At the end of the day when the sun falls a willing prisoner of the night...and humans males and females alike become submitted to the mistress of the dark my mind begins to wander and wonder. Looking upwards at a blank slate of concrete the psyque expresses freely what my subconscious is afraid to give free rein. And there and then between the play of reality and dreamland I find my place. I find myself.

Id been so fascinated by the motion that Id forgotten to measure what it was bringing forth. Id been asleep dreaming.

Coming true is not the only purpose of a dream. Its most important purpose is to get us in touch with where dreams come from where passion comes from where happiness comes from. Even a shattered dream can do that for you.

The woods do that to you they always look familiar long lost like the face of a long-dead relative like an old dream like a piece of forgotten song drifting across the water most of all like golden eternities of past childhood or past manhood and all the living and the dying and the heartbreakthat went on a million years ago and the clouds as they pass overhead seem to testifyby their own lonesome familiarity to this feeling.Taip bna mikuose jie visada atrodo pastami kadai prarasti ibluk lyg seniai mirusio giminaiio veidas tartum sena svajon tarsi nuotrupa pamirtos dainos plaukianios vir vandens o labiau u visk - tarsi auksins prajusios vaikysts aminybs ar prejusios brandos ir visa kas gyva visa kas mir visa irdgla itikusi prie milijon met ir debesys plaukiantys tau vir galvos liudija savo vieniu artimumu jausm.

10.Never allow your imagination to stop. It was the imagination of great people that brought us the internet the pyramids cars airplanes boats great novels beautiful painting classical songs great movies water irrigation solar panels the statue of liberty the wall of china and so forth. Never under estimate your imagination.

But are not the dreams of poets and the tales of travellers notoriously false

Mai tii minte cat visai Mai visezi

I know who the real hero is and it isnt me or brave Lanaya. Its an old man with a white beard and a walking stick and a heart so big it wont let him stop thinking he can change the world by writing down things in a book no one will ever read.

The you that you think of as you and that thinks of you as you and so on is not you its just the character that the underlying truth of you is dreaming into existence. Enlightenment isnt in the character its in the underlying truth.

From dreams of bliss shall men awakeone day but not to weepthe dreams remain they only breakthe mirror of their sleep.