Everyone Goes to Heaven
In a dream, I saw a flood of souls moving to and from life with fluidity. The creative spirit self-assigned them each according to belief. The heavens were numerous. Everyone was on the same journey but their paths differed like tributaries of water. Seeking the sea, each moved in their own directions. Heaven looks different for everyone.
The scoundrels were there too. But greed was no longer a motivator. There was nothing for greed, except the wish that your soul was stronger. The seductions of power, wealth, lust and comfort had vanished. What had become of the souls who were driven by these needs became so real. They were droplets stuck in mud with no hope of reaching the sea until they were reabsorbed, lifted, and allowed to rain down once more.
I woke up thinking that it was fanciful dream. Could life really be that simple and complex at the same time? Could the repeating, intricate and yet simple patterns that we see in both the macro and micro universes, the same patterns we see in some perceptions of the world, be the exact same journey for our spirit?
Such foolish insights our dreaming selves create! But then, I am struck by the notion that once something is created, it has a life of its own. Whether it is an impression, a story, or the inspiration for another’s story, it goes out into the world and changes and grows, dissipates and dies. Or maybe it is just transformed into something else.
If heaven is eternal life, we all go to heaven in some form or another. This idea should comfort me more than it does. I am still too selfish to be ready to enter that cosmic mosaic.
When music moves me, I am transported to another world where I dance and spin and sometimes, “beneath a diamond sky with one hand waving free,” I am at one with everything.
Experiencing something is so different from creating it. When I create, I fuss over detail. I search for color. I can fly. I can expand or contract at will. Sometimes I worry about what will happen at the end of the flight because I am now responsible for how things work out so. How they resolve is a reflection of me. I was at least, in part, their creator.
In my dream, was I was given a glimpse from a different perspective or am I still an experiencer who feels the dance but does not know why?