When Zhuangzi wakes up from his dream, he is a butterfly captured by us; while when he sleeps, he is his own Zhuangzi, a free Zhuangzi. We live and may die forever. The world seems real but is always an illusion and an unattainable story. Nietzsche gains new life every time we read it, resurrecting in different forms again and again. We die and live while reading. We think we are pursuing reality, but in fact, reality is never within reach. Instead, we are firmly grasped by the illusion of reality and continue to sink. We dream towards death and gain the hope and life of life in death. Our world is an illusory world, everything is like a dream bubble, like lightning or dew.