A question that shouldnt be asked

As I was walking down a silent alley at the back of my house, i was thinking about whether Mr. Ashutosh Gowariker(a noted filmmaker) would reply to my emails, (I happen to be a not-so-noted, filmmaker). As thoughts about Mr. Gowariker flooded my mind, I was hoping that someday, someone in some back alley would be walking, thinking whether NIKHIL MAHAJAN, (i dont intend to sound BOASTFUL) would reply to his/her email.

But then I thought, how can I be so sure of my prospects as a filmmaker or whatever?
How can I even guarantee whether my very presence would be existant tomorrow...?
Well, a thought struck... There is no guarantee whether we will be alive tomorrow, whether we will reach home, safe and sound in the evening, whether we will be able to realise our dreams, whether we will be able to sleep at night to dream in the first place?

I am sorry if this seemingly philosophical (and outrageously boring) post is frustrating your brains, but then I thought, Why do we dream, If we are not sure we will be alive to realise them...?

After a lot of thought led me to a seemingly simple solution...
Some questions are not meant to be asked... Some things are meant to be felt...
Dreams are made of these... these things... which are felt... not seen, not heard, not talked about... just felt.

And then I realised... The question that led me to this theory, falls in the same category...

WILL ASHUTOSH GOWARIKER REPLY MY EMAIL?

Well it is a question I shouldnt have asked myself...