with Life. We say, “I dreamed last night.” What a mistake is that! Soul never slumbered, or wandered into delusion.
The Ego is Soul, the direct opposite of sense, and there is but one Ego. The singular of Soul becomes plural as sense, wherein Mind seems to be multiplied into minds, error to be Mind, Mind to be matter, matter to be a lawgiver, unintelligence to act like Intelligence, and mortality to be the matrix of immortality. The hymn is right: —
| This life's a dream, an empty show; |
| But the bright world, to which we go, |
| Hath joys substantial and sincere. |
| When shall I wake and find me there? |
Mortal existence is a dream without a dreamer. It is the dream, that saith “It is I.” The Ego never dreams, but understands all things. It never slumbers, is ever conscious. It never believes, but knows. It was never born and never dies.
Sleep is a phase of the dream that Life, Substance, and Intelligence are material. The dream — not the sleep of this mortal existence — is nearer the fact of being than the waking thoughts. The dream has less matter as its accompaniment. It throws off some of our material fetters. It falls short of the upper skies, but makes its mundane flights quite ethereal.
The mortal body and mind arc one. This body is weary or pained, enjoys or suffers, according to the dream it entertains in sleep. When that dream vanishes, the man finds himself experiencing none of those dream-sensations. The body lies on the bed, in the mind's absence, undisturbed and sensationless.
