my dreams have become so lucid that they're more emotionally filling than reality

entire enternal words, with their own rules and consequences. feeling so real that waking up sometimes surprises me.

they feel better than reality, isn't reality just our mutually agreed upon delusions anyway? i can tell what's real or not but i can't tell if my total reclusion has made be either a little insane or a little upappreciative of existence itself.