That which is real exists only to ourselves, locked entirely within the sanctuary of the mind.
We can spend a lifetime attempting to reach and approximate what we imagine, yet a concept can never translate perfectly from the realm of thought into the physics of reality.
Something will always be altered, diluted, or transformed in the translation.
Even when the final creation exceeds our original vision, it remains fundamentally different from what was envisioned—simply because it became more rather than exactly what was held in the mind's eye.
It is, in every sense, one of humanity's greatest gifts and most dangerous curses.
It is a gift for the limitless wonders it allows us to behold in the mere blink of an eye, building entire worlds from nothingness.
Yet it is a curse for the vivid nightmares it can conjure from nothing more than a passing shadow or a floorboard creaking in the dark.
The imagination is a blade that must be deliberately sharpened and honed.
Left to dull and atrophy, it stops serving as a creative force and becomes our most relentless adversary.