Does it make you unfit to live a normal life when you are dwelling on strange ideals?
Do you go through comparing your real life experiences with those imagined? And is that a bad thing always?
I am at peace listening to a flute solo right now as I type this. If I take the headphones off the clicking of keyboards around me rises to a crescendo and I am lost to this. So, the music is an aid to the peace I am seeking. I could term this as an example of good ideals because it is a real state of mind.
But books? Will I be measuring my life against the quiet heroism of my favourite characters, measure its pace against the despair and speed of plots, matching real relationships with those that heroines and heroes achieve, let my wisest authors set forth the factors I judge my successes against.

I look around me and the realities of things bewilder me.