If all life is a dream, as the resonants words of the poet still sing in eternity, I wonder if to awaken is not the convenient thing to do.
Or at least to try?
Or at least to accept the mere possibility that this quotidianity, this succession of moments and breaths, do not signify life as it should?
Or does it mean that in order to wake up, we have to die?
“To die, to sleep…no more…”
If to die, is to sleep…are we dead? Is there a way to be reborn, without dying?
“To die before dying”, patiently repeats the Prophet.
“To be, or not to be…That is the question”.
Be, or not be.
“The world (and life) are real, when I am.”