your life

Sometimes I wonder if life is really just a dream we collectively agreed to call reality. Before we know it, moments slip through our fingers the moment we got a hold. We wake up tired, for meanings we swear we felt moments ago. People enter our lives like symbols than certainties, leaving impressions deeper than logic can explain, and emotions feel more real than the world that supposedly contains them. If dreams can feel this heavy, detailed, and painfully beautiful, then what truly separates them from waking life?