Life Is But A Dream

Most of us know the children’s nursery rhyme that’s referred to in the title. It’s often sung as a round, which accentuates the seemingly endless, sometimes painful, cycle of what the song calls our ‘dream life.’

The reason we gravitate towards the lyrics is because we know intuitively that they’re true. We can verify them by first looking at the nature of dreams.

All the surreal situations, landscapes, creatures, and characters of the dream world, including ourself and our thoughts, are all a creation of the dreamer, that is, of our own mind. Although this is obvious upon waking, we interact in this dream world as if everything is real.

If we take this model, of mind creating the dream world, into the waking state, who or what is creating the waking reality – the situations, landscapes, creatures, and characters, including ourself and our thoughts? It couldn’t be our mind, as all objects, no matter how subtle – this includes thoughts and images – are temporary and limited, thus not truly real.

All objects, all appearances, have to be a creation of something prior to their existence, something that knows all appearances, yet does not come and go with them. This something cannot be precisely named, but we know that it exists because, through inquiry, by simply noticing, we’ve discovered for certain that we exist, that we are something prior to any appearance of mind, body, or world. We can call it awareness, consciousness, or divine spirit.

Consciousness, or awareness, creates what we assume to be our own waking world, but the idea, the sense that we are an individual traveling through life, is just another creation of consciousness. (Thank you, Annabelle, intrepid traveling companion!)

Rupert Spira has said that all appearances announce the presence of awareness. All objects, though they appear to be created by different levels of mind in either the waking or dream state, are solely the children of awareness. Are birthed, nurtured, and sustained by awareness until the illusion of this being human dissolves back into the eternal and infinite consciousness from which it came.

And then, even the idea of the eternal and infinite is absorbed in the embrace of the unnamable. All is silence. All is peace. All is love.