Sheri S. Tepper Quotes

If nothing is the way it seems, then this life is just a haunted dream.

The world seemed to shimmer a little at the edges.

All that we see or seem is but a dream within a dream.

Every day after I wake up, I think, 'Wait... this can't be real; I'm still going to wake up.'

I can't remember any dreams in my life. There's so much strange in real life that it often seems like a dream.

My pictures are about getting as far away from reality as possible. Dreams should be part of our everyday life.

His home was populated by things and creatures from Niall Lynch's dreams, and his mother was just another one of them

in dreams it is often the case that the greatest extravagances seem bereft of their power to astonish and the most improbable chimeras seem commonplace.

If I ventured in the slipstream between the viaducts of your dreams, where immobile steel rims crack and the ditch in the back roads stop. Could you find me?

Dreams feel real while we're in them. It's only when we wake up that we realize something was actually strange.

I think that, like in my writing, reality is always a soap bubble, Silly Putty thing anyway. In the universe people are in, people put their hands through the walls, and it turns out they're living in another century entirely. I often have the feeling — and it does show up in my books — that this is all just a stage.

I'm more and more convinced that life is a dream. What has happened to me is surely a dream.

"Well, it's no use your talking about waking him," said Tweedledum, "when you're only one of the things in his dream. You know very well you're not real."

I was too tired to think. I merely felt the town as a unique unreality. What was it? I knew -- the moon's picture of a town. These streets with their houses did not exist, they were but a ludicrous projection of the moon's sumptuous personality. This was a city of Pretend, created by the hypnotism of moonnight. -- Yet when I examined the moon she too seemed but a painting of a moon and the sky in which she lived a fragile echo of color. If I blew hard the whole shy mechanism would collapse gently with a neat soundless crash. I must not, or lose all.

I had a friend who was a heavy drinker. If somebody asked him if he'd been drunk the night before, he would always answer offhandedly, 'Oh, I imagine.' I've always liked that answer. It acknowledges life as a dream.

Sometimes you wake up from a dream. Sometimes you wake up in a dream. And sometimes, every once in a while, you wake up in someone else's dream.

Even my nighttime dreams are very, very rooted in reality. They just start to become surreal, little by little.

Everything that falls upon the eye is apparition, a sheet dropped over the world's true workings. The nerves and the brain are tricked, and one is left with dreams that these specters loose their hands from ours and walk away, the curve of the back and the swing of the coat so familiar as to imply that they should be permanent fixtures of the world, when in fact nothing is more perishable.

It’s so real." "Most dreams are. It isn't until you wake up that you see all the plot holes.

The world is changing every moment, and is therefore unreal. It has non permanent existence.

If you're wondering if you're dreaming, you're dreaming.

Too many things are possible in a dream. It's most interesting when you don't know which space you're in.

A new world, material without being real, where poor ghosts, breathing dreams like air, drifted fortuitously about.

While we flatter ourselves that things remain the same, they are changing under our very eyes from year to year, from day to day.

We don't even know if we're in this room. We could be in a turtle's dream in outer space.