Death is the one certainty every human being shares, yet it remains the one reality we struggle most to accept....
THINK PAD
Death is the one certainty every human being shares, yet it remains the one reality we struggle most to accept. We spend our lives pursuing permanence while knowing that nothing in this world lasts forever. Why, then, do we cling so tightly to what is destined to fade? Are we misunderstanding reality, or are we simply convincing ourselves to accept a world that may be only a temporary stage in a far greater existence?
Perhaps the greatest illusion is not this world itself, but the belief that this world is all that exists.
When we dream, we rarely question the reality before us. We walk unfamiliar roads, speak with people who are no longer alive and witness extraordinary events without ever doubting them. Only when we awaken do we realise that everything we experienced was temporary. We then return to what we call reality, to the endless rush of daily life, to dreams fulfilled and dreams abandoned, and to a world that refuses to bend to our desires.
Yet an unsettling question remains. What if this life itself is another dream? What if death is not the end of our journey, but the moment we awaken to a reality so profound that everything we once believed to be certain fades like a dream at dawn?
The Qur’an reminds us: “The life of this world is only the enjoyment of deception.” (Qur’an 3:185)
This verse does not suggest that the world is unreal. Rather, it reminds us that worldly life is temporary and should never distract us from the eternal life that lies beyond it.
Our senses allow us to experience only a small portion of existence. We see only a narrow band of light, hear only a limited range of sound and perceive only what our minds are capable of understanding. Perhaps what we call reality is only a fragment of a far greater truth that remains hidden from us. Just as a dream feels completely real until we awaken, this world may be only a temporary reflection of a greater reality that has yet to be unveiled.
This idea has fascinated scholars for centuries. In Deliverance from Error, Imam al-Ghazali reflects upon the limitations of human perception and writes: “This possible condition is perhaps that which the sufis call hal (ecstasy), a state in which, absorbed in themselves and freed from ordinary sense perception, they experience realities beyond the reach of intellect.”
He then offers a profound reflection inspired by a well-known saying of the Prophet Muhammad (S.A.W): “Men are asleep; when they die, they wake.”
Al-Ghazali suggests that our present life, when compared with what comes after death, may resemble a dream. Only after death, he argues, might human beings perceive reality as it truly is.
The Qur’an echoes this possibility: “Today We have removed your veil, and your sight is sharp.” (Qur’an 50:22)
If this is so, then why do we devote so much of our energy to worldly pleasures while neglecting the soul that will outlive the body? What a tragedy it is that the body, which will one day return to dust, is pampered so carefully, while the soul, which journeys into eternity, is so often ignored. Such is the heedlessness of humanity that even the one who digs graves lives as though the graves were meant only for others.
Every person carries something they fear to lose: wealth, status, relationships or ambitions. We hold tightly to these things as though they might remain with us forever. Yet what does “forever” mean to a mortal being? How can someone whose own life is temporary truly possess anything permanently?
Perhaps this is where we go astray.
The philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche once observed: “The most dangerous form of blindness is believing that your perspective is the only reality.”
Whether viewed through philosophy or faith, humility begins with recognising that our understanding is limited. The universe did not begin with us, nor will it end with us. Our fears, ambitions and sorrows, though overwhelming today, may disappear with our final breath. Beyond that moment may lie a reality greater than anything our minds can presently comprehend.
The Qur’an declares: “Every soul shall taste death.” (Qur’an 3:185)
Neither king nor beggar can escape this decree. Dreams that once seemed permanent dissolve like the morning mist beneath the rising sun. Wealth returns to dust, names fade from memory and even the deepest sorrows perish with those who carried them.
The signs of impermanence surround us. The stars that illuminate the night are themselves temporary. They are born, they burn and they eventually die. Even our Sun, which has sustained life on Earth for billions of years, will one day exhaust its fuel. Mountains erode, oceans shift and civilisations rise only to fall. Everything within creation bears witness to change.
If the mountains crumble, the stars fade and every soul must depart, then permanence was never the promise of this world. Perhaps life is not an illusion in itself, but a brief passage between ignorance and understanding, between sleep and awakening.
And if death is indeed the moment when the veil is lifted and a greater reality is revealed, then one question remains:
When the final curtain falls and the dream comes to an end, will we discover that we were living in reality all along, or only in its shadow?
