I started eating a fortune cookie and didn't realize I'd forgotten to take the fortune out until I found myself chewing a mouthful of paper. I took the remains out and tried to read them but the words were mangled beyond recognition. Boo.
With dreamers, pure and simple, the imagination remains a vaguely sketched inner affair. It is not embodied in any aesthetic or practical invention. Reverie is the equivalent of weak desires. Dreamers are the aboulics of the creative imagination.
Feelings, I has them from time to time. They are like sponge cake and sponge flake and sponge steak and sponge sake and more. I was meaning to write up in excruciating detail more different kinds of emotions, somehow I'm an emotional floater.