My arm is dull with pain as I wake.
The hour is 2:48am.
I swing my legs over the edge of the bed and squeeze my left shoulder. I stand up and move slowly towards the bathroom. My chest feels heavy, my breathing labored.
I stand in front of the toilet for some time, and then, suddenly, I feel the cold linoleum floor against my cheek and lips.
Red, yellow, and green waves ripple gently in the distance of my mind.
I breathe haltingly as I emerge from the kaleidoscopic cloud. My body feels heavy, but not burdened, as I press myself off the ground and onto all fours.
I see a light, if it can be called that, and it washes over me like water passing over rocks in a stream. I see no light source, nor shadow. I wonder how that can be as I scan the horizon in search of the sun. I find nothing but light and more light.
I instinctively squint and move my hand to my brow, but soon realize that my eyes feel not the least bit overwhelmed by the brightness. I lower my hand and relax the muscles in my face before opening my eyes as wide as possible. No pain.
The light is very different than the warm yellow hue I’ve always known. It dances with colors and shapes and sounds. I feel the light. It pulsates with life as it moves through and around me. I wonder, for a moment, if the light is in me, or if I am in it…or both. The light is (I cannot explain how this is) an emotion, a passion welling up within me.
The light is joy.
I’m fully awake, though I can’t remember ever having fallen asleep. I don’t feel sore or tired as I rise to my feet and examine my surroundings. I feel calm, well rested, and hungry. I recall something like a dream, but only faintly. Like a nightmare, but no dread, fear, or sorrow. I struggle to recall what I think is a memory of misery, but the more I grasp at the memory, the more it dissipates in my mind.
I raise the palms of my hands in front of me, and see in them something like glory. What is a hand with no wrinkles, yet still creased and faintly painted with scars? There is a moral element to the comprehension of myself, and something else besides. I’ve never seen anything like it, and yet I recognize it immediately as I roll my hands back and forth to examine more closely. Here is true flesh. I’ve never seen myself more clearly, nor loved myself as I do in this moment…in this place.
There is a beauty in my body that I’ve never known. It feels foreign, yet completely my own. I love what I see as I behold my legs, arms, and feet, what I feel as I touch my face and torso. And yet, I feel no pride or vanity as I enjoy the comprehension of myself. I’ve never seen such beauty in a person, and it’s odd beyond measure to see it for the first time in myself.
A strange realization fills my mind as I consider my body in the light. I am naked. And yet, I am not. I feel clothed. I have no fear of being seen in my present state. I feel that, were I to be seen in my current condition, I would be deeply loved and fully accepted, that my beauty would be taken in and appreciated by the beholder, whoever he may be.
I move and stretch, though I feel in no way stiff or restricted. My movements soon find cadence and rhythm, though I am not conscious of any attempt to practice what I would have once called dance. There is a poetry in my movement; in the shape, the pattern, the logic of my various members, their individual and corporate articulation. Without effort, every joint is in perfect harmony with every other. Every part of my person glides together perfectly in this place.
To my great delight, I find that I enjoy the air filling my lungs with an intensity I’ve not known heretofore. I inhale deeply.
I realize, now, that the light has been growing steadily brighter, and deeper, and louder, and heavier, since the moment I first opened my eyes. How can that be?
I pause, observe, wait.
“Will the light dim?” No. It only increases. Perhaps my capacity to observe the light has been increasing all the while.
I am utterly unaware of how long I’ve been awake. I have trouble thinking in the terms I’ve always used to describe my experience of time: day, week, year; season, age, epoch. I know these words, but know not what they mean. I experience a momentum acting upon my body, or perhaps within my body. I’m moving towards something, yet I know not what.
Is this…time?
As the question arises in my mind, I begin to experience a sense of curiosity, and I notice the sensation growing steadily with each passing moment. I hunger to know, to understand, to experience. Is this the hunger I felt when my eyes first opened in this place? I thought I wanted food, but food seems like a distant memory now. I am hungry to open my mind to this place, to consume it, to understand it, to extract every ounce of nourishment it offers my soul.
Yes, my soul…
I feel drawn…inexorably drawn. A current moves me. I’m drawn…not to walk, per se, but to think, to see, to feel, to taste, to move. My heart must move, must travel out and around in every direction. As this desire begins to boil within me, the new world materializes more clearly before my face.
What do I see?
It’s hard to say. Something like a garden, or perhaps a forest, but more luscious, green, and verdant than any forest I’ve ever known. I feel at once a sense that what I perceive can’t be real, and that it must also be realer than anything I’ve known before. I realize, now, that I’m on earth, though that word seems almost an insult to this place.
The vision of this new world foments memory.
I remember that, in my sleep, I was a traveler upon the earth, yet disconnected from it. Alienated. How strange is that idea now, here, in this place, where I feel so perfectly at home.
