Best 195 quotes in «nightmares quotes» category

What about nightmares? Have you experienced sexual dreams of a dark nature?

When I was small I dreamed of demons. I thought they were under my bed, but you said, it can't be so, you don't get demons our side of the river, the guards won't let them over London Bridge.

When life becomes a nightmare all you have are your dreams.

When she woke up crying for one of her nightmares, the Kolker would stay with her, brush her hair with his hands, collect her tears in thimbles for her to drink the next morning (The only way to overcome sadness is to consume it, he said), and more than that: once her eyes closed and she fell back asleep, he was left to bear the insomnia. There was a complete transfer, like a speeding billiard ball colliding with a resting one. Should Brod feel depressed - she was always depressed - the Kolker would sit with her until he could convince her that it’s OK. It is. Really. And when she would move on with her day, he would stay behind, paralysed with a grief he couldn’t name and that wasn’t his. Should Brod become sick, it was the Kolker that would be bedridden by week’s end. Should Brod feel bored, knowing too many languages, too many facts, with too much knowledge to be happy, the Kolker would stay up all night studying her books, studying the pictures, so the next day he could try to make the kind of small talk that would please his young wife.

With my newfound sense of safety came strange thoughts and fragments of scenes flashing in my head. They came slowly enough for me to see them clearly, but out of context, and I didn't understand what they meant. More and more often, I woke up drenched in sweat.

Who am I fooling? Bad dreams never end. We just pretend they aren’t there.

When your dream turns into a nightmare, rise to the challenge and slaughter the dragons

When you wake up from a nightmare, the reality comforts you. When you wake up from the best dream ever, reality is a burden, a slap-in-the-face reminder that you could feel this, you could have this, but you don’t and you won’t.

You should only be scared of your imagination because it'll haunt you at night

Writers,” Esther said simply. “For some reason, a lot of you reject what you hear and see in your heads. If you go too long ignoring it, it builds up and then you do all sorts of weird things. Mumble to yourself. Nightmares. Daydreams. Total anarchy and chaos. Before you know it, the writer is either sitting in a corner feverishly humming to his- or herself or on Prozac.

You are much larger than anything you encounter while you sleep. Everything that happens in dream takes place on a small stage in a corner of your mind.

You have to face your nightmares, Jack. You have to unpack them like you would open up a gift. You must take your nightmares out of the box you’ve stuffed them into so you can learn what are lies and what is the truth.

You are the keeper of your memories. And you are the composer of your nightmares.

You can’t murder that which is eternal, that which will lie until death itself passes. But you can slow it, cripple it, hobble it. You can hurt your nightmares; it’s a two-way street.

Adding to my emotional dizziness on Sunday, I spoke with my sister, who kept noting how amazing Michael is, and what a brave and selfless man he is for having helped as he did.

Ah, Proph." Tom paused. "You did have a nightmare last night." "And here I thought maybe I dreamed it," Prophet muttered sarcastically.

And now I Carve the things I saw in my fever dreams, just as they always wished. I dreamed of you, I think. In the end, I suppose they'll wish I hadn't dreamed at all.

And everybody dreams about vampires; we grow up dreaming about them. They're the first and worst monster that lives under everybody's bed.

All possible dreams exist, the normal, the abnormal, the unimaginable. Without action, they have no consequence, so why are some considered nightmares, and others fantasy? - The Malwatch

And that someone would pay. Revenge is a cold bedfellow, Diana had said, but Emma didn't believe that. Revenge would let her think about her parents without a cold knot forming in her stomach. She would be able to dream without seeing their drowned faces and hearing their voices cry out for her help.

Are you sure this isn't a nightmare? And that we won't just wake up? Yes. Because dreamers always wake up and leave their monsters behind.

A nightmare might force you awakened. The tough life might force you awakened.

Annie refused to believe in nightmares. Anything she feared at night, she knew she could kill once awake.

Because of fear, most people don’t dream big. Because of fear, even those who dream big do not start working on them. Because of fear, those who start working on their dreams end up quitting too early.

As for me, sleep was a country I no longer visited, despite my incantation. When I did, I wished for my waking life, the hours when I didn't see the nightmare images of all that had happened and all I had become.

