450 Dreams Quotes

Whereas Freud was for the most part concerned with the morbid effects of unconscious repression, Jung was more interested in the manifestations of unconscious expression, first in the dream and eventually in all the more orderly products of religion and art and morals.

Nothing but a speck we seem In the waste of waters round, Floating, floating like a dream, - Outward bound.

I experience a period of frightening clarity in those moments when nature is so beautiful. I am no longer sure of myself, and the paintings appear as in a dream.

Dreams grow holy put in action; work grows fair through starry dreaming, But where each flows on unmingling, both are fruitless and in vain.

I had this rare privilege of being able to pursue in my adult life, what had been my childhood dream.

People's dreams are made out of what they do all day. The same way a dog that runs after rabbits will dream of rabbits. It's what you do that makes your soul, not the other way around.

It seems beyond the comprehension of people that someone can be born to draw comic strips, but I think I was. My ambition from earliest memory was to produce a daily comic strip.

I always wanted to be a rock star. That was my childhood dream. That's what I told everybody I was going to be when I grew up.

So many of our dreams at first seem impossible, then they seem improbable, and then, when we summon the will, they soon become inevitable.

In the writing process, the more the story cooks, the better. The brain works for you even when you are at rest. I find dreams particularly useful. I myself think a great deal before I go to sleep and the details sometimes unfold in the dream.

I am a lucky man. I have had a dream and it has come true, and that is not a thing that happens often to men.

The explorers of the past were great men and we should honour them. But let us not forget that their spirit lives on. It is still not hard to find a man who will adventure for the sake of a dream or one who will search, for the pleasure of searching, not for what he may find.

Language is the memory of man. Without it he has no past, a paltry present, and an empty future. With it he can bring his dreams to life.

Both dreams and myths are important communications from ourselves to ourselves. If we do not understand the language in which they are written, we miss a great deal of what we know and tell ourselves in those hours when we are not busy manipulating the outside world.

We all dream; we do not understand our dreams, yet we act as if nothing strange goes on in our sleep minds, strange at least by comparison with the logical, purposeful doings of our minds when we are awake.

True poetry is a function of awakening. It awakens us, but it must retain the memory of previous dreams.

If I were asked to name the chief benefit of the house, I should say: the house shelters day-dreaming, the house protects the dreamer, the house allows one to dream in peace.

A word is a bud attempting to become a twig. How can one not dream while writing? It is the pen which dreams. The blank page gives the right to dream.

Reverie is not a mind vacuum. It is rather the gift of an hour which knows the plenitude of the soul.

The repose of sleep refreshes only the body. It rarely sets the soul at rest. The repose of the night does not belong to us. It is not the possession of our being. Sleep opens within us an inn for phantoms. In the morning we must sweep out the shadows.

When I sleep I sleep and do not dream because it is as well that I am what I seem when I am in my bed and dream.

A novel is what you dream in your night sleep. A novel is not waking thoughts although it is written and thought with waking thoughts. But really a novel goes as dreams go in sleeping at night and some dreams are like anything and some dreams are like something and some dreams change and some dreams are quiet and some dreams are not. And some dreams are just what any one would do only a little different always just a little different and that is what a novel is.

You know I need a dream Like I need my breath We need to take the life Before we get the death You know I need your love Like I need the light Yes I need the chance Can it be tonight?

Why were the little girls all frightened To be just what they are The boys were told to ask themselves How high how far The girls were told to reach the shelves While the boys were reaching stars That's why little girls were frightened To be just what they are.

She was married for seven years to a concrete castle king. She said she wanted to learn to play the guitar and to hear her children sing. So I'd show up about once a week in my faded tight-legged jeans with a backlog full of hobo stories and dilapidated dreams.

He was dancing to some music No one else had ever heard He'd speak in unknown languages She would translate every word And then when the world was laughing At his castles in the sky She'd hold him in her body Till he once again could fly.

Hamlet is every man's self-love with all its dreams realized. He wears all the crowns and carries every cross.

Whatever doesn't really happen is dreamed at night. It happens to one if it doesn't happen to another, tomorrow if not today, or a century hence if not next year.

All human beings are also dream beings. Dreaming ties all mankind together.

