.
By embracing your subconscious, you gain a different way of seeing and experiencing—an expanded perception that opens a doorway, not only to lucid dreams, but also to the mythic dimension. As in lucid dreams, you see yourself or others with new eyes; your senses awaken and grasp an experience more fully than ever before; suddenly, you find your ears are open to hear with a deeper understanding.
I had a dream about you. You were using a shovel as it was intended to be used, and I asked you what you were doing. You replied, “Digging a six-foot hole.” I said, “Ah, are you digging a grave for our love?” And you replied, “No, I’m digging a grave for you.” It was at this point that I unsheathed Chuck Norris’ right arm and sliced you with a karate chop.
I had a dream about you. You were the lead guitarist in a band with no voice, and you were holding auditions for lead singer. Everybody in line in front of me and behind me was a mime, so I felt confident I’d get the gig. I felt my performance was excellent, like Axl Rose meets Rosie O’Donnell, but no, you felt a person who sings in silence would make a better front man for your band.
the dream had come again, like the sun after a storm. It was the same dream that had come many times before, battering down the doors of my mind night after night since i was a child. it was the sort of dreams all girls dream, i suppose- a dream of mysterious worlds and hidden doorways, of leaves that breathe and make music when they are rustled in the wind, and river that bubbles and froth with secrets.
I had a dream about you. Too many people died that night to count. Still, I had to provide the Minister of Numbers with a rough estimate. The number I told him was two, and that number may be off by one or two people. In the dream, nobody could find my in-laws, who may have been on vacation, or they may have been viciously murdered, depending on who you ask and what you saw. Say, what did you see?
Seen from inside the bar, the avenue, the stores opposite, the street glimpsed going off at right angles, the trapezoid of sky visible above the lower buildings, are altered by the tinted windows into an elsewhere, oddly peaceful, a desert or the interior of the sea. Sometimes when he has fallen asleep face upward in the sun, his dreams have taken on this quality of supernatural bright darkness. ("Novelty")
My dreams are going through their death flurries. I thought they were all safely buried, but sometimes they stir in their grave, making my heartstrings twinge. I mean no particular dream, you understand, but the whole radiant flock of them together—with their rainbow wings, iridescent, bright, soaring, glorious, sublime. They are dying before the steel javelins and arrows of a world of Time and Money.
The most remarkable thing about a man's dreams is that they will all come true; this has always been the case, though no one would care to admit it. And a peculiarity of man's behaviour is that he is not in the least surprised when his dreams come true; it is as if he expected nothing else. The goal to be reached and the determination to reach it are brother and sister, and slumber in the same heart.
Los Angeles was the kind of place where everybody was from somewhere else and nobody really droppped anchor. It was a transient place. People drawn by the dream, people running from the nightmare. Twelve million people and all of them ready to make a break for it if necessary. Figuratively, literally, metaphorically -- any way you want to look at it -- everbody in L.A. keeps a bag packed. Just in case.
They have cast my life like dice, in a game that is not a game. The unusual erupted into my life like a storm; I mean unusual in my actual perception of things. Do not mistake me; I never desired things that are certainly harder to bear, and nobody asked me if I really wanted an extraordinary life. That is not entirely true; I was asked, in the way a child seeing a cake is asked if he really wants to eat it.
I have always considered imaginative truth to be more profound, more loaded with significance, than every day reality... Everything we dream about, and by that I mean everything we desire, is true (the myth of Icarus came before aviation, and if Ader or Bleriot started flying it is because all men have dreamed of flight). There is nothing truer than myth... Reality does not have to be: it is simply what is.
I think about this, not like someone thinking, but like someone breathing,And I look at flowers and I smile...I don’t know if they understand meOr if I understand them,But I know the truth is in them and in meAnd in our common divinityOf letting ourselves go and live on the EarthAnd carrying us in our arms through the contented SeasonsAnd letting the wind sing us to sleepAnd not have dreams in our sleep.
