So for a while I had telekenisis

[whisky]

Started off with this great dream, that I could move things by pointing at them, first it was just bringing them to my hand, like I was magnetised, then it was sending them back, later I could just move things around in the air, then two things, one with each hand, then I woke up.

I told Jenny about my dream and she didn't believe me, so I pointed at something and it flew to my hand, she had fallen back asleep and missed it, so I woke her up and did it again, and she missed it again, so then I lifted her up with it, and that got her attention. She looked on in amazement as I moved several objects simultaneously, juggling them without ever touching them, and then I woke from that dream.

Back to reality and having to pick things up for real.

Damn you reality!

 

[CaptainWacky]

Maybe you're still dreaming now.

 

[eloisel]

Once Zhuang Zhou dreamed he was a butterfly, a fluttering butterfly. What fun he had, doing as he pleased! He did not know he was Zhou. Suddenly he woke up and found himself to be Zhou. He did not know whether Zhou had dreamed he was a butterfly or a butterfly had dreamed he was Zhou.

 

[Eggs Mayonnaise]

I dreamed a dream that Les Miz was never written.

 

[whisky]

Did you wake up sweating?

 

[Eggs Mayonnaise]

I was as drenched as the guy in the pool at the opening of Sunset Boulevard.

 

[SilentBtViolent]

Moon over Japan,
White butterfly moon!
Where the heavy-lidded Buddhas dream
To the sound of the cuckoo's call...
The white wings of moon butterflies
Flicker down the streets of the city,
Blushing into silence the useless wicks of sound-lanterns in
the hands of girls
Moon over the tropics,
A white-curved bud
Opening its petals slowly in the warmth of heaven...
The air is full of odours
And languorous warm sounds...
A flute drones its insect music to the night
Below the curving moon-petal of the heavens.
Moon over China,
Weary moon on the river of the sky,
The stir of light in the willows is like the flashing of a
thousand silver minnows
Through dark shoals;
The tiles on graves and rotting temples flash like ripples,
The sky is flecked with clouds like the scales of a dragon.



(-H.P. Lovecraft)