Quotes About Nightmares

I could see her get all nervous but she was also excited. Nightmares have that quality, don't they?

The nightmares arrived like they always did, much like the best player in the opposition when you've heard rumors that he might be injured or sick-but there he is, warming up with the rest of them, ready to take the field.

I tried not to sleep because I was afraid of who might be there when I woke up.

Sería bonito decir que después de este pequeño avance, ni Liesel ni Max volvieron a tener pesadillas. Sería bonito, pero mentira.

Everybody dreams about being harmed. It's easy. Much tougher to recover from the dream of harming…

There was no tour guide on hand to tell her that in Kashmir nightmares were promiscuous. They were unfaithful to their owners, they cartwheeled wantonly into other people's dreams, they acknowledged no precincts, they were the greatest ambush artists of all. No fortification, no fence-building could keep them in check. In Kashmir the only thing to do with nightmares was to embrace them like old friends and manage them like old enemies.

There was no tour guide on hand to tell her that in Kashmir nightmares were promiscuous. That they were unfaithful to their owners, they cartwheeled wantonly into other people's dreams, they acknowledged no precincts, they were the greatest ambush artists of all. No fortification, no fence-building could keep them in check. In Kashmir the only thing to do with nightmares was to embrace them like old friends and manage them like old enemies.

When we admit and deal with difference; when we deal with the deep bitterness; when we deal with the horror of even our different nightmares; when we turn them and look at them, it's like looking at death: hard but possible. If you look at it directly without embracing it, then there is much less that you can ever be made to fear.

I was still a prisoner in my nightmares, and every morning the play began again.

Nightmares exist outside of logic, and there's little fun to be had in explanations; they're antithetical to the poetry of fear.

There is no group therapy or psychiatry or community social services for the child who must cope with the thing under the bed or in the cellar every night, the thing which leers and capers and threatens just beyond the point where vision will reach. The same lonely battle must be fought night after night and the only cure is the eventual ossification of the imaginary faculties, and this is called adulthood.

The sleep of reason breeds monsters.

We all remember our pleasant dreams more clearly than the scary ones.

In nightmares we can think the worst. That's what they're for, I guess.

That's not such a bad thing,' he said to me. 'In nightmares we can think the worst. That's what they're for, I guess.

Some nightmares never completely ended.

When had men not been mystified by women? They were the magic that men dreamed of, and sometimes their dreams were nightmares.

I don't want to hear the scary part. But at the same time she does want to hear the scary part, everyone wants to hear the scary part, we're all mad here, and her mother really did say that if you told your dreams they wouldn't come true, which meant you were supposed to tell the nightmares and save the good ones for yourself, hide them like a tooth under the pillow.

His so-fucking-vivid imagination rarely gave him the horrors, but when it did, God help him. God help him once it was warmed up. It was not only warmed up now, it was hot and running on full choke. That there was no sense at all in what he was thinking made not a whit of difference in the dark. In the dark, rationality seemed stupid and logic a dream. In the dark he thought with his skin.

True monsters are not those lurking under the bed, but the ones sleeping in it.

real life nightmares kills me as an old man trying to escape from bad guilty memories who basically lives in the present.

Love is the greatest of dreams, yet the worst of nightmares.

No more nightmares about the Fishers?" "Last night," Tanzie said, "I dreamed about a cabbage that could roller-skate. It was called Kevin." Mum gave her a long look. "Right.

I was on the airplane after spending one of those nights of the damned that produces artists or serial killers. Sleep brought nightmares of violence and loss. Waking brought its own anxieties. Every noise in the old house assumed a sinister tone. Closing and locking the bedroom door provided no security to my imagination. Nor did keeping on every light. So I lay down, turned from side to side, got up, prowled, came back to bed, over and over.