I had a dream about you last night. We moved into a cabin in the countryside. I couldn't handle the spiders. You couldn't handle my drama. I moved back to the city.
I had a dream about you last night... you were crying over spilt ink screaming "the words, the what could have been beautiful words.
Dream murderers are people who refuse to learn and optimize their own dreams. They discourage others from going ahead to make it happen. Why? Because they don't want go higher and they want everyone to be like them!
I walk across the dreaming sands under the pale moon: through the dreams of countries and cities, past dreams of places long gone and times beyond recall.
Do I dream you? Or you dream me? Or does someone, something bigger than all' - her hands swept the vast constellations above them - 'this beauteous calamity, dream everything we see and more?
They say it's a dangerous experiment to include dreams (actual dreams or otherwise) in the fiction you write. Only a handful of writers - and I'm talking the most talented - are able to pull off the irrational synthesis you find in dreams.
I never dreamed any fuckin' dream," he whispered, and the smile faded from her face as tears filled her eyes. She understood him. "Shy-" "Didn't dream it, saw it, waited my time, and then you gave it to me.
I had a dream about you. You told me my eyes were as pretty & blue as Windex. That was the nicest thing anyone had ever said to me before.
I had a dream about you. I was a cat. You were a red dot. And even those times I caught you, we couldn't touch. But still I chased you anyway.
I had a dream about you. We were riding a beam of light to the edge of the galaxy. Then my flashlight battery went dead and Stephen Hawking’s robot voice said “game over.
I had a dream about you coming up with non sequiturs. You were a purple giraffe and I was an orange rhino. But we were eating liquid skittles.
I had a dream about you, you gave me a plant and sweetly said "This will grow with our love" upon handing it over to me the plant died. I started packing.
I had a dream about you making balloon animals for kids. You were out of balloons and the kids were out of patience, so you inflated their imaginations instead.
I had a dream about you. We were trying to come up with a hashtag to market our relationship. I suggested #fourlipsonekiss and #twomouthsonevoice, but you went with something confusing like #idontloveyou and #wearenotinarelationship.
I had a dream about you painting the scene of a house fire. The clocks were melting and Salvador Dali was riding around in a clown car muttering something about irony.
Dreams are rough copies of the waking soul Yet uncorrected of the higher will, So that men sometimes in their dreams confess An unsuspected, or forgotten, self; -Since Dreaming, Madness, Passion, are akin In missing each that salutory rein Of reason,...
The wise have pitied the fool that hath striven to give a life In the world of time and space among the bulks of actual things, To dream that was dreamed in the heart, and that only the heart could hold. Oh wise men, riddle me this: What if the dream...
Of all the dreams of love that ever I have dreamed, no matter how fantastic, no matter how unbelievablely dear, no matter the shed tears, the heartfelt sadness or joy. I have found that real love is more wonderful than any dream.
It's just incredible. When you're French, coming from a non-English language country, you don't even dream about Oscar recognition or nominations. It's just beyond the dream. It's something very, very special and unique. It's the highest recognition ...
four meta-movements that separately and together are redefining the American dream: living with limits, embracing diversity, looking inward, and demanding authenticity.
And they were writing scripts where Christine had hit the glass ceiling. And I always thought Christine would never hit the glass ceiling. I thought her dreams would take her. Maybe her dreams wouldn't take her where she wanted, but she still had her...
