Dreams and Happiness are...drugs. And the pain that follows is not less than a sharp knife...or a sharp-nail. It bleeds without blood. You just feel it. With every sense you have got, on every single inch of earth, in every tiny part of the minute you live. It compels you to feed...yourself...
How do I recognize a real saint? Whom I shall see within me whether it is in dreams or trances or meditations, He will be the Saint to me. Because God is the only Saint in this world. He is within our bodies. When He will manifest within my body in the form of a person, he will be saint to me.
Who will you be, my Little Ones? Will you dance for the fires of your youth and run at midnight to water’s edge, diving into summer’s heat? Will you ride a wild mare to any thought or dream or love of your making? Will you seek the artistry of your own infatuations and explore . . .
Lat at nigh have you experienced a vision of the person you might become, the work you could accomplish, the realized being you were mean to be? Are you a writer who doesn't write, a painter who doesn't pain, an entrepreneur who never starts a venture? Then you know what Resistance is.
I had a dream about you. You were wearing a spaghetti strainer as a helmet, and I said, “I demand you take my fishbowl off your head at once.” But the truth is it didn’t matter, because my fish had dried up and died weeks ago. That’s kind of like how love works, no?
gratitudenoun ˈgra-tə-ˌtüd, -ˌtyüd 1. The word thrown in your face by people who covet what you want and believe that your lack of contentment is a sin. Often, these people believe success is what you have already and obtaining anything else is optional, but not required.
Shelves full of books are all around me. Opening the different volumes I take a look, and find the pages covered with writings in unknown scripts — tadpole traces, bird feet markings, twisted branches. And in my dream I am able to read them all, to make sense of everything despite its difficulty.
I had a dream about you. You took a cruise, and I took a canoe. I paddled alongside your ship out into the Atlantic Ocean and down to the Caribbean. I shouted “I love you” the whole way, but you couldn’t hear me, probably because that man you were with was talking the whole time.
Mi propio mundo, uno que es caleidoscopio, alucinada dimensión del sueño, morada de la musaraña. El otro (el dominio de la realidad), llego a mi a través de los hombres. Ellos fueron mis portavoces, mis guías y a la vez mis obstáculos, mis tormentos y matarratos.
And sometimes, and only in spring,a dove from the river's soft vale of lilieswill fly as close to you as trust,and a calm in the great reds of autumnwill, as often as you need, lie downbeside you, raising a brow you've knownabove the eyes of the only womanyou will ever have a need to dream or touch.
But now that I can see it all as from a lonely hilltop, I know it was the story of a mighty vision given to a man too weak to use it; of a holy tree that should have flourished in a people’s heart with flowers and singing birds, and now is withered; and of a people’s dream that died in bloody snow.
The unknown grayish mystifying forest was benumbed into frost-covered cold, and the tremendous pines towering above the dark marshy soil resembled a gathering of severe mute brothers from a forbidden ancient order worshiping forgotten gods no one had ever heard of outside of the world of secret occult visions.
I had a dream about you. I was a sleeping bag salesman, and you sold insomnia. I tried talking you into selling sex instead, because that way we could sell combo packages. But you said no, because you didn’t want to infringe on your grandma’s sales numbers, because that’s what she sold.
Dream is the personalized myth, myth the depersonalized dream; both myth and dream are symbolic in the same general way of the dynamic of the psyche. But in the dream the forms are quirked by the peculiar troubles of the dreamer, whereas in myth the problems and solutions sown are directly valid for all mankind
Produce your own dream. If you want to save Peru, go save Peru. It’s quite possible to do anything, but not if you put it on the leaders and the parking meters. Don’t expect Carter or Reagan or John Lennon or Yoko Ono or Bob Dylan or Jesus Christ to come and do it for you. You have to do it yourself.
