such were the images which paraded before my eyes

the realities of the world affected me as visions, and as visions only, while the wild ideas of the land of dreams became, in turn, - not the material of my every-day existence - but in very deed that existence utterly and solely in itself.

edgar allan poe - berenice - a tale - 1835


here began for me what i shall call the overflow of dream into real life. from this point on, everything at times took on a double aspect - without, however, my reasoning powers thereby ever lacking in logic and without my memory loosing the least detail of what was happening to me.

gérard de nerval - aurélia - 1855


balzac much admired this sublime leap of imagination which soared across intervening reality and arrived directly at the object of fantasy, regardless of all difficulties of time or place..... it was simply the intensity with which he (nerval) projected the dream, the power he had to create something beyond the limits of time or actuality; it was, so to speak, an almost tangible vision, and it was eventually to find its conclusion in his pathological hallucinations.

théophile gautier - the poet (on gérard de nerval) - 1867

(gérard de nerval - image, title)

it does not permit itself to be read (interval of a glance)

david lean: oliver twist, 1948, dp: guy green

as the night deepened, so deepened to me the interest of the scene; for not only did the general character of the crowd materially alter (its gentler features retiring in the gradual withdrawal of the more orderly portion of the people, and its harsher ones coming out into bolder relief, as the late hour brought forth every species of infamy from its den,) but the rays of the gas-lamps, feeble at first in their struggle with the dying day, had now at length gained ascendancy, and threw over every thing a fitful and garish lustre. all was dark yet splendid-as that ebony to which has been likened the style of tertullian.
the wild effects of the light enchained me to an examination of individual faces; and although the rapidity with which the world of light flitted before the window, prevented me from casting more than a glance upon each visage, still it seemed that, in my then peculiar mental state, i could frequently read, even in that brief interval of a glance, the history of long years.

from poe's the man in the crowd, 1840

(i remember reading this in film school for the quality of cinematic perception found within, as pointed out by steve anker)