We are such stuff as dreams are made on; and our little life is rounded with a sleep.
Sentiment: NEGATIVE
Gradually it occurred to me that we spend a great deal of life asleep and that dreams are little narratives, little stories. I thought, 'Who's choreographing this stuff?'
We live because of the dreams.
We are near waking when we dream we are dreaming.
Those who have compared our life to a dream were right... we were sleeping wake, and waking sleep.
We control the content of our dreams.
We learn much during our sleep, and the knowledge thus gained slowly filters into the physical brain, and is occasionally impressed upon it as a vivid and illuminative dream.
Our dreams are firsthand creations, rather than residues of waking life. We have the capacity for infinite creativity; at least while dreaming, we partake of the power of the Spirit, the infinite Godhead that creates the cosmos.
Dreams are the expression of the unconscious while we are asleep.
We sleep, but the loom of life never stops, and the pattern which was weaving when the sun went down is weaving when it comes up in the morning.
I think there must be a place inside of us where dreams go and wait their turn.
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