Is it a dream or is it real? Sometimes, I wonder. May be - it's both. May be - it's my imagination. May be - it is nothing close to my perception. May be - it is what I think, exactly. Confused? Well, confusion has engulfed my mind as well.
The life seems to be an illusion sometimes. We live in an imagined reality. We perform in every bit of it to make it perfectly real. Aren't we?
I get up every morning and look outside the window; dry leaves over the bicycle shade take me to the world of Hansel and Gretel and then a sudden call from the 'real' world reminds me that my teeth need to be cleaned.
When I recollect the events of the day before, it thrills me. I start wondering about the self and feel if it was the truth that I lived or it was just a dream. Time seems to be all powerful and the self traverses through it.
I find myself anew every day and a few unanswerable questions encroach my thoughts... are we ourselves? What do we mean when we refer to ourselves? I wonder how many lives we live in a single life!
The mechanism of an action becoming a memory is amazing. The self oscillates between the past and the present and the mind thrives on believing the real by virtue of being rational. Every day of living appears to be a continuous performance and each day becomes a lived dream with the dawn of the next.
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