The desire to live in our imagination is driven by this suspicion that we're disembodied sensibilities cobbled into our bodies. That idea has infused most of human thought since the very beginning.
The disembodied spirit is immortal there is nothing of it that can grow old or die. But the embodied spirit sees death on the horizon as soon as its day dawns.
What really fascinates me is this need that is so strong now that if you read a work of the imagination you instantly have to say 'Oh what this really is is so-and-so ' reducing it to a simple formula.