The key to happiness is having dreams; the key to success is making them come true.

Some men enjoy the constant strife Of days with work and worry rife, But that is not my dream of life: I think such men are crazy. For me, a life with worries few, A job of nothing much to do, Just pelf enough to see me through: I fear that I am lazy.

I dreamed night after night that everyone in the world was dead excepting myself, and that upon me rested the responsibility of making a wagon wheel.

What outcries pluck me from my naked bed And chill my throbbing heart with trembling fear.

There's a bower of roses by Bendemeer's stream, And the nightingale sings round it all the day long; In the time of my childhood 'twas like a sweet dream, To sit in the roses and hear the bird's song.

Well she was an American girl, raised on promises. She couldn't help thinkin' that there was a little more to life somewhere else. After all, it was a great big world with lots of places to run to. Yeah, and if she had to die tryin', she had one little promise she was gonna keep.

Yeah runnin' down a dream that never would come to me. Workin' on a mystery, goin' wherever it leads. I'm runnin' down a dream.

Yeah I'll be king when dogs get wings. Can I help it if I still dream time to time? It's good to be king and have your own world. It helps to make friends, it's good to meet girls. A sweet little queen who can't run away. It's good to be king, whatever it pays.

You follow your feelings, you follow your dreams. You follow the leader into the trees. And what's in there waiting, neither one of us knows, you gotta keep one eye open the further you go.

We're overdue for a dream come true. Long time nothing new. We're overdue for a dream come true.

And you may think it's all over, but there'll be more just like me. Who won't give in, who'll rise again. Can't stop and man from dreaming on and on and on.

She's got nothing to hide, and she hides it so well. Keeps broken dreams to fix up and sell.

By the winding stream we shall lie and dream We'll make dreams come true if we want them to Yes all will come play the pipes and drum Sing a happy song and we'll sing along.

There's a dream where the contents are visible Where the poetic champions compose Will you breathe not a word of this secrecy, and Will you still be my special rose?

The dreamer sometimes falls into the doldrums, but is said to emerge from them again. And the absent-minded person also makes up for it with bouts of perspicacity. Sometimes he is a person whose right to exist has a justification that is not always immediately obvious to you, or more usually, you may absent-mindedly allow it to slip from your mind. Someone who has been wandering about for a long time, tossed to and fro on a stormy sea, will in the end reach his destination. Someone who has seemed to be good for nothing, unable to fill any job, any appointment, will find one in the end and, energetic and capable, will prove himself quite different from what he seemed at first.

The swarm of thoughts, the swarm of dreams Of inaccessible Utopia. A mountainous music always seemed To be falling and to be passing away.

Eye without lid, mind without any dream - These are of minstrels lacking minstrelsy, Of an earth in which the first leaf is the tale Of leaves, in which the sparrow is a bird Of stone, that never changes. Bethou him, you And you, bethou him and bethou. It is A sound like any other. It will end.

I know that one day Veronica and I are gonna get married on top of a mountain, and there's going to be flutes playing and trombones and flowers and garlands of fresh herbs. And we will dance till the sun rises. And then our children will form a family band. And we will tour the countryside, and you won't be invited.

Dream after dream ensues; And still they dream that they shall still succeed; And still are disappointed.

One day, back there in the good old days when I was nine and the world was full of every kind of magnificence, and life was still a delightful and mysterious dream, my cousin Mourad, who was considered crazy by everybody who knew him except me, came to my house at four in the morning and woke me up by tapping on the window of my room. 'Aram,' he said. I jumped out of bed and looked out the window. I couldn't believe what I saw. It wasn't morning yet, but it was summer and with daybreak not many minutes around the corner of the world it was light enough for me to know I wasn't dreaming. My cousin Mourad was sitting on a beautiful white horse.

Across the silent stream Where the dream-shadows go, From the dim blue Hill of Dream I have heard the west wind blow.

Ah, the strange, sweet, lonely delight Of the Valleys of Dream.

