Quotes About Surreal

the Necronomicon is also a manual not only of dream interpretation (a la Freud) but of dream control.

Floaters swarmed through his eyeballs like schools of panicked fish.

I saw their living mouths moving in conversation and their dead mouths grinning the taut-drawn grins of corpses. Their living eyes I saw, and their dead eyes still-staring. Had it not been for the fear that I was going crazy, I would have found it an interesting experience, a trip such as no drug could possibly produce. Asleep and dreaming, I saw dead men living; awake, I saw living men dead.

Les pieds encore dans leur rêve, ils se savaient pendus tête en bas.

When my dad visited me while I was doing a play in New York City two years ago, I took him to see 'Late Show With Stephen Colbert.' Now I'm going to his house. It's surreal.

Visiting Lucerne is like going to Disneyland: You can't imagine that it is real because it looks like a movie lot.

A lot of the surreal writing that I love is really dreamlike. Like Murakami. He uses the real world, and it's pretty recognizable, but its populated by these strange visitors, or it has these underground spaces. I was always really compelled by that.

I have to say that getting to tackle Maria in 'The Sound of Music' at Carnegie Hall was surreal. When I heard my voice, it was all I could do to keep myself from doing a British accent and sound like Julie Andrews!

I can fall asleep in the shower without drowning.

madness that didn't involve mania or depression or psychosis. He called it 'manie sans delire' – insanity without delusions.

this was a man palpably simulating crying, which made the moment at once awkward, surreal, and quite disturbing.     Our

Chip's sphincter had meanwhile dilated nearly to the degree of unconditional surrender.

I was famously in love with a woman who had no time to spare, not even a breath, for she dwelled in a place beyond time or the reach of anyone's Rolodex, her every breath measured out of pressurized tanks.

Picture us, five floating nudists in oxygen masks, ragged with fatigue and degrees of schock, squeezing the last beads of antifreeze from our hair.

Cocaine Suppe Mit Tittenschnakken

Succotash my Balzac, dipshiitake.

In my dream, people apologized for things that were about to happen, and lit candles by inhaling.

He walked against the florid banners of the fire. And the fire did not bite his flesh but caressed and engulfed him without heat or combustion. With relief, with humiliation, with terror, he understood that he, too, was all appearance, that someone else was dreaming him.

The bats inebriate the sky . . .

j'ai rêvé , l'autre nuit, que mon corps était des mots.

I became an ethereal sky, wrenched and stretched to dry.

HOW MOST OF THE DREAMS GO First, it's a fawn dog, and then it's a baby. I'm helping him to swim in a thermal pool, the water is black as coffee, the cement edges are steep so to sink would be easy and final. I ask the dog (that is also the child), Is it okay that I want you to be my best friend? And the child nods. (And the dog nods.) Sometimes, he drowns. Sometimes, we drown together.

Above the desk there was this framed picture of Jesus. He was reaching his hand out and making this face like he was about to get shot.

I am not in the body of life. I hover on the extremities. I float.