I write stories, you know? And I create these people and I can see them. I create their whole world. I know how they look, how they dress, what they would choose to eat on the menue. I know everything about them. I decide what's going to happen to them. I can give them magical powers or take them away. I can make them good or evil. I decide if they will live or die.

They are only imaginary to me. But, it's possible, I guess, that's it's like they have their own demension and I created it. So, maybe they are real somewhere living in their own reality. I give them life, and then when I'm done with the story, then what? Maybe their world goes on.

I think about this a lot. And how maybe we're just characters in a story. And God is just a story teller somewhere.

So yeah, reality is a strange thing....