I had a dream about you. I sat at your table of brotherhood and asked why you invited so many strangers. You laughed and passed me the bread bowl. But the guest in-between us took the last roll before it reached me.

He who has the audacity to stop you from dreaming is he who had given you the imaginations to think but not those who watch you as you explore the dreams

I had a dream about you. We were in a canoe and we were paddling across the desert. You said you were thirsty and I pointed to the sand that surrounded us and said No I will not urinate in your mouth. At that point I woke up because I realized I really had to peeand get a drink of water.

I had a dream about you. You had just died and I was debating putting your body into either a coffin or a shoebox. My decision was based solely on spatial concerns so I chose the ashtray because I thought it best to smoke your essence like a cigarette.

I had a dream about you. At first you were a mannequin and I was a fashion designer. Then inexplicably we switched roles and I became the mannequin. But instead of putting clothes on me you laughed at my nakedness and you sold me to the owner of a sex shop.

Yet the stupid believe they are awake busily and brightly assuming they understand things calling this man ruler that one herdsman how dense Confucius and you are both dreaming And when I say you are dreaming I am dreaming too. Words like these will be labeled the Supreme Swindle.

I had a dream about you. You told me you loved me and then you stabbed me with a spoon. Luckily moments before your attack I assumed the identity of a bowl of Jell-O. Later on in the dream as a half-eaten bowl of Jell-O I launched a successful political campaign got elected and moved to Washington DC.

Its not like I planned it. I never woke up from some rosy dream and said Okay world today Im gonna spaz.

I had a dream about you. You were a lone candle on a barren vanilla cake and I was the mighty breath sent to extinguish your light. I felt like Gods wrath coming down to destroy the Illuminati while you probably thought I was the Satan coming to snuff out the light of the world. And the spectators who were gathered around the spectacle probably thought it was all one big party as they stood still like mindless zombies singing Happy Birthday.

Men speak of dreaming as if it were a phenomenon of night and sleep. They should know better. All results achieved by us are self-promised and all self-promises are made in dreams awake. Dreaming is the relief of laborthe wine that sustains us in act. We learn to love labor not for itself but for the opportunity it furnishes for dreaming which is the great under-monotone of real life unheard unnoticed because of its constancy. Living is dreaming. Only in the graves are there no dreams.