In the dreaming, time stands still, and then flashes ahead, an approximation of eternity.

In the dreaming, I have noticed that I have died, several times, but never looked down.

In the dreaming, light is as pure as the first instant of creation, unmixed with solid things.

In the dreaming, I fell and fell, and I could not wake, and the feeling became as like a womb.

In the dreaming, there is no wind I have ever felt, as if all the air was less than imaginary.

In the dreaming, I leaped high and walked on air, and vowing to use my power for good.

In the dreaming, the shadow of death is like so much paper, easily torn, blown away at whim.