The Sandman, Vol. 3: Dream Country

Things need not have happened to be true. Tales and dreams are the shadow-truths that will endure when mere facts are dust and ashes, and forgot.

But he did not understand the price. Mortals never do. They only see the prize, their heart's desire, their dream... But the price of getting what you want, is getting what you once wanted.

When the first living thing existed, I was there waiting. When the last living thing dies, my job will be finished. I'll put the chairs on the tables, turn out the lights and lock the universe behind me when I leave.

I'm not blessed, or merciful. I'm just me. I've got a job to do, and I do it. Listen: even as we're talking, I'm there for old and young, innocent and guilty, those who die together and those who die alone. I'm in cars and boats and planes; in hospitals and forests and abbatoirs. For some folks death is a release, and for others death is an abomination, a terrible thing. But in the end, I'm there for all of them.

Writers are liars my dear, surely you know that by now?

For some folks death is release, and for others death is an abomination, a terrible thing. But in the end, I'm there for all of them.

Dreams shape the world

I only have two kinds of dreams: the bad and the terrible. Bad dreams I can cope with. They're just nightmares, and they end eventually. I wake up. The terrible dreams are the good dreams. In my terrible dreams, everything is fine. I am still with the company. I still look like me. None of the last five years ever happened. Sometimes I'm married. Once I even had kids. I even knew their names. Everything's wonderful and normal and fine. And then I wake up, and I'm still me. And I'm still here. And that is truly terrible.

Writers are liars, my dear, surely you know that by now? And yet, things need not have happened to be true. Tales and dreams are the shadow-truths that will endure when mere facts are dust and ashes, and forgot.

You people always hold onto old identities, old faces and masks, long after they've served their purpose. But you've got to learn to throw things away eventually.

I smoke a cigarette, and pretend I'm normal. And I wish I was dead.

Still, every little bit helps, as the old woman said when she pissed in the sea.

I only have two kinds of dreams: the bad and the terrible. Bad dreams I can cope with. They're just nightmares, and they end eventually. The terrible dreams are the good dreams.

When the first living thing existed, I was there, waiting.

I hate dreams. I don't want any more dreams. I don't want any more anything.

Rainie, mythologies take longer to die than people believe. They linger on in a kind of dream country that affects all of you.

Justice?... Justice is a delusion you will not find on this or any other sphere.And wisdom? Wisdom is no part of dreams, lithe walker, though dreams are a part of the sum of each life's experiences, which is the only wisdom that matters.But revelation? That is the province of dream. It can be yours, but only if your heart is strong

They say that cigarettes will kill you, eventually. Fine. That's just fine. I only wish they'd do it faster.

...then a human arose amongst them. a golden-furred male, bred and raised in the pleasure gardens of one of the sybaritic feline ladies. and the human had a dream. and it walked amongst its fellows and it told them "dream! dreams shape the world."[...] and the word spread amongst the humans. [...] one night, enough of them dreamed. a thousand perhaps, no more. they dreamed... and the next day, things changed. humans were huge, and cats were tiny.

An old writer with no one to talk to gets fond of the sound of his own voice.