This world is bigger than me. And yet, I am, in some mysterious sense, greater than this world. In what way exactly I cannot yet explain, but I know it to be true. This world is mine. I will rule and reign in this place, and I will create joy by the might of my authority. The dirt will not be clawed to life, but will obey my will and every desire. And my desires will be pure. My craft will be the multiplication of glory.
What does it mean to see, to touch, to hear in this world? These sensory experiences were once distinct to me, but now they bleed together, such that I could not rightly tell you what it means to taste. And yet, my tongue is alive with flavor.
The air I breath brings rich and powerful sensations to my soul. The same air passes over my flesh, whatever that may be, and brings with it joy and rich delight. I can hear this world, but the sound is unlike any music I’ve ever heard. Or is it? The choir of creation cries out to me from every direction, simultaneously a whisper and a thunder, with perfect syncopation to every other sensibility I’ve come to comprehend here.
I am growing in my awareness of a deep delight, richly ricocheting through my body, coursing through my extremities, and vibrating down my core. I find, also, that it takes no effort whatsoever to comprehend and meditate on my experience of these delights. They do not slip through the fingers of my mind like grains of sand.
I feel no fear that this bliss will ever end. To the contrary, my heart fills with hope at the thought of my own future delight. I expect, boldly, to know more and more of this felicity as I continue in this place. The enchantment of my soul, I somehow understand, has only just begun.
I see in the distance, how far I cannot say, a great body of water. As I move towards it, I see something like sapphire blue, and then gold. The gold is clear and bright and vibrant. I bend over to peer into the waters, and find on their glassy surface the reflection of my own face.
I weep.
I am undone by the beauty of what I behold in this liquid mirror. There I am, unlike myself in every way, and yet, I am me. I see, for the first time, the glory of creation; the light of life, reflected in my face like the beauty of every good thing all at once.
How can it be, that in me, resides the glory of the cosmos?
How can it be, that in my face, the resplendence of divine love radiates?
My weeping turns to laughter. Or does it? I laugh and cry simultaneously. My laughter is weeping, my weeping is laughter. The depth of joy feels, in some sense, utterly inexpressible. And yet, it isn’t. In this place, I seem to possess the physical capacity, at a guttural level, to not only experience, but also communicate, a depth of joy I could have never imagined in the dream world.
And it was a dream, was it not?
As I wade into the waters, I find myself growing in the awareness of the presence of another being. No, near is not the right word, though I cannot think of something more appropriate. I am in the presence of someone, though I cannot comprehend who.
I find myself drawn deeper into the waters.
Deeper.
Deeper.
Deeper.
Finally, I am under the water.
I feel no fear, panic, or pain. Only love.
I breath in the waters, in shallow breaths at first, but then in gulps. I strain to take in as much of the water as possible. What love is this? With each breath, I feel myself moving more deeply into the presence of the one who now seems to be a part of me. I am in him, and he is in me.
What does it mean to swim in the soul of the divine?
The weight of his love bears down on me, even in the waters. Especially in the waters. And yet, I do not buckle under the unbearable pressure of this love. The sensation brings the feeling of comfort, peace, and safety. I see clearly through the waters, and what I see astonishes me. There is no darkness in the depth of this ocean. The deeper I go, the more illumination I find.
Down
Down
Down
I soon realize that there is a fire at my feet. The flames crawl up through the waters and lick my legs and torso, but I do not burn. They consume me, but I am not consumed. I whirl in the fire, dancing in it, synchronized to its eternal cadence. As I descend deeper into the watery furnace, I begin to see something like a face.
As soon as I perceive the image of the One, I feel every fiber of my being strain outward in exhilaration. I am stunned by the transcendent glory. This is the One whose beauty my face reflected on the surface of the waters above. I see now that all of the light, all of the water, all of the fire…they are all his glory. I live and move and have my being…in him.
I behold his face, and stare unflinchingly into eternity. The eyes of my heart open wide to absorb the weight of his glory. The more I behold, the more my capacity to behold increases. My soul expands, and I am lost in the many worlds I comprehend in his countenance. And then I notice, to my astonishment, that he is beholding me. He sees me entirely. His gaze captures my being from every angle, in every dimension, and in all possibilities. I see, in his vision, the fact that he has always seen all of me.
What is it I see in his face?
I seem to remember a faint shadow of this expression from my dreams. A look of satisfaction. Pleasure. Delight. I grasp for that dream, but am quickly drawn back to the present. It seems that the present is all there is in this place, all that I can comprehend.
And then I hear it.
Somewhere in my soul, I perceive the voice of him who made me, who sustains me…even now. I feel his voice, as if he were writing on my spirit with his finger. I savor his speech, like a sweet honey comb dripping down into my heart. I delight in the song of his soul as he speaks to me a poem without words, a love song from the mind of his Spirit.
