For a long time, I've had a recurring dream - I dream I don't have to write any more, that I'm free. I'm not free, alas; I'm still clearing the same terrain, with the impression that it's never finished.
Sentiment: NEGATIVE
My dreams were all my own; I accounted for them to nobody; they were my refuge when annoyed - my dearest pleasure when free.
I've had quite a lot of luck with dreams. I've often awoken in the night with a phrase or even a whole song in my head.
My dream life is just to go back to my job full-time. And be with my family. You know, regular dreams, common dreams that everyone has.
I dream a lot, in colour and in sound and scent. Quite a few of my stories have come from dreams.
I dream for a living. Once a month the sky falls on my head, I come to, and I see another movie I want to make.
Everyone has their dreams. I don't write my dreams down; they just live inside of me.
No, I never had any dreams. The process of art is a dream in itself. The artist just doesn't... you work out something. It's yours. You don't have to go to sleep to do that. You do that on the canvas.
I'm a really hectic dreamer; I never wake up not out of a dream, and there's loads going on, lots of action, big blockbuster dreams, they're all major enterprises.
I can't remember any dreams in my life. There's so much strange in real life that it often seems like a dream.
Every little thing I've done so far has been a dream of mine, and I've been able to accomplish it. It's still a dream every day.