I don’t know about any of that Atla. In recent dreams — Visions really — I am taken by boat across a placid lake at dawn. The rowers all intone a harmonious mantra which I feel celebrates my metaphysical attainments. Birds twitter over the water and the light of a magnificent sun turns the cloud edges bright silver.
All around me the scent of jasmine flowers is carried by caressing breezes . . .
On the other shore I ascend into a gold-festooned chariot and we proceed up a gentle incline to a temple that — ¡lo and behold! — was built just for me. Humbled but ever-curious, I find myself led through a forest of enormous crystals — amethyst and topaz and emerald crystals which glow with internal light.
It saturates my very being and I begin to
And when I wake it’s all still there, though screened back and like a perpetual and abiding filament.
To all appearances I reckon I am the phantasmic embodiment of Nietzsche’s Eternal Recurrence . . .
Well, in the same Vision un manifest voices, angels I feel, ask me to make a statement. I say:
Whew!“I have lost all sense of personal identity and am now firmly persuaded that Christ is actively and immediately present wherever Darkness or Hell is actual and real …”