Dreams are illustrations from the book your soul is writing about you.
A dream is a microscope through which we look at the hidden occurrences in our soul.
A dream is a wish your heart makes, when you're fast asleep.
Dreams say what they mean, but they don't say it in daytime language.
Dreams are today's answers to tomorrow's questions.
Dreaming permits each and every one of us to be quietly and safely insane every night of our lives
Dream is not that which you see while sleeping it is something that does not let you sleep.
All men whilst they are awake are in one common world: but each of them, when he is asleep, is in a world of his own.
Be not afeard; the isle is full of noises, Sounds, and sweet airs, that give delight and hurt not. Sometimes a thousand twangling instruments Will hum about mine ears; and sometime voices, That, if I then had waked after long sleep, Will make me sleep again: and then, in dreaming, The clouds methought would open, and show riches Ready to drop upon me; that, when I waked, I cried to dream again.
The best reason for having dreams is that in dreams no reasons are necessary.
You have to dream before your dreams can come true.
You know you're in love when you can't fall asleep because reality is finally better than your dreams.
For often, when one is asleep, there is something in consciousness which declares that what then presents itself is but a dream.
We are not only less reasonable and less decent in our dreams... we are also more inteligent, wiser and capable of better judgment when we are asleep than when we are awake.
We are such stuff as dreams are made on; and our little life is rounded with a sleep.
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come.
Be not afeard; the isle is full of noises.
I think we dream so we don't have to be apart so long. If we're in each other's dreams, we can play together all night.
Insomnia is a gross feeder. It will nourish itself on any kind of thinking, including thinking about not thinking.
Those who have compared our life to a dream were right... we were sleeping wake, and waking sleep.
Sleeping is no mean art: for its sake one must stay awake all day.
Our revels now are ended. These our actors, As I foretold you, were all spirits and Are melted into air, into thin air: And, like the baseless fabric of this vision, The cloud-capp'd towers, the gorgeous palaces, The solemn temples, the great globe itself, Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve And, like this insubstantial pageant faded, Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff As dreams are made on, and our little life Is rounded with a sleep.
All the things one has forgotten scream for help in dreams.
I am accustomed to sleep and in my dreams to imagine the same things that lunatics imagine when awake.
To die: - to sleep: No more; and, by a sleep to say we end The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks That flesh is heir to, 'tis a consummation Devoutly to be wished.
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