The Rock has dream, has a dream that he's winning the Royal Rumble, going on to Wrestlemania and from coast to coast, Wisconsin to China, and back to Wisconsin! Sea to shining sea, The Rock one more time on top of the mountaintop, WWF Champion! And you see just like Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr had a dream, well we all have dreams, but there has been one dream that has become a reality to The Rock, one dream thats becoming true to The Rock. Day after day, night after night, 24 hours a day,.... 7 days a week, 365 days a year, and that one dream is The Rock forever whipping ass, whipping ass....Thank God Almighty, The Rock is whipping ass! If ya smell....what The Rock is cooking!

Duluth! The word fell upon my ear with a peculiar and indescribable charm, like the gentle murmur of a low fountain stealing forth in the midst of roses, or the soft sweet accent of an angel's whisper in the bright, joyous dream of sleeping innocence. 'T was the name for which my soul had panted for years, as the hart panteth for the water-brooks.

Upon the brink of the wild stream He stood, and dreamt a mighty dream.

For milkmaids and queens and gipsy-princesses Dream and kiss blindfold or starve upon guesses.

I still dream about Kurt. Every time I see him in a dream, I'll be amazed and I get this feeling that everyone else thinks he's dead. It always feels totally real, probably because I'm a very vivid dreamer. But, in my dreams, Kurt's usually been hiding - we'll get together and I'll end up asking him, 'God, where have you been?'

'This is her life long dream.' Bob Jamieson, president of RCA

the octopus's secret wish is not to be a formal fish he dreams that some time he may grow another set of legs or so and be a broadway music show

Dreams - are well - but Waking's better, If One wake at Morn - If One wake at Midnight - better - Dreaming - of the Dawn -

A clear day's warmth will often move / A lass to stray in dreams of love

Of our studies it is impossible to speak, since they held so slight a connection with anything of the world as living men conceive it. They were of that vaster and more appalling universe of dim entity and consciousness which lies deeper than matter, time, and space, and whose existence we suspect only in certain forms of sleep - those rare dreams beyond dreams which come never to common men, and but once or twice in the lifetime of imaginative men. The cosmos of our waking knowledge, born from such an universe as a bubble is born from the pipe of a jester, touches it only as such a bubble may touch its sardonic source when sucked back by the jester's whim. Men of learning suspect it little and ignore it mostly. Wise men have interpreted dreams, and the gods have laughed. One man with Oriental eyes has said that all time and space are relative, and men have laughed. But even that man with Oriental eyes has done no more than suspect....

Somebody said...Where are the dreamers Somebody said...Dead Somebody said...Here comes the holy rollers Tryin' to sell us all the screamers instead.

Hillary Clinton said that her childhood dream was to be an Olympic athlete. But she was not athletic enough. She said she wanted to be an astronaut, but at the time they didn't take women. She said she wanted to go into medicine, but hospitals made her woozy. Should she be telling people this story? I

Let's swim to the moon, uh huh Let's climb through the tide Penetrate the evenin' that the City sleeps to hide

Somewhere in between The waxing and the waning wave Somewhere in between What the song and the silence says Somewhere in between The ticking and the tocking clock Somewhere in a dream between Sleep and waking up Somewhere in between Breathing out and breathing in Like twilight is neither night nor morning

This is a really terrible dream, and I really ought to wake up and end it. And so I did

When she wakes up in the morning She writes down all her dreams Reads like the Book of Revelations Or the Beano or the unabridged Ulysses Oh, I really wanna know So tell me, Where does all the money go? Where does all the money go? Straight, straight up her nose

What did I dream? Oh, what did I dream? No one can keep me from my... No one could keep me from my... No fucker gonna keep me from my... Oh, what did I dream?

I am standing up at the water's edge in my dream I cannot make a single sound as you scream

A dream is by definition a series of sensations that occur in the brain when both our senses of perception and our powers of will and reason are in abeyance, so that we have no control over that flux of sensations. But it is, of course, a well-known phenomenon that when we dream that we are dreaming, the dream ends and we awaken. Then the conscious mind takes over and we are again responsible for our thoughts, and must face a day in which we must be responsible for our actions, which, by their wisdom or folly, may determine the rest of our lives. Our dreams may give expression, pleasant or painful, to our subconscious desires or fears. But in our waking hours we must, if we are rational, make our decisions on the basis of the most objective and cold-blooded estimates that we can make: estimates of the forces and tendencies in the world about us; estimates of the realities with which we must deal; remembering always that nothing is likely to happen just because we think it's good, or unlikely to happen just because we think it's evil.

