The illusion that life is but a dream has occurred to quite a few people, and I feel the same way about it. When I see the limitations imposed on man's powers of action and inquiry and observe how all his efficiency is aimed at nothing but the satisfaction of his needs, which in turn has one purpose--to prolong his miserable existence--and when I see how all his reassurance on certain aspects of his inquiries is little more than a dreamy resignation, in that he chooses bedaub the walls of his prison with motley and bright prospects--all this, william, makes me mute. I turn in upon myself and find a world there, again more in a spirit of presentiment and dour longing than dramatically or with vitality. Then everything grows hazy in my mind and I go on smiling dreamily at the world.

Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
(excerpt from The Sorrows [& Joys] Of Young Werther)