Bunuel_Luis_My_Last_Breath

Dreams and ReveriesF SOMEONE were to tell me I had twenty years left, andask me how I'd like to spend them, I'd reply: "Give me twohours a day of activity, and I'll take the other twenty-two indreams . . . provided I can remember them."I love dreams, even when they're nightmares, which is usuallythe case. My dreams are always full of the same familiar obstacles,but it doesn't matter. My amourfou~for the dreams themselves aswell as the pleasure of dreaming-is the single most important thingI shared with the surrealists. Un Chien andalou was born of theencounter between my dreams and Dali's. Later, I brought dreamsdirectly into my films, trying as hard as I could to avoid any analysis."Don't worry if the movie's too short," I once told a Mexican producer."I'll just put in a dream." (He was not impressed.)During sleep, the mind protects itself from the outside world;one is much less sensitive to noise, smell, and light. On the otherhand, the mind is bombarded by a veritable barrage of dreams thatseem to burst upon it like waves. Billions of images surge up eachnight, then dissolve almost immediately, enveloping the earth in ablanket of lost dreams. Absolutely everything has been imagined