Back to Heaven: The Death of the Ego
One night, when I was fifteen, I dreamed I was chasing a black rabbit running through a wheat field, and I realized that a giant eye was watching me from the sky. When my gaze met its stare, fixed right above my head, I began to rise, passing through what seemed like a tornado at the center of its pupil.
Up there, inside the pupil, there was a vast garden where it seemed a fair or banquet was being prepared: long tables set beneath the trees, and many people decorating the branches with colorful spheres resembling fruit.
In front of me appeared a guard, standing before a metal detector like those in airports. Suddenly, I was wearing my school backpack, and he asked to inspect it before letting me in. I told him I didn’t mind. When he checked it, he found a revolver inside. I was baffled and told him I didn’t own any weapons and had no intention of harming anyone. He said he believed me, but he would have to keep it in order to let me pass. That was fine with me, as far as I knew, the weapon had nothing to do with me.
Inside, I was welcomed by a Being — neither man nor woman — bald-headed, radiating solemnity, peace, and wisdom. They spoke to me about many things regarding myself and my life; I remember they laughed heartily at my remarks, and I felt as if I were under some sort of “truth serum.” They told me that my life’s mission should be to take great care of a person who has always been indispensable to me.
After speaking of things only my soul could remember, they said I should return to fulfill my responsibility. Feeling embarrassed, I told them I didn’t want to leave because I felt so much peace in that place… “How can I come back here?” I asked. With their gaze fixed on my bag, I noticed they had returned my weapon — the one I never had — and I remember saying, half-jokingly, “Haha, so… I just shoot myself?”
Their serene eyes and gentle smile… woke me up.