Mercy is for the weak when I speak I scream/Afraid to sleep in havin' of crazy dreams

Hopin you listenin, catch you payin attention/to my ambitions as a ridah

I'm seein nuttin but my dreams comin true/While I'm starin at the world through my rearview

It was wonderful to find America, but it would have been more wonderful to miss it.

You are not wrong, who deem That my days have been a dream; Yet if hope has flown away In a night, or in a day, In a vision, or in none, Is it therefore the less gone? All that we see or seem Is but a dream within a dream.

The future belongs to those who believe in the beauty of their dreams.

Whereas Freud was for the most part concerned with the morbid effects of unconscious repression, Jung was more interested in the manifestations of unconscious expression, first in the dream and eventually in all the more orderly products of religion and art and morals.

It is also possible within this lifetime to enhance the power of the mind, enabling one to reaccess memories from previous lives. Such recollection tends to be more accessible during meditative experiences in the dream state. Once one has accessed memories of previous lives in the dream state, one gradually recalls them in the waking state.

All our dreams can come true - if we have the courage to pursue them.

'For it must needs that offences come, but woe to him through whom the offence cometh.' The crimes of the future are the harvests sown of the ruling classes of the present. Woe to the tyrant who shall cause the offense! Sometimes I dream of this social change. I get a streak of faith in Evolution, and the good in man. I paint a gradual slipping out of the now, to that beautiful then, where there are neither kings, presidents, landlords, national bankers, stockbrokers, railroad magnates, patentright monopolists, or tax and title collectors; where there are no over-stocked markets or hungry children, idle counters and naked creatures, splendor and misery, waste and need. I am told this is farfetched idealism, to paint this happy, povertyless, crimeless, diseaseless world; I have been told I 'ought to be behind the bars' for it. Remarks of that kind rather destroy the white streak of faith. I lose confidence in the slipping process, and am forced to believe that the rulers of the earth are sowing a fearful wind, to reap a most terrible whirlwind. When I look at this poor, bleeding, wounded World, this world that has suffered so long, struggled so much, been scourged so fiercely, thorn-pierced so deeply, crucified so cruelly, I can only shake my head and remember:

There are those that look at things the way they are, and ask why? I dream of things that never were, and ask why not?

Cloud cuckoo land

When your dreams tire, they go underground and out of kindness that's where they stay.

'Always follow your dreams; don't let anyone tell you that you can't be something.'

The principle of equality does not destroy the imagination, but lowers its flight to the level of the earth.

But then to wake and find it flown, The dream of happiness destroyed, To find myself unloved, alone, What tongue can speak the dreary void? A heart whence warm affections flow, Creator, thou hast given to me, And am I only thus to know How sweet the joys of love would be?

Into a slumber then I fell, When fond imagination Seemed to see, but could not tell Her feature or her fashion.

I now spend a good part of my day dreaming of times past, present and future. As I try to survive on 15 hours sleep a day, I have plenty of time to enjoy vivid dreams. Being completely wheel-chaired doesn't stop my mind from roaming the universe - on the contrary!

In my time I've been very fortunate to see many of my dreams come true! Growing up in the 1920s and 1930s, I never expected to see so much happen in the span of a few decades. We 'space cadets' of the British Interplanetary Society spent all our spare time discussing space travel - but we didn't imagine that it lay in our own near future: I still can't quite believe that we've just marked the 50th anniversary of the Space Age! We've accomplished a great deal in that time, but the 'Golden Age of Space' is only just beginning. Over the next 50 years, thousands of people will travel to Earth orbit - and then, to the Moon and beyond. Space travel - and space tourism - will one day become almost as commonplace as flying to exotic destinations on our own planet.

I heard the sighing of the reeds At noontide and at evening, And some old dream I had forgotten I seemed to be remembering.

There is only one dream worth having...to live while you are alive, and die only when you are dead.

We are now synergetically forced to conclude that all phenomena are metaphysical; wherefore, as many have long suspected - like it or not - 'life is but a dream.'