#am

...It is only now that memory works both ways. Which of us dreamed it - those from the country of nights five times as warm and as cold, or those who turned away and woke? ↗

— Angele Ellis

#memory #through-the-looking-glass #dreams

‎"It almost felt like the dolphin of my heart’s desire playing in the ocean of my life." - on writing ↗

— Mariam Kobras

#dreams #novels #poetry #publishing #writing

A half-equipped little knight she was, venturing to reconnoitre the mysterious city and dreaming wild dreams of some vague, far-off supremacy... ↗

— Theodore Dreiser

#dreams

Anytime one tries to take fragments of one's personal mythology and make them understandable to the whole world, one reaches back to the past. It must be dreamed again. ↗

— Assotto Saint

#haitian-dyaspora #mythology #dreams

Jerrie Cobb reached down and pulled the heavy layers of arctic clothing over her navy blue linen dress. ↗

— Martha Ackmann

#dreams

Where do you. come from?" Frank challenged, puffing his chest, a little bolder now that he could breathe. "Some of us are starting to wonder." "I come from civilization," Lucius retorted. "You wouldn't be familiar with the territory. Now pick up the books. ↗

— Beth Fantaskey

#civilization #vampire #dating

Screw technicolor, red, and foreign languages. I dream in status updates. ↗

— Fierce Dolan

#dreams #foreign-language #status-updates #technicolor #dreams

In the strange dreams of man, there are stories that are unknowingly being built by them. Mine are among the billions that remain untold. ↗

— Brandon Benevides

#magical #philosophical #strange #wonder #dreams

there wasn't use trying to talk with a girl just because of something she'd said to me in a dream ↗

— Ross Raisin

#dreams

For feverish mornings after he left, she lay awake in that guest room in their house, in the rumples of the sheet he had slept in. She would get him on every turn: his aftershave lingering on the sides of the pillow that sometimes caught her, waking up from her dreams of him, in nuclear nights, his gaze: drenching her like water drops on burning rocks. She herself didn’t have any smell. He had to really lean in the first time to make out the attar amidst the freckles on her neck. And then there would be at least two, never only one: Jasmine and that other thing that he could never place- a smell that was between imitation pearls and the insides of a Durga Puja afternoon. On some days even in Simla, this she, would waft in by his collars nonchalantly.’ ('Left from Dhakeshwari') ↗

— Kunal Sen

#dreams