173. Bless Me, That I May Know That I Am Dreaming, While I Think That I Am Awake
As we rest in sleep, wake in the morning to our daily round of desperate‐seeming, but only half‐conscious, activity, then fall back to sleep again at night — so also do we pass fleetingly from birth to life to death again, waking ever and again in new bodies, dashing about our appointments and other commitments, delighting in them or groaning at their importunity, then finding ourselves forced to leave everything at death’s next summons: dream after dream of ceaseless earthly struggles!
On the sleigh of incarnations we find ourselves sliding by hopes and disappointments; victories and failures; fulfillments and disillusionments. When the smooth snow of easy passage melts, and the underlying ice of insecurity breaks, we find ourselves plunged into heaving seas: eddies of gay then desperate laughter; Sargassos of cloying involvements; vast calms of indifference — ah! all, only dreams!
When at last I awoke in Thee, I discovered that I’d been dreaming all along! I’d only thought I was awake.