Was there a time in your childhood when fantasy and reality were not in binary opposition, when what you experienced was the same as what you imagined, when the universe traveling between your synapses was as real--or more so real--than the world in which you "really" lived? I remember that time. I remember not wanting to give it up. I remember crying when I realized that my life was not as exciting, beautiful and fulfilled as the existence I conjured through imagination. Would I be happier in that imaginary life? Or is happiness dependent on being able to experience grief, rejection, sorrow, pain? Or is happiness dependent on experiencing that binary opposition in the first place? If I have never known pain, how can I know pleasure? If have never known bad, how can I know good?