It occurred to me that memories were like dreams; that the nature of a memory and the nature of a dream was the same. They were both visions in imagination. The dream and the memory were both mental images, the difference being that the dream was a series of passing images while the memory was an image solidified. What then was truly a dream? It was sleeping. It was daydreaming. But moreover, if indeed dreams were a result of images passing through the mind, then life itself was a dream, a waking dream, filled with the same symbolic dramas as those experienced in sleep or trance.

Shaman of Tibet by Heather Hughes-Calero