Where's the Line?

Waking up this morning was very odd.  I was sort of partially awake and asleep enough to still think my dream was real.  In my dream... I was riding my bike... no, not my bike, it was a different bike... anyways, I rode down to Mirabel.  There was some kind of family reunion... it was very realistic, for all the furnature was as it was after Granddad died, almost as if this were the get-together after his funeral.  Even the huge oak tree, which was there most of my childhood, was cut down (they cut down the tree right before they sold the house).  Numerous family members were there.  Ginny came down the long flight of stairs and gave me flowers... they were roses, very dark red, but they were dried, not alive, and the branches were arranged in this weird pattern....  For some reason I was under the impression she gave me flowers every time I saw her.  

As I began to wake up I started to make plans to thank her.  Took me a while to decipher between what was and wasn't real.  It made me realize -- the line between fiction and reality is so thin.  We call people crazy who are "seeing things," yet we pass into imagination every night in our sleep, we linger on it during day-dreams and even memories.  All that separates the common man from "insanity" is the ability to wake up, to come to grips with what's accepted as "real."  But what is reality?  I think I exist, but how do I know I exist?  Maybe I'm an advanced computer simulation for some creative creature in a 10-dimensional world.  "I think therefore I am" only goes so far.  Maybe I'm a though with thoughts in an almighty thinker.  Maybe all I know and all I am is the fleeting imagination of a giants dream. 

Gah.  I'm wandering.  "Maybe this" and "maybe that."  Whatever I "think,"  I have no way of deciphering existence; pondering and ranting will not change the state of the universe.  meh. this post is insanity... my apologies if it makes no sense...