“We are such stuff as dreams are made on, (...)

(...) and our little life is rounded with a sleep” (The Tempest - W.Shakespeare)

Know when you go to bed and there, under your pillow, all your good and bad, all your best and more evil ideas are kept, just waiting for you to go asleep so that they can enter your mind and make you have all sorts of dreams?

Know that feeling when you wake up and just don't know where from all that crazy combinations of facts came to pollute your sleeping?

Know when after waking up and even not knowing what have you dreamt about, you have that perception that it wasn't ordinary or usual; That it wasn't just a dream or just a thought; That it was more? Know when your dreams mean much more than what the images seam to? Know when there are tips all around and your dreams take them all and throw at your face?

Know what? You can hide some secrets from other people, maybe. You can pretend they just don't exist. But you can not hide them from yourself.

At least... not for a long time.

P.S.: Esse texto teve tudo a ver com a (minha) noite passada, tem um motivo para ser em inglês (que só eu e meus sonhos sabemos, hahaha) e se fosse em português ia perder o sentido para mim. Então, espero que vocês o entendam em inglês mesmo. Se não rolar, sempre tem a opção de jogar num tradutor on-line, mas o texto vai ficar horrível... hahaha. Prometo que vou evitar esse tipo de post, mas é que hoje não deu para suprimir o impulso de escrever em inglês.(;

Beijinhos! Tenham uma ótima semana!