"My Love"

Given time his dreams might have come true, and he might have found himself with the woman he loved, but the road was too long and it brought him nowhere.

-from "My Love," by Ludmilla Petrushevskaya; translated by Keith Gessen & Anna Summers, from the collection of stories, There Once Lived a Woman Who Tried to Kill Her Neighbor's Baby

Stuff Your Eyes with Wonder

"Stuff your eyes with wonder,' he said, 'live as if you'd drop dead in ten seconds. See the world. It's more fantastic than any dream made or paid for in factories..." -Granger, Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury

The Meaning of Life

Perhaps you have seen those little gift books, the type you find in the queue at Borders or Hallmark, with little clever anecdotes or quotes about big-picture-type things, like sisterhood, mothers, teachers, golfing as a lifestyle... or the meaning of life. A good friend of mine suggested I borrow one that someone close to her had given her, and I read it with increasing happiness. I am hardly exaggerating when I say that each line was full of wisdom and inspiration. Please read the following exerpt once or twice and really let it sink in...

"It's incredibly draining to live through the day doing something you really don't enjoy or even care about. But if you follow your dreams, at least you will exhaust yourself doing what you love most...But best of all, ...you will inspire someone to go after their dreams, and that, my friend, is how you change the world!" -Bradley Trevor Greive, The Meaning of Life

Lately His Dreams

"Lately his dreams had taken him to the small village in Iceland where he'd grown up. To the jetty and the mountain behind the village. He had no idea why and didn't think his dreams were of any significance." -Walking into the Night, Olaf Olafsson

Dexter's Darkness

Here is an exerpt from the first book in the Dexter series by Jeff Lindsay (yes, this is the same character who inspired the Dexter from the Showtime series, although the novels came first and are quite different in various ways). This is a scene from the first book in the series (ironically?) called Darkly Dreaming Dexter, in which Dexter catches himself having dreamed:

Hello, dear boy, so good to have you back. But where on earth have you been?

That, of course, was the question. I have spent most of my life untroubled by dreams, and for that matter, hallucinations. No visions of the Apocalypse for me; no troubling Jungian icons burbling up from my subconscious, no mysterious recurring images drifting through the history of my unconsciousness. Nothing ever goes bump in Dexter's night. When I go to sleep, all of me sleeps.

So what had just happened? Why were these pictures appearing to me?

Exerpt from Sea Glass

"What do you dream about, Quillen McDermott?"
The question is so unexpected and so direct that for a moment McDermott cannot answer.
"No fair thinking about it," she says. "You have to answer right away."
"Whose rules are these?" he asks, stalling for time.
"My rules, of course." She smiles, crinkling the few wrinkles at the sides of her eyes.
"Don't remember my dreams," he says.
"I don't believe you."
"Why not?"
"I think you're a deep one."

-Sea Glass, by Anita Shreve

'Neverwhere' Dream Sequence

He is somewhere deep beneath the ground: in a tunnel, perhaps, or a sewer. Light comes in flickers, defining the darkness, not dispelling it. He is not alone. There are other people walking beside him, although he cannot see their faces. They are running, now, through the inside of the sewer, splashing through the mud and filth. Droplets of water fall slowly through the air, crystal clear in the darkness.


He turns a corner, and the beast is waiting for him.


It is huge. It fills the space of the sewer: massive head down, bristled body and breath steaming in the chill of the air. Some kind of boar, he thinks at first, and then realizes that no boar could be so huge. It is the size of a bull, of a tiger, of an ox.


It stares at him, and it pauses for a hundred years, while he lifts his spear. He glances at his hand, holding the spear, and observes that it is not his hand: the arm is furred with dark hair, the nails are almost claws.


And then the beast charges.


He throws his spear, but it is already too late, and he feels the beast slice his side with razor-sharp tusks, feels his life slip away into the mud: and he realizes he has fallen face down into the water, which crimsons in thick swirls of suffocating blood. And he tries to scream, he tries to wake up, but he can breathe only mud and blood and water, he can feel only pain...


"Bad dream?" asked the girl. 


