Life is fragile like glass. It splinters, shatters and yet leaves no trace. To live in it, is like a virtual reality. One may apprehend traces of reluctance but is attracted towards it with all the usual fanfare.

It may take a long time to realize that the world one is looking at and feeling at ease does not exist at all except of course, in one’s imagination.

And, imagination is indeed a tricky word. At times, it is so fertile, it is hard to distinguish from reality- which appears so bland and distant with all its shrouds of realness. Crowded by the realms of real self, one tends to look at this world in old belligerent manner, quite different from those dreams that we encounter not just in the darkness of night, but which shine in our face in the harsh sunlight as well.

But, life is not a dream, one day the bubble bursts and one crash lands on the cemented floors of reality, hurt with broken heart and bleeding soul. The man realizes his folly. The myth of life is broken and he realizes the fact that the way he was living was meaningless and he has to begin his journey again, if he wants to reach his destination.

But, destination is again a tricky word. How can a man, who has lost his way and is clueless about his very next step, be able to define the goal of his life?

Isn’t it easier for a man to immerse himself in dreams again and forget about reaching the ever-deluding, incomprehensible final destination? Is it fair to talk about the final goal, without ever discovering the joys and sorrows of the journey, called life?

Till the death separate us from this make-believe world, let us be a part of this dreamy sequence, where everything is shrouded in mystery and has a filmy aura. I love my dreams and content to live in this beautiful mythical world, waiting for my final instructions.