The real is that in experience which gives back to you more than what you put into it. But this means that you have a prereflective understanding of what it is that you put in, of the working of imagination and expectation, that you know exactly how far they go, that you recognise the 'feel' of their products, of your own makings, so that you immediately recognise when your boundary has been crossed, and also that you are able to 'read' beyond this boundary. Anything you can read you also could have written, only you don't have the computational power to have created it or to sustain it; what you know as the barrier between the imaginary and the real is the limit of your own power of freely imagining. So reality is the encounter with an imagination of transcendent power. Creative imagination is however a deep property of the subject, it can only ever arise from out of a subjectivity. But as for the subject, there cannot be two, since otherwise one would be the object of the other and hence not a subject at all. In this way something like idealism is inescapable in spite of every new attempt to get around it by way of a more cunning objectification. Every metaphysic, whatever its emotional and aesthetic tone, its serenity or apocalypticism, represents a complicit attempt at such objectification, there is no other jouissance.