I had a dream about you. You started following me on Twitter and then you started following me around town. I wouldnt mind so much of you would start throwing your hashtags away rather than tossing them into the street.

Some dreams matter illuminate a crucial choice or reveal some intuition thats trying to push its way to the surface. Other though are detritus the residue of the day reassembling itself in some disjointed and chaotic way ... Frantic dreams they left me tired and I woke grouchy to another rainy day the sky so densely gray and the rain so thick that I couldnt that I couldnt see the opposite shore p 166

Ever have a dream so real you felt you could reach out and touch it

I had a dream about you. You were cooking me dinner and I was standing by the stove questioning your every move. You found me ungrateful and I found the number for Chinese takeout. I may not have wanted your food but I still wanted your love. Your love isnt burnt too is it

If I woke up one morning and realized that all I ever was going to be was a business man Id probably die. All my dreams would be shattered. Early in life I had many dreams. I dreamed of being a great basketball star. I dreamed of being a preacher. I dreamed of saving the world from war and racism. And I dreamed of being a great poet. Today I dream only of writing.

But no-one came here to live an ordinary life. Despite what our somnambulistic mythless society society tells us a place stuffed to the gilders with unawake unthinking folk ruled by shoulds oughts and have-tos people who have no understanding of themselves individuals afraid to acknowledge let alone live their dreams you came here to weave your unique essence and vision into the world thus rendering it magnificent both for yourself and others.

The lights of prayer that make us imagine we are beginning to be angels are sometimes only signs that we are finally beginning to be men. We do not have a high enough opinion of our own nature. We think we are at the gates of heaven and we are only just beginning to come into our own realm as free and intelligent beings.

I had a dream about you. You were selling nickels for seven cents apiece and I was only willing to pay six. Grandma thought I was foolish but what did I careshe was dead Its like my grandpa always used to say I want to bill Billings one penny at a time. He died with five cents to his name. I was named after himfifty years after him.

Faith is the poetry of our dreams action is the builder of our reality.

Yet I never sought what is real yearned for the real but rather I have yearned for dreams more than solid things. I can say I love the textures of dreams. The way they hover and almost taste. The clouds and darkness that linger behind mostly unseen. And the palette of dreams. You can almost taste the colours they seem as words on the tip of the tongue unsayable as pomegranate seeds unsayable as thick cream the darkness of such a thick cream. This is why I am obsessed with dreams. They know what we cannot. Night after night they try and tell us the impossible. Dreams are secret and closed and also contain everything gushing splayed open. Dream suitcases carpetbags hold-alls. They influence us secretly and they draw me to travel to nowhere to beautys passage through halls of mirrors where I know I am not myself I know I am sublime.