Joey Chestnut Quotes

I don't know why, but even my nighttime dreams are very, very rooted in reality. They just start to become surreal, little by little. That exact moment when you're about to realize that this might be a dream is my favorite thing.

After I went to bed I had a curious fancy as to dreams. In sleep the doors of the mind are shut, and thoughts come jumping in at the windows. They tumble headlong, and therefore are so disorderly and strange. Sometimes they are stout and light on their feet, and then they are rational dreams.

If he can't sleep, how will he ever dream?

To sleep perchance to dream

I'm too high, but I ain't left the ground.

Take me, I am the drug; take me, I am hallucinogenic.

One of the most adventurous things left us is to go to bed. For no one can lay a hand on our dreams.

I got down to business and started writing furiously. I wore my fingers down to a callous state writing with every Tom, Dick and Harry around the world, including a chap named Charlie who plays for a man named Bob, to wrestle my emotions and bring out the raw grit hiding in my tightly guarded sub-conscious.

My real self is probably more creative and more frightening than any sort of drink or drug-induced state.

The psychical, whatever its nature may be, is itself unconscious.

Hypnosis is about shutting down the conscious mind and re-igniting the unconscious and the imagination, so while I give instructions to them under hypnosis, the contestants might interpret those instructions in all kinds of ways.

I have dreams all the time.

I have surreal dreams, so much so that I can never make head nor tail of them.

I lived so completely in my mind - a place of unchecked delusion and complete fantasy!

A lot of times, my best games are when I'm not even thinking.

A novel is what you dream in your night sleep. A novel is not waking thoughts although it is written and thought with waking thoughts.

I suspect that dreams are an integral part of existence, with far more use for us than we've made of them...The fine line between the dream state and reality is at times, for me, quite grey.

She had always lived her best life in dreams. She knew no greater pleasure than that moment of passage into the other place, when her limbs grew warm and heavy and the sparkling darkness behind her lids became ordered and doors opened; when conscious thought grew owl's wings and talons and became other than conscious.

Between the dreams of night and day there is not so great a difference.

I suddenly became strangely inebriated. The external world became changed as in a dream. Objects appeared to gain in relief; they assumed unusual dimensions; and colors became more glowing. Even self-perception and the sense of time were changed. When the eyes were closed, colored pictures flashed past in a quickly changing kaleidoscope. After a few hours, the not unpleasant inebriation, which had been experienced whilst I was fully conscious, disappeared. What had caused this condition?

Dreaming is to think by moonlight by the light of an inner moon.

In the drowsy dark cave of the mind dreams build their nest with fragments dropped from day's caravan.

Sleep hath its own world, and the wide realm of wild reality.

I think that in general it is a good plan occasionally to bear in mind the fact that people were in the habit of dreaming before there was such a thing as psychoanalysis.

They call me the trippy king.