Hear Me. You believe in apparitions. All of the people in your life, no matter how dear and real to you, were and are apparitions. You thought you saw them. You knew them by your senses. Their hearts touched your heart. You held their hands. They nourished you, or they didn’t nourish you. You heard their sweet voices or their rough voices, their touch, gentle or whatever it was. There is no question that these apparitions from the past meant a lot to you and mean a lot to you now. You remember them, and your heart continues to be assuaged by your thoughts of them wherever they may be. In any case, they become sad memories to you, whether they are still on Earth or in Heaven. Even long-lasting memories are fleeting.

People were always so real to you. They are real to you now even as you glimpse they are figures in a dream. The dream is still here. You believe in what was perpetrated upon you in a dream, so real-seeming it was and still is to you. The dream holds you in a vise, and your heart aches one way or the other. You hold to the dream. You set it before you time and time again. You feast on the beauty of the dream or the irksomeness of it. The past dreams are very much upon you even as daily new ones rush in or creep in, whatever the case may be.

If you live in a prison, this is naught but dream. If you live in a castle, this also is a dream. All of this in the wilderness or in a high-rise is a mere dream that you blink at and believe in mightily.

So is the nature of life in the world. It transports you to a fragile reality that perpetuates a fraud upon you. The dream is a scam, yet you feel that that is all you have to go by. Even as this is a dream, it is your dream, and it is precious to you. Even an old report card is precious to you. A picture of a grandmother you never knew is precious to you. All the memories are precious to you. You hang on to them. You hang on to them for dear life, for, as best you know, these memories of dreams are your life, even as you -- unbeknownst to you -- watch them on a screen. You believe they are essential to your very existence, yet they are a passing breeze.

Well, your recollections of your dreams are essential to your existence on Earth at this time. Where would you be without them? Your life here on Earth is a picture-book, a simple hand-drawing, yet not always so simple to you. Life on Earth seems like something to figure out.

Sometimes you would like to forget, yet it is hard to get past all these voices that call to you. Pick out My Voice, for I am real. I exist. Just as you do exist and exist within Me. There never was an end to you, nor a beginning. We always were. In My thoughts, you always were and are. We always were One and are One. We are fast companions, you and I, and you are the Love of My Life.

We are Reality. There is your little imagination, and there is the Big Truth of Us. And yet you may spend so much conscious time without remembrance of Me, yet you remember an imagined picnic in the park where you had lots of ice cream.

Life plays tricks, doesn’t it seem to? Even so, deep down, you are familiar with True Reality. You and I, We know each other very well. Deep down, you know everything of count, yet you are timid to go there. You may think it’s foolhardy to know the dream for what it is because without it, it may be that you, the little you, doesn’t exist. I am telling you that you are always My Self, and, in Reality, you are never less. Hear Me.