We live in so many different worlds: the physical world, where the contours of reality are defined by natural laws and shaped by our actions; the hopeful world, an imagined and plausible construct where our hopes and dreams meld to form a semblance of reality; and the fantasy world, a chimerical creation forged upon frivolous impulses, hidden desires and unusual visions.

Reality can be upsetting and disappointing, at times. Asymmetrical treatment, herculean expectations, abrupt betrayals, unparalleled challenges, mercurial relationships, shape-shifting priorities, frivolous promises, debilitating losses, as well as other vagaries of life, can blunt even the strongest of spirits.

This is where our worlds of imagination come into play. Their reality, or lack of reality, is not important. What is important is that they are there. They provide an alternative representation of life - a refuge against the painful reminders that life isn’t always a bed of roses, a chance for a better tomorrow as we continue to hold life to its unfulfilled promises. They inject meaning to our lives. They do not exist, and perhaps that is all that matters.

And what is it that sustains them?

It is hope - the imaginary flower that blossoms in the thunderstorm of drenching fear, in the winter of paralysing loss, in the cusp of unexpected change.

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