"Maybe I’m dreaming you. Maybe you’re dreaming me; maybe we only exist in each other’s dreams and every morning when we wake up we forget all about each other."
The Time Traveler’s Wife by Audrey Niffenegger
"Santa Cecilia" de Waterhouse
'Or in a clear-wall'd city on the sea
Near gilded organ-pipes, her hair
Wound with white roses, slept St. Cecily;
An angel look'd at her.'
-Tennyson
La princesa y el guisante
The firebird 
The Sleeper 
Dreamland 
One morning he awoke, and no one could understand the meaning of his talk; he
declared he had had a dream, and in his dream he had seen two eyes, the eyes he
needed for the completing of his picture; and without these eyes he never again could
touch either colour or brush. King Wanda had called for him to be brought before
his presence, but Eric had sullenly refused to answer his command.
A circle of mist seemed to be
settling around them
O sleep, O gentle sleep,
Nature’s soft nurse, how have I frighted thee,
That thou no more wilt weigh my eyelids down
And steep my sense in forgetfulness?
~William Shakespeare,Henry IV, Part I
Maleficent: I really felt quite distressed at not receiving an invitation…
Merryweather: You weren’t wanted!
Puede que Maléfica no haya tenido nunca muchos amigos, puede que se sienta sola y no haya tenido más remedio que construirse una coraza.
Puede que Maléfica se convierta en un dragón porque es su forma de defenderse.
Pero eso no quiere decir que no tenga corazón.
Éste es el cartel de La Bella Durmiente más bonito que he visto nunca. Me gusta como el pelo de ella parece fuego rodeándola. De repente me han entrado muchas ganas de verla otra vez.
“He no longer dreamed of storms, nor of women, nor of great occurrences, nor of great fish, nor fights, nor contests of strength, nor of his wife. He only dreamed of places now and the lions on the beach. They played like young cats in the dusk and he loved them as he loved the boy. He never dreamed about the boy. He simply woke, looked out the open door at the moon and unrolled his trousers and put them on.”
— Ernest Hemingway (The Old Man and the Sea)”
“I love the silent hour of night,
For blissful dreams may then arise,
Revealing to my charmed sight,
What may not bless my waking eyes.”
— Anne Brontë, “Night”
"La Bella Durmiente" de Viktor VasnetsovThey who dream by day are cognizant of many things which escape those who dream only by night.Edgar Allan Poe, Eleonora (1841)
“There are so many fragile things, after all. People break so easily, and so do dreams and hearts.”
— Neil Gaiman, Fragile Things
So, you won't take warning, eh? All the worse for you. I'll take care of you now instead of later. When I gain those ruby slippers, my power will be the greatest in Oz. (She stirs the potion.) Now my beauties. Something with poi-son in it I think. With poison in it. But attractive to the eye and soothing to the smell. Ha-ha-ha-ha. Poppies. Poppies. Poppies will put them to sleep. Sle-ee-p. Now they'll sle-ee-p.
There is nobody in the world who knows so many stories as Ole-Luk-Oie, or who can relate them so nicely. In the evening, while the children are seated at the table or in their little chairs, he comes up the stairs very softly, for he walks in his socks, then he opens the doors without the slightest noise, and throws a small quantity of very fine dust in their eyes, just enough to prevent them from keeping them open, and so they do not see him. Then he creeps behind them, and blows softly upon their necks, till their heads begin to droop. But Ole-Luk-Oie does not wish to hurt them, for he is very fond of children, and only wants them to be quiet that he may relate to them pretty stories, and they never are quiet until they are in bed and asleep. As soon as they are asleep, Ole-Luk-Oie seats himself upon the bed. He is nicely dressed; his coat is made of silken stuff; it is impossible to say of what color, for it changes from green to red, and from red to blue as he turns from side to side. Under each arm he carries an umbrella; one of them, with pictures on the inside, he spreads over the good children, and then they dream the most beautiful stories the whole night. But the other umbrella has no pictures, and this he holds over the naughty children so that they sleep heavily, and wake in the morning without having dreamed at all.