AS I SLEEP I fear that darkness Finds me As I sleep When life is quieted Midnight’s brutal feet Cast upon me Cementing me Against my pillow In a heaven Of black roses

A ten-year-old Amanda wandering around the sights and sounds of a carnival. Trying to take it all in as such an event was much larger than the backroads of isolated territory from whence she grew up. She could not imagine this many people assembled in one place. It was made more disturbing by the fact none of them seemed familiar. Short for her age, she wandered unnoticed among the crowds and began to feel the first stirrings of fear. The loud talk, the screaming children, the long lines of procession, along with the myriads of odors created a miasma that she wanted to flee. The laughter and the faux expressions of joy on the faces of people, took on the maroon tones of a nightmare. She could imagine underneath the laughter, were horrid screams about to erupt.

Bad dreams are better than no dreams...at least they tell you what you're afraid of knowing.

Bria was silent for a moment. “What—what were you dreaming about?” I shrugged. “The usual. The night that our mother and Annabella died. I always see different parts of it, different bits and pieces.” “What did you see tonight?” I grimaced, even though she couldn’t see it in the darkness. “Oh, tonight was a real doozy. I dreamed about watching them die, about seeing them both disappear into balls of flames as Mab’s elemental Fire washed over them.” “Oh.

But then, as I looked in the mirror, I became fixated on some hairs near my carotid artery that were still there. I pushed the blade deep against my neck to shave them off, and then blood squirted out.

But I stayed up thinking about how I've been lying to him, no less than I lie to myself in my pre-sleep ritual. And I lied to him again just as we were growing more intimate than ever and he asked me about my scar.

But the fact is, dreams catch us with our armor off.

By morning I was worn out. My limbs felt heavy as wood, my head cottony. I might've felt better if I hadn't slept at all.

Dark nights, bright days!

Carla's description was typical of survivors of chronic childhood abuse. Almost always, they deny or minimize the abusive memories. They have to: it's too painful to believe that their parents would do such a thing. So they fragment the memories into hundreds of shards, leaving only acceptable traces in their conscious minds. Rationalizations like "my childhood was rough," "he only did it to me once or twice," and "it wasn't so bad" are common, masking the fact that the abuse was devastating and chronic. But while the knowledge, body sensations, and feelings are shattered, they are not forgotten. They intrude in unexpected ways: through panic attacks and insomnia, through dreams and artwork, through seemingly inexplicable compulsions, and through the shadowy dread of the abusive parent. They live just outside of consciousness like noisy neighbors who bang on the pipes and occasionally show up at the door.

Chase your dreams and your nightmares will grow tired of chasing you.

Darkness is happening," said the leather woman, very quietly. "Night is happening. All the nightmares that have come out when the sun goes down, since the cave times, when we huddled together in fear for safety and for warmth, are happening. Now.

Dead flesh and sharpened scalpels didn't bother me. I was my father's daughter, after all. My nightmares were made of darker things.

Die in my nightmares; I will live in yours.

Dirck's mind hadn't stopped racing since the arrest. Why were the only dreams that came true nightmares?

Do not ignore dreams. They are a line from the past to the future. All nightmares are real.

Dreams so often become nightmares. Family can so easily become foes. And people are always more stupid than you give them credit for.

Dreams are horrible, to don't talk about nightmares they are more often. But there is always one gift from a person which you know is dead, that's how it works and it will continue to work.

Dreams can only be seen with open eyes, what you see while you asleep are nightmares.

Emergency Rooms ... were the nightmares your nightmares had while they slept.

Even in his sleep he couldn't escape.

Even dead he won't let me go!" "Third time's the charm.

Even though it’s pleasing to boast about achievements I have earned in my generation, nothing makes me more content in the world than just having the exciting opportunity to share my passion of work with the public. What is even more exhilarating, is being able (having the capability) to spend quality time with my loving wife, (Gloria) and family doing what I love most in the world -- writing. Their total well-being and health, along with my health too means everything to me. I have had my fair share of narrow escapes in my life to know how important my family, and health are to me. I will never take that for granted again – ever.

Finnick and I sit for a long time in silence, watching the knots bloom and vanish, before I can ask, 'How do you bear it?' Finnick looks at me in disbelief. 'I don't, Katniss! Obviously, I don't. I drag myself out of nightmares each morning and find there's no relief in waking.' Something in my expression stops him. 'Better not give in to it. It takes ten times as long to put yourself together as it does to fall apart.' Well, he must know. I take a deep breath, forcing myself back into one piece.

Every man has at least one nightmare he'd like to keep to himself.