dreaming

Reveries of idealization develop, not by letting oneself be taken in by memories, but by constantly dreaming the values of a being whom one would love. And that is the way a great dreamer dreams his double. His magnified double sustains him." - Gaston Bachelard, "Reveries on Reverie (Anima - Animus)", The Poetics of Reverie: Childhood, Language, and the Cosmos, Page 88

We were fighting about nothing important while dreaming of the same things.

The worst part about dreaming? You have to wake up.

I don__ miss anyone. If I did I would do something about it. Besides, some people come back...in dreams. That__ when they__e honest.

He had read much of things as they are, and talked with too many people. Well-meaning philosophers had taught him to look into the logical relations of things, and analyse the processes which shaped his thoughts and fancies. Wonder had gone away, and he had forgotten that all life is only a set of pictures in the brain, among which there is no difference betwixt those born of real things and those born of inward dreamings, and no cause to value the one above the other.

If you never dream of flying, then you'll never wake up with wings.

The Dream of a Queer Fellow I write the words again and they appear doubly pregnant with meaning. It is a true and terrible phrase : true, because we are all queer fellows dreaming ; and we are queer just because we dream ; terrible, because of the vastness of the unknown which it carries within itself, because it sets loose the tremendous and awful question : What if we are only queer fellows dreaming ? What if behind the veil the truth is leering and jeering at our queerness and our dreams? What if the queer fellow of the story were right, before he dreamed ? What if it were really all the same?What if it were all the same not once but a million times, life after life, world after world, the same pain, the same doubt, the same dreams? The queer fellow went but one day's journey along the eternal recurrence which threatens human minds and human destinies. When he returned he was queer. There was another man went the same journey. Friedrich Nietzsche dreamed this very dream in the mountains of the Engadine. When he returned he too was queer.

Never apologize for who you are and what you do and more especially never apologize for dreaming big even if they don__ come true. Many will criticize you and call you names but hey it__ your life, it__ your dream. Make it happen.

Unlike any other form of thought, daydreaming is its own reward.

A man who sits under a tree and dreams makes more journey than a man who goes around the world without dreaming!

I had a dream about you last night. Our vices had wings and our fears could breathe fire. There was nowhere to hide and we were trapped alive. So you reached for your sword and slashed my arm, waking me and saving my life.

It's good to dream. We can't out-give God. We can't out-love him, and we can't out-dream him.

I dream, sometimes I think that's the only right thing to do.

Dreaming permits each and everyone of us to be quietly insane every night of out lives.

I had a dream about you. We were married and I walked into the room to see you in my new black dress and high heels and I said "That's not what I meant when I said I bought them for you".

I hesitate in everything, often without knowing why. How often I've sought _ as my own version of the straight line, seeing it in my mind as the ideal straight line _ the longest distance between two points. I've never had a knack for the active life. I've always taken wrong steps that no one else takes; I've always had to make an effort to do what comes naturally to other people. I've always wanted to achieve what others have achieved almost without wanting it. Between me and life there were always sheets of frosted glass that I couldn't tell were there by sight or by touch; I didn't live that life or that dimension. I was the daydream of what I wanted to be, and my dreaming began in my will: my goals were always the first fiction of what I never was.

Oh, to awake from dreaming!

She is always pretending she loves me, but look at her now. Am I in her thoughts? Is there a tender look in her eyes? Is she dreaming of me as she walks along the streets?