It is often said that readers have no life, or that dreams are of the childish things that we leave behind as we grow older. Wishing on a star becomes laughable as the years go by, and hope only brings pain and disappointment. Of course, there are some exceptions, or we wouldn't have libraries full of fantasy, or charities trying ruthlessly to end world hunger.
Some choose to go along with it; to pat the dreamers on the head and go on with life, as so not to hurt their feelings. Some choose to crush the rainbow before it leaves the cloud, if only to avoid the trouble it may cause later on, claiming that hoping for a happily ever after won't bring it any closer.
But readers don't read because they have no life, but because they choose to live another. We don't dream to bring those dreams to life, but to escape the harshness of reality. We don't wish in hopes of it actually coming true, but for the sheer excitement and beauty of an alternate reality. And for those like me, we have a good reason to.