Dreams are never Real

Since my childhood, I was having one large scale curiosity about dreams. I used to ask my mother how one can see dreams when they are sleeping. And, the answer was same every time, there is something inside all of us, which takes us to different realm after we sleep, and we call them 'God'. Though, I used to listen my mother very consciously, but the answers never satiated my hunger to know more about dreams. With the passage of time, I stopped asking silly questions to my mother, and started looking at things practically.
Crossing the barrier of childhood and becoming adult was a great achievement in itself, because I was completely involved in activities which every human being in order to survive (Studying, finding job, small time acquaintance with girls). But one thing persisted and didn't change with the course of time was my dreams.
The fairytale dreams of playing with cartoon characters, hours of sleep on the lap of my mother, buying lots of chocolates and eating voraciously changed to grown life events. Now, the dreams comprised of love, hatred, war, life, death and so on. And, every time either I was the hero or the victim of the scene.
Sometimes, I cried when the circumstances became out of control in my dream, and fear of death made me quiver. The subconscious mind was at all times worried about my mother, and feared that "what will happen to her, if I will die?" The thought of mother howling was more like a grief to me, and how can a son see mother crying.
I was constantly perplexed with these kind of dreams and thought to find solution, but in vein no achievement. Only achievement I felt was the night I had a noble dream. Lately, I realized the things you see before going to bed prevails your dream.
There were thousands of questions and no answer, and the only source of my answer, my mother had a sad demise. Now my dreams are gone, because I struggle to sleep. Even, the thought of dreams make me anguish.
After a year of suffering and mourning, I have found a reason to live, cherishing old memories. After all, Life and death is the creation by the same god who created dreams.