-Neverwhere, Neil Gaiman

Sian's Nightmares

It was true that ever since the accident in Bosnia, Sian's dreams had treated her pretty roughly. For years on end she'd had her 'standard-issue' nightmare- the one in which she was chased through dark alleyways by a malevolent car. But at least in that dream she'd always wake up just before she fell beneath the wells, whisked to the safety of the waking world, still flailing under the tangled sheets and blankets of her bed. Ever since she'd moved to Whitby, however, her dreams had lost what little good taste they'd once had, and now Sian was lucky if she got out of them alive. -The Hundred and Ninety-Nine Steps, Michel Faber

Responses from the Chocolate Factory

From the 1971 film adaptation of the film Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory (based on 1964 publication Charlie and the Chocolate Factory by popular author Roald Dahl) comes a scene in which bratty rich girl Veruca Salt gets an answer from wacky candy creator Willy Wonka...

from The Book of Lost Things

David was certain that he had been dreaming, although he could not quite recall the substance of the dream. Of one thing he was sure: the dream had not been a pleasant one, but all that remained was a lingering feeling of unease and a tingling on the palm of his right hand, as though it had been stroked with poison ivy. There was the same sensation on the side of his face, and he could not shake off the feeling that something unpleasant had touched him while he was lost to the world. -The Book of Lost Things, John Connolly

The Book of Lost Things is very enjoyable:s dark, exciting, full of fantasy. John Connolly writes in a style that is easily absorbed, engrossing; it reads quick and is entertaining throughout. David, the main character, is a young boy surrounded by adult things: the depressing reality of war (World War I), and the mourning supreme the loss of his mother to a Cancer. When he accidentally discovers an alternate world, he starts an adventure which is terrifying and forces him to grow up much faster than a boy should. 

In this world his courage and strength, and in the end, his morals, are repeatedly tested. His travels take him all over, meeting various characters; some friends, some foes, including a few from famous fairy tales, but many are new faces. He is seeking the king, and his infamous Book of Lost Things, which is said to hold magical powers, as well as the way back to David's true home-- however, he must avoid The Crooked Man, the trickster, a creepy character with unspeakable evil powers. The book is a success with an ending that is abrupt, somewhat emotional, and unpredictable. 

The Book of Lost Things has its own internet presence; it's clever and fun- check it out here!

Dreams for Sale

Stalls had been set up all throughout the shop, next to, or even on, counters that, during the day, had sold perfume, or watches, or amber, or silk scarves. Everybody was buying. Everybody was selling. Richard listened to the market cries as he began to wander through the crowds. "Lovely fresh dreams. First-class nightmares. We got 'em. Get yer lovely nightmares here."


-Neverwhere, Neil Gaiman

Squirrels in Human Form

Martin dreamed he was on the underground.  It was a Circle-line train, the sort of carriage where all the seats face the aisle.  At first he was the only passenger, but soon people began to get on, and he found himself staring at his knees to avoid looking at the crotch of the man crowded against him.  He wasn’t sure what station he was supposed to get off at; since it was the Circle line they would all come round again and again, so he stayed where he was, trying to remember where he was going.

Martin heard peculiar noises coming from the seats directly across from him—crunching, ripping, chewing sounds, which increased in volume as the train went on.  Martin began to be anxious—the sounds worked on his nerves like grinding teeth.  Something rolled up against his foot.  He looked down.  It was a walnut.

The train stopped at Monument and quite a few people got off.  Now he could see across the aisle.  Two young women sat together.  They wore scuffed white trainers and medial scrubs, and each had a shopping bag resting on her lap.  Both women had protruding eyes and pronounced overbites.  They wore wary expressions, as though prepared to defend their bags against thieves.  Both women delved into the bags with shovel-like hands, scooping out walnuts and ripping them open with their huge teeth.

“Wotchalookin’ at?” said one to Martin.  He could hear walnuts rolling all over the floor.  No one else seemed to notice.  Martin shook his head, unable to speak.  To his horror, the women got up and seated themselves on either side of him.  The one who had spoken before leaned over and put her mouth to his ear.

“We’re squirrels in human form,” she whispered. “And so are you.”         

From Her Fearful Symmetry, by Audrey Niffenegger

Being Alive = Infinite Potential

"You're alive, Bod. That means you have infinite potential. You can do anything, make anything, dream anything. If you change the world, the world will change. Potential. Once you're dead, it's gone. Over. You've made what you've made, dreamed your dream, written your name. You may be buried here, you may even walk. But that potential is finished." -Silas, The Graveyard Book, by Neil Gaiman