Sophie peered into the jar and there, sure enough, she saw the faint, translucent outline of something about the size of a hen’s egg. There was just a touch of colour in it, a pale sea-green, soft and shimmering and very beautiful. There it lay, this small oblong sea-green jellyfish thing, at the bottom of the jar, quite peaceful, but pulsing gently, the whole of it moving in and out ever so slightly, as though it were breathing.
“It’s moving!” Sophie cried, “It’s alive!”
“Of course it’s alive.”
“What will you feed it on?” Sophie asked.
“It’s not needing any food,” the BFG told her.
“That’s cruel,” Sophie said. “Everything alive needs food of some sort. Even trees and plants.”
“The north wind is alive,” the BFG said. “It is moving. It touches you on the cheek and on the hands. But nobody is feeding it.”
Sophie was silent. This extraordinary giant was disturbing her ideas. He seemed to be leading her towards mysteries that were beyond her understanding.
“A dream is not needing anything,” the BFG went on. “If it’s a good one, it is waiting peacably for ever until it is released and allowed to do its job. If it is a bad one, it is always fighting to get out.”
The BFG, Roald Dahl, 1982: p. 101-102.
For all you writers and dream-catchers out there. The dreams aren’t going away, so don’t stop catching them, labelling them, categorising them and storing them. And don’t stop blowing them in people’s ears – for people need to dream!