LANGSTON HUGHES
“Harlem”

What happens to a dream deferred?

Does it dry up
like a raisin in the sun?
Or fester like a sore—
And then run?
Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over—
like a syrupy sweet?

Maybe it just sags
like a heavy load.

Or does it explode?

 

H. P. LOVECRAFT

There are not many persons who know what wonders are opened to them in the stories and visions of their youth; for when as children we learn and dream, we think but half-formed thoughts, and when as men we try to remember, we are dulled and prosaic with the poison of life. 

But some of us awake in the night with strange phantasms of enchanted hills and gardens, of fountains that sing in the sun, of golden cliffs overhanging murmuring seas, of plains that stretch down to sleeping cities of bronze and stone, and of shadowy companies of heroes that ride caparisoned white horses along the edges of thick forests; and then we know that we have looked back through the ivory gates into that world of wonder which was ours before we were wise and unhappy.

DORIS LESSING

Interview with Herbert Mitgang, “Mrs. Lessing Addresses Some of Life’s Puzzles,” The New York Times, April 22, 1984

____________________

In the writing process, the more the story cooks, the better. The brain works for you even when you are at rest. I find dreams particularly useful. I myself think a great deal before I go to sleep and the details sometimes unfold in the dream.

Currently Watching

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TEN NIGHTS OF DREAMS

[ユメ十夜]

Yoshitaka Amano

Kon Ichikawa

Akio Jissôji

Masaaki Kawahara

Suzuki Matsuo

Miwa Nishikawa

Atsushi Shimizu

Takashi Shimizu

Keisuke Toyoshima

Yudai Yamaguchi

Nobuhiro Yamashita

Japan, 2006

 

 

H. P. LOVECRAFT

There are not many persons who know what wonders are opened to them in the stories and visions of their youth; for when as children we learn and dream, we think but half-formed thoughts, and when as men we try to remember, we are dulled and prosaic with the poison of life. 

But some of us awake in the night with strange phantasms of enchanted hills and gardens, of fountains that sing in the sun, of golden cliffs overhanging murmuring seas, of plains that stretch down to sleeping cities of bronze and stone, and of shadowy companies of heroes that ride caparisoned white horses along the edges of thick forests; and then we know that we have looked back through the ivory gates into that world of wonder which was ours before we were wise and unhappy.

ANTHONY LICCIONE

____________________

Nothing like being in a dream, then waking up to a nightmare.

TESTRÖL ÈS LÈLEKRÖL

(English: OF BODY AND SOUL)

Ildikó Enyedi

Hungary, 2017