I hate those times when life feels like a dream.  And I don’t mean when it feels like a dream because something incredible is happening; I mean those times where you feel numb, like nothing is truly happening.  The moments where you contemplate opening the passenger door and falling out of the speeding car just because you honestly don’t think you’re awake, in real life.  Where you can sit, seeing everything, and feel like there’s something obscuring your vision; that there’s something incredible to be seen, but there’s some type of window sill that you’re looking through, and you’re sitting back merely watching, observing.  Then there are those times where I can’t decide whether I’m real or not.  That there must be something greater somewhere than just you and I, That we are more than we can even fathom, and have abilities greater than ever thought to be possible.  Maybe we’re not supposed to know the secrets of life yet. Perhaps it’s too early, that it’s already been determined who and when will discover something we’ve never been able to imagine. Perhaps this is a dream. Perhaps when we die, we really wake up.