In considering my experience of awareness of life as the same as my experience of my awareness within a dream, which is only the shape my awareness is taking that I’m experiencing and not an awareness of an external, independently existing reality, I begin to move toward an attitude of acceptance. Not an acceptance associated with giving up or throwing in the towel but rather of seeing anew. If all experience is the shape my awareness is taking then everything is a magical creation of my awareness seen as the experience of Dylon. If it is all as ethereal as the content of a sleeping dream then my perspective changes from thinking that I must work to alter my physical surroundings to conform to my ideal to one of standing in awe of all that is as a phenomenal creation of My mind. Somehow every bit of this experience I’m having is a creation just like I comprehend a sleeping dream and nothing is here by accident. It’s all here by invitation. Nothing is wrong. Nothing is right. Everything just is but it’s all here by My “hand.” As I write this my perspective is shifting from one of judgment to one of appreciation for every detail of this creation. It isn’t that I need to change this experience to some other experience that’s better but rather that all experience is as equally magical as any other experience. Suffering occurs when I think my experience is deficient compared with any other experience. No real satisfaction from the achievement of any other experience ever happens because there is no real difference between any two experiences. Appreciation isn’t experienced only when something I desire is experienced but rather is present always and once understood life does not need to become something other than what it already is. The perfection of this imagined creation all around me is as perfect as any other imagined creation. I knew this when I arrived. It took the entirety of my life to learn something was missing and for me to feel incomplete in its absence. I’m here to remind you, to help you remember, that there isn’t anything missing and there isn’t anything outside of you that will make you whole. You are already that which you seek, you’re just pretending to have forgotten.


Turning Point

It occurs to me that I’m still here in this reality wanting an experience of this reality as something other than what it is so that I’ll feel better. I think if it goes a certain way I’ll feel better. Scheinfeld gave a great example that he teaches because he enjoys the act itself and that’s the ride he came to ride. He has no concern for the outcome of his endeavors but rather savors the experience regardless of its content. This is how I perceive the game played or experienced at its best. In hindsight I’m not sure I believe he actually had the experience he claimed to have. That’s my experience though and I can’t possibly know what he experienced. Even more, he appears in My dream as My creation by My invitation. He is whatever he appears to be by My “hand.”

This is the turning point. This is the point upon which all else hinges. You out there acting and being independently of me over here acting and being is the polar opposite to me here and you there as a single, unbroken creation of Me. This creation of Me is a scene in the Mind of Me unfolding like a scene upon a screen. It’s just one “thing,” the scene upon the screen, which appears to be many independent things but is only ever the screen. Like the characters on the screen I am not causing or responsible for anything. Cause and effect appears to exist but it’s an illusion. An illusion I cannot circumvent but its meaning is changed, utterly. In that change I do not evade nor escape the illusion but the perceived need to escape vanishes. The desire for the appearance of magic morphs into an awareness that magic is all there ever is. A longing for something different within the appearance recedes as the appearance is apperceived to be one phenomenal magical rollercoaster ride. My hands come off the “wheel” as I comprehend that it’s all a ride of imagination going wherever it goes, every part as fantastic as every other. None of it is what it once appeared to be. One part won’t make me whole and another part won’t diminish my being. All perceptions of need vanish. Play for the sake of play emerges. Freedom becomes my all.


The question of free will arises. Do I have free will? I certainly have the appearance of free will. Yet I’ve encountered so many sound arguments of why free will is an illusion and must be. Does it matter? The ride is the ride it appears to be. It is all an appearance and I’m none the wiser. Does it matter? I’m enjoying the unfolding. Do I care if I was lead here or found it of my own free will? Would the enjoyment I feel be any different? If this is all a dream isn’t every bit of this contemplation within the dream? Aren’t all the factors I would consider and even the consideration itself an aspect of the dream? Nothing falls outside of the dream. Everything I’m experiencing that feels like some kind of guidance or inspiration from some unseen, unknown force is an aspect of this dream. My awareness of this as a dream is the dream. I can’t ever get outside of this dream if such a place exists. As long as this dream persists this dream is all. And if this is all a dream isn’t it fantastic? If whatever I am beyond this dream is somehow dreaming all of this right now isn’t this incredible? If I’m awake within the dream to witness the immense, intricate detail of my creating isn’t this phenomenal? When one considers the miraculous is there one moment of this experience that could be labeled anything less? Doesn’t that leave me in a state of awe at all that is? The miracle isn’t some magic waiting to appear it is this entire experience of me.


This whole thing is a dream dreamed by Consciousness. There is only the dream. There is no reality outside or other than the dream. You and I are the dreamer dreaming. You and I can’t die, we can only wake up. One way or another we all always wake up. I am this whole dream. I am every character and every scene and all that is within it. I am the sky and the earth. I am the cosmos and the microscopic. I am the building blocks at every level and the ethereal ungrasped. I am the idea and the construction. I am success and I am failure. I am the whole dream and my appearance as this character is a thinly veiled illusion and my knowing as the whole dream is always present but I’m pretending to have forgotten. In the mystery of mysteries everything I claim for myself is also claimed and true for you. I am the central character of my dream and you are of yours. How? I’m dreaming; I can’t explain the dream. How do I know? I don’t know but I know I know. You know too but for now you’re pretending to have forgotten.