reality confusion Quotes

was it a vision or a waking dream? Fled is that music--do I wake or sleep?

I have these realistic dreams and snap wide awake in the middle of the night. And for a while I can't work out what's real and what isn't... That kind of feeling. Do you have any idea what I'm saying?

It is not easy to distinguish reality from illusion, especially when one lives in a period of the great upheaval.

Things seemed to go back and forth between reality and imagination--except that it was all reality.

Any time you read the snide comments or people who have a hard time separating fictional television from reality, that's sort of just water under the bridge. It's easy to let that pass by if everyone in person is nice and warm.

It happened on 'Laguna Beach' where you don't know what's real and fake, and I saw cast members who couldn't distinguish what was real and what was fake anymore. It was kind of scary to see, so I kept them very separate so that I didn't go crazy.

How was I supposed to know what's real and what's not? It feels like I'm the only one who doesn't know the difference.

May we not then sometimes define insanity as an inability to distinguish which is the waking and which the sleeping life? We often dream without the least suspicion of unreality: 'Sleep hath its own world', and it is often as lifelike as the other.

I remember when I saw 'The Dark Knight' movie, and I was sitting there watching it, and there actually came one or two places where I had trouble divorcing myself from the reality of the locations because it was filmed in Chicago, and I know that city quite well.

But then there is the one who seems to have a hard time separating the actor's work from reality.

I'd seen the movie 'Paranormal Activity' and was convinced for weeks that it was real.

I think for a lot of people that are in performing arts, it's easy to fall into the trap of starting to confuse what's real life and what's not, because to your body it's all real.

I strained to remember where I was or even what I was wearing, touching my green corduroy jeans and staring at the exposed-brick wall. As my paranoia deepened, I became convinced that I had died and no one was telling me.

The problem is, I can’t tell what’s real anymore, and what’s made up.