The Doubt Of Existence

I see around myself and I see people craving for an escape. An escape from the reality which haunts them to their cores. The primal need of gratification lies within them. I ask to all those wretched beings, “Is your life really worth all the pains?? Are you sure that this all is real??” Rocking in my wooden chair, I think to myself, are we living a dream?? Or is this a reality??

I try to convince myself that this is real, where even molecular actions and wronged choices can have painful repercussions. But, what if, in the end, this all is just a dream? A moment suspended in time. A bubble waiting to be pricked. An eternity in space. Can it be possible that I started dreaming yesterday night and today never occurred? Or maybe that my whole life is just a mere dream.

I am deeply fascinated by an abstract idea that our whole lifetime is just the outcome of powerful subconscious. And when we die, we actually wake up in a space which is hanging between two different dreams and we fall back to sleep and start dreaming all over again. In other words, start living another lifetime. What if a person never really dies? What if we all are just asleep somewhere in the infinity? What if we all don’t exist and are the figments of imagination of a single supreme entity?

Many may refer to this entity as God, our Creator. As prophesied by the elders of our generation, “It is He who controls our destiny, our thoughts”. I’m enchanted by the thought that we are just a derivative of His vision, His vivid imagination. We don’t have our own existence. We are just some ripples scattered over His ocean of subtle subconscious.

I look at my hands, my face and my body. Do I really exist? Is my creator, sleeping somewhere in the distant space, has created my soul, which in turn is his dream. Is this body a shield which my creator has wrapped around my soul, to protect the eternal heart of his dream??

A traveller I am, tip-toeing between the lines of chimera and real world. I wish my thoughts are carried away in the dead of night and answers are reverberated to me by soft morning winds. Till then I consider the world around me as fake and I refuse to trust what I see. I wander in dusts, through hills I roam and wait for the day when all will be revealed.

I go back to ground zero, rocking in my chair I think to myself, Is this a reality?? Or is this a mere dream??