I had a dream about you. We were ice fishing in my freezer. I caught a few cold beers and you wondered if we should drink them or throw them back because they were babies.

Where do you get dreams like this

On DreamsOnly one thing supersedes the importance of thinking about a better tomorrow. Its taking action today.

Dreaming is another form of thinking more concrete more economical more visual and often more emotional than the thoughts of the day but a thinking through of the day nevertheless.

I had a dream about you. We were both in the finals at the World Cuddling Championships and my partner was my cat Capn The Sweetness Kintz and yours was a Teddy Bear named Teddy. While Teddys body could be manipulated in ways that would earn you style points with the judges he was lacking the personality of a person which The Sweetness certainly has. In the end we won partly because we were better cuddlers but mostly because I bribed the judges.

If we write our dreams and goals down we dramatically increase our odds of realization. If we share them with others they become potent and alive.

I had dreamed of something so different from what reality was now offering up but that dream had been a blind mans vision. That dream was a miracle. The morning was fading. And I remembered yet again that I was a tourist here.

She entered the story knowing she would emerge from it feeling she had been immersed in the lives of others in plots that stretched back twenty years her body full of sentences and moments as if awaking from sleep with a heaviness caused by unremembered dreams.

Can you understand your own dreams which arise with mushrooms rank richness in the night-forests within your skull

And eventually in that house where everyone even the fugitive hiding in the cellar from his faceless enemies finds his tongue cleaving dryly to the roof of his mouth where even the sons of the house have to go into the cornfield with the rickshaw boy to joke about whores and compare the length of their members and whisper furtively about dreams of being film directors Hanifs dream which horrifies his dream-invading mother who believes the cinema to be an extension of the brothel business where life has been transmuted into grotesquery by the irruption into it of history eventually in the murkiness of the underworld he cannot help himself he finds his eyes straying upwards up along delicate sandals and baggy pajamas and past loose kurta and above the dupatta the cloth of modesty until eyes meet eyes and then