Livin' the dream

I seem to live in a world of mirrors and smoke and - I don't know about you, but I am seriously starting to doubt my own sanity. I sometimes find it hard to know the truth from the dream and I can't always tell what's real.
Once upon a time my mind was a blank sheet of paper and I had to learn about life and all the nice surprises it had in store for me. I had to learn about lies, about mean souls, about falsity and hypocrisy. I had to learn to suffer, to endure, I had to know about meaningless affairs and hurt egos. I now look back and ponder, what was real and what was dream?
Sometimes my dreams seem more substantial than the actual life, sometimes life seems more frightening than the most horrifying nightmares.
Living in a world of empty promises (like empty colourful shells) is often good fun, but not for long, perhaps it is my Id that's playing up, I don't know.
I was thinking last night (with horror) that probably I will never realise when I will have lost my power to reason. The rice krispies don't talk to me (yet) but when they will do, perhaps I should get really worried, not because they will be talking to me, but because I don't actually have any in the house.
Perhaps I am only a brain in a vat (just like in that example used in the Sceptic Theory) - in a lab somewhere, and a mad (haha) doctor is transmitting via numerous connectors all the information so I live a dream... the dream of being alive. And all my life, as I said, is just a fantasy, just a world of dreams (good or bad), of mirrors and illusion.
I don't think I would mind that much, after all I would get to live a dream, even in this lousy sense of the word. And that, I think, it is the nearest I can get to it.