He says that he is well pleased with me, that he delights in my soul, that he rejoices in my presence. Even me. Especially me. Because, in me, he sees himself. I am his mirror. I reflect his glory, and he delights to behold the effulgence of his nature.
As I feel his words penetrate me, I feel the force of a mighty army coursing through my members. I’m given up to utter abandon as my soul experiences the ecstasy of being enjoyed by my maker. I am destroyed, and then remade, by this thought. He receives me. He welcomes me. He loves me forever.
What is this love?
I cannot tell you. You must live in this world, you must breath in the atmosphere. You must behold, you must inhale his presence before you can hope to understand. The pleasures of the dream world could not have prepared me for what I experience here in the forever now.
I sense, not only that I am loved, but that I am in the presence of love. The light that flows within me, the water that washes over me, the fire that burns through me, manifestations each of his love, which is his glory. I feel myself expanding to receive more of him into my soul. With every ounce of increase comes greater comprehension of his worth.
He is worthy to be praised in the highest, and he shall be, in my enjoyment of him forever.
I’m no longer falling, sinking, drifting to the bottom of the waters. I now stand on solid ground. More solid than the ground upon which I woke. A vision opens up before me, and I see another world. A darker world. A world utterly devoid of the light of glory. I turn my face away. To behold this is to behold a misery my new body cannot comprehend.
And yet I see.
My soul vomits as I behold those consigned to eternal misery.
I see vessels, and something like white hot magma poured into them. The vessels cry out day and night, begging for the waters of my world. I search in vain for a pool from which to draw the waters of relief to share with them.
And then I see myself, there, in that place. I feel their misery in my soul, the pain of their isolation, the sheer blackness of their forever night. My soul shatters into a thousand pieces, and I die.
And die again.
And again.
I never stop dying in that place.
And then the vision folds down into a speck before me and evaporates into a million microscopic embers.
I’m now seated at a table where I remove my face from my hands. I look up to see a man sitting across from me. I know, at once, who he is.
I am unable to speak, still stunned to silence by the horrors of my vision. My savior speaks to me, and as soon as I hear his voice, I know that he is the one who saved me from that place.
I leap over the table and cast my arms around his shoulders. I sob into his chest and squeeze his neck for dear salvation. I tell him of my vision. I confess my fear of ever going to such a place as he has shown me.
I know, somehow, that I deserve to be there.
I know, somehow, that the black abyss is rightfully my home.
I know, somehow, that he has rescued me from justice.
I know, somehow, that he himself suffered in that place that I might be with him here and now.
His strong hands soothe me. His tender heart consoles me. His precious words assure me.
He tells me that my dreadful vision was necessary to increase my joy in this place. That to fully appreciate this world of mercy, I must comprehend the justice of pure destruction. He tells me that the riches of the glory of paradise must be set against the black backdrop of wrath.
I ask him if this memory will be with me forever.
It will.
And my joy will be greater for it.
As I take my seat at the table once again, I hear the footfall of another soul. And then another. Soon, a cacophony of steps fill the great hall where we recline at table. I see a myriad of lights moving towards us, singing as they sway into our midst.
I realize, now, that we are seated directly in the middle of an oddly shaped table. It stretches out and around us, in a maze like structure, wherein every soul that reclines here is able to see the face of every other soul with unobstructed vision.
The lights turn to bodies the longer I behold them, and the loveliness of the saints washes over me. Here, I know, are my brothers and sisters. My forever family. They sing their song to me, and to our savior, and to one another.
He is worthy, most holy one
He is glory, the glorious son
—
He is mercy, the risen Lamb
He is justice, the great I AM
—
He is reigning, the mighty King
He is Jesus, let heaven sing
—
The sound of their voice is like many running waters, all thundering the same sweet song eternally. Their melody moves through my members, and I find my heart harmonizing with their praise. I adore the sound of their many voices, each distinct, yet belonging to one another.
In their love for the savior, their love for me is complete. I love them each in turn as I behold the beauty of his glory in their faces, enjoy the beauty of his glory in their voices, and feel the beauty of his glory in their presence.
We feast now, on the food of our strong affections. We drink the wine of intimacy, and break the bread of sweet devotion.
After what seems to me to be eons of dancing and delight in this, the mansion of my family, I am struck by the fact that I have not seen my savior for quite some time. And yet, I have.
In every face, I see the radiance of his glory.
In every smile, I behold the fullness of his perfections.
In every warm embrace, I experience the embodiment of his love.
I am his, and he is mine,
Father, Son, and Spirit; love divine, love divine.
I in him, and he in me,
Blessed, perfect, holy; Glorious Trinity.