When people look back to the eras of old and fiction, places such as Camelot, the Roman Empire, the Olympian times where the one who bears the lightning was the one thought sworn to serve as guardian over Greece, it's hard not to contemplate how majestic, how mystic those eras were. The reason why they are common subjects of allusion is because they were the times where fantasy and realism were melded together like the individual bricks used to build a Medieval castle.
Allusion has become such a majestic treasure of literary significance because this world, in each passing moment, continues to unlock mysteries and find ways to explain how the world works. Every such moment is merely another mystery blanketed by the tasteless feeling of realism.
Which would sound more of the exciting type: that chicken pox actually comes from a virus that's easily contagious, or does it come from a demon lurking in the dark corridors of castle walls?
I believe everyone with common sense would know the proper choice.
Ironically enough, however, people persist in becoming the next hunter of answers to all of the different unknowns in the world. Lying under all that, is the death of another mystery contemplated by the complex machinations of the human mind.
It's like an eternal fire, and the mysteries are trees. People keep chopping them down to keep their fires of their reality alive, because otherwise they would not be living. People enjoy the colors of those trees, reminisce in their natural beauty. It gives the blazes of their souls wondrous colors of majestic purple, hopeful blue, passionate red, lively green, eccentric yellow, enthusiastic orange. Regardless, it is required of human nature to subconsciously continue chopping them down in order to keep it alive. Soon enough, all that will be left is a flat land of grass, littered with stumps to serve as the remnants, the remembrance of those pleasant colors once abundant in the branches.
And yet, people cannot live without those colors, otherwise souls would not have life anymore...
THE SOLUTION: An illusion.
If people cannot be surrounded in mysteries anymore, why not invent a world of their own, a spitting image of the Round Table where humble nobility gathers? And thus, from the stumps, allusion gives birth to illusion. It's how the colors of the soul remain vivid. People use allusion to bask in a fantasy of the forest of mystery. Allusions serve not only as the stumps of those stories of old, but also as a gateway to that time as well. Understanding it in any literary piece is a way to paint colors on the souls of many. That is why it is used so prominently in many wonderful works, because it not only sparks an illusion in the reader, but also gives them a glance into the author's colors of their soul.
Dreams make a painting of the flames in our souls. Realism allows them to continue burning.
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