Dream Until Reality Doesn't Exist

We dream to escape.

We slip into trances where everything goes our way and for a second there, everything seems perfect.

And then we get back to reality. Our dreams are fun and all, but they have one tiny fault: they frustrate you when they disappear. “Rich dreams which you are loathe to wake up from.” Because then we have to accept the fact that we’re back in the real world, where those things just don’t happen.

But the father has to come back to a reality, not just where those things don’t happen, but a reality where those things are “no longer known in the world.” Where they don’t even exist. And dreaming is the remedy, however small, with which he can escape his pain, anguish, anxiousness, and fear. Dreaming is his way of coping.

And then he wakes up.

And his mind is clustered by thoughts consisting of “How many days to death? Ten?” and the like.

A life where every hour is spent with the knowledge that you’re going to die and it’s only a matter of when. And I feel pity because even in this perfect (relatively) world, we know we’re eventually going to die but it seems so far away that we don’t give it a second thought. Well, most of us, considering when I was ten there was a period where everyday I imagined dying and the pain and the suffering and the overall gory-ness of it all. (I was not crazy, no matter how emo-friendly, weird, and strangely disturbing my ten-year-old mindset may seem).

The point being that even though with life comes death, and we all know it, we don’t really give it a second thought because we see death as we see a sunset. You can see it, you know it’s there, but you can’t touch it and it can’t touch you. Its an intangible concept that happens in the unforeseeable future. In the very faraway future. Basically, when you’re breaching on geriatric and the wrinkles sown on your flesh are so that they can tell a story.

And we have the sufficient amount of money to not give a crap about food and survival.

That’s just the way it is.