We are the aliens. We alternate ten-thousand years in the dreamworld with 80 years here. And spend every moment here homesick, trying to turn the material world into the dreamworld.
I do not wish, in any way, shape, or form, for my dreams to enter the material world. You ever have that dream where you spend hours picking chicken out of your teeth? How about the one where you need to pick up your great-grandparent's remains from a firebombed warehouse that is simultaneously in the middle of the city and surrounded by swamp? Or the one where a turtle comes out from under the stove, a spider starts stalking it, and every time you look away and look back they get bigger, then the turtle is a beetle, and then the spider finally catches the beetle by impaling it on 4cm fangs?
No? Just me? Fair.
Those are some far out dreams. But consider the more common dreams. Dreams of achievement, security, progress and acquisition. Dreams of domination, submission, escape, fear and hope. Dreams of every desire. These are the dreams that everybody dreams and loves every day.
You mean 'dreams' in the sense of ambitions, not nighttime hallucinations
I'd hesitate to draw a firm line between them.