Sandman

I am publishing some excerpts from Sandman, by Neil Gaiman

Chloe: When I dream, sometimes I remember how to fly. You just lift one leg, then you lift the other leg, and you're not standing on anything, and you can fly. And then when I wake up I can't remember how to do it any more.
Sandman: So?
Chloe: So what I want to know is, when I'm asleep, do I really remember how to fly? And forget how when I wake up? Or am I just dreaming I can fly?
Sandman: When you dream, sometimes you remember. When you wake, you always forget.
Chloe: But that's not fair...
Sandman: No.

DELIRIUM: What's the name of the word for the precise moment when you realize that you've actually forgotten how it felt to make love to somebody you really liked a long time ago?
MORPHEUS: There isn't one.
DELIRIUM: Is there a word for forgetting the name of someone when you want to introduce them to someone else at the same time you realize you've forgotten the name of the person you're introducing them to as well?
MORPEUS: No.

DELIRIUM: That person. Farrell-mond. What was he?
MORPHEUS: He used to be a God. When we last met, in Babylon, his sacrifices were dwindling, and many of his shrines had already been abandoned. I merely suggested that he find himself another occupation.
DELIRIUM: Oh. I didn't know you could stop being a god.
MORPHEUS: You can stop being anything.

Destruction: Times are changing, my brother... And this is what the invisible college has become. Have you been here before?
Sandman: I do not believe so.
Destruction: They are using reason as a tool. Reason. It is no more reliable a tool than instinct, myth or dream. But it has the potential to be far more dangerous, for them. They are exploring and creating, defining and dissecting...
Sandman: This is why you wished to speak to me? To show me that they are cutting up apes? That is nothing new. Do they think that they can impale the soul of it on their knives? That if they cut deep enough, they can extract its dreams, naked and writhing and screaming, from its head? Reason is a flawed tool at best, my brother.

ISHTAR: I know how gods begin, Roger. We start as dreams. Then we walk out of dreams into the land. We are worshipped and loved, and take power to ourselves. And the one day there's no one left to worship us. And in the end, each little god and goddess takes its last journey back into dreams... and what comes after, not even we know.

DESTRUCTION: I like the stars. It's the illusion of permanence, I think. I mean, they're always flaring up and caving in and going out. But from here, I can pretend. I can pretend that things last. I can pretend that lives last longer than moments. Gods come, and gods go. Mortals flicker and flash and fade. Worlds don't last; and stars and galaxies are transient, fleeting things that twinkle like fireflies and vanish into cold and dust.
But I can pretend.