You were reclining in Heaven, and you fell into a kind of reverie. You had a sort of dream that you were not where you were. You had a sort of dream that you had wandered off somewhere, and your reverie went on and on. Every now and then, you would turn over and open your eyes for just a moment, and then you would fully immerse yourself again in the dream. You were so deep into the dream, that you thought the dream was true, and you thought your vague recollection of reclining in Heaven was your imagination, or a myth you had once heard about.
Little by little, you are waking from your dream. Little by little, your eyes are opening. "Wow, that's some powerful dream I've been having!" you say as you rub your eyes. And then, before you know it, you've fallen back to sleep into the canyon of the dream that continued. There was so much evidence of this dream. All the other people in your dream had, more or less, the same dream, and also were certain it was true.
You would meet with seeming others in the same places. You would trip over a stone, and others would too. There were great edifices built that you and others went in and out of. There was grass to mow, aches and pains to feel, and beverages like water and milk. Everyone knew what soda was. Everything had a name in different languages. Your dream was generalized and particularized at the same time.
There were inventions dreamed of at the same time. New cars came out. People flew on airplanes. Dreams within the dream came true.
There were absurd dreams within the dream. There were arenas where men hit other men, and people came to watch and cheer. There were meetings where people in uniform shot at each other from a distance. Bombs burst in air. In the dream, such conflagrations were frowned on or glorified, and yet they continued, and the dream was rather considered as a matter of course.
There was spilt milk. There were mops. There were animals in such places as jungles, forests, and deserts.
There were bodies and hearts beating, and traffic and traffic jams and accidents on the multi-laned highways.
There were plays within plays and books and magazines with something called photographs. There were even picture shows.
Yet even within this mammoth dream, Reality peeked through. Rays of sunlight lit up the dream. There was such a thing as laughter and babies and children playing. There were mothers and fathers and love. Love even abounded. There was such kindness that it had to have come from some recollection of Reality.
There were oceans to swim in and a sky to look at, tans to get and rain to pour.
There were the five senses and varied degrees of what was seen as beautiful or ugly within them. The same sense, and varying opinions about what the senses revealed. Wasn't that amazing?
There were moments and hours and days, and this dream seemed long.
Pretty soon people wanted to wake up from this long-winded dream and get back to awakeness. It was never too late to get back nor was it ever too soon. Hearts could rise and bodies could leave, and even with the almighty bodies running around in this dream, there was awakening, and there was more and more until everyone could be awake even while they inhabited the dream, and then they could, of course, live happily ever after.