What Dreams May Come

That which you believe becomes your world.

Heaven would never be heaven without you.

Thank you...for gracing my life with your lovely presence, for adding the sweet measure of your soul to my existence.

Let this hell be our heaven.

…They think of suicide as a quick route to oblivion, an escape. Far from it. It merely alters a person from one form to another. Nothing can destroy the spirit. Suicide only precipitates a darker continuation of the same conditions from which escape was sought. A condition under circumstances so much more painful.

What condemnation could possibly be more harsh than one’s own, when self-pretense is no longer possible?

If men only felt about death as they do about sleep, all terrors would cease. . . Men sleep contentedly, assured that they will wake the following morning. They should feel the same about their lives.

Chris Nielsen: Thank you for every kindness. Thank you for our children. For the first time I saw them. Thank you for being someone I was always proud to be with. For your guts, for your sweetness. For how you always looked, for how I always wanted to touch you. God, you were my life. I apologize for everytime I ever failed you. Especially this one...

All of us have a path to follow and the path begins on earth.

Chris:I forgive you. Annie: For killing my children and my sweet husband? Chris: For being so wonderful a guy would choose hell over heaven just to be around you.

Failures plagued me. Things I had omitted or ignored, neglected. What I should have given and hadn’t. I felt the biting pang of every unfulfillment.

There we will, I pray, remain and learn and grow until the time when we will rise together to the ultimate heights, changing in appearance but never in devotion, sharing the transcendent glory of our love through all eternity.

Each memory was brought to life before me and within me. I could not avoid them. Neither could I rationalize, explain away. I could only re-experience with total cognizance, unprotected by pretense. Self delusion was impossible, truth exposed in this blinding light. Nothing as I thought it had been. Nothing as I hoped it had been. Only as it had been.

As her analyst had told her: the deeper buried the distress, the further into the body it went. The digestive system was about as far as it could go to hide.

When you sleep, your dream world is as real to you as life, isn’t it?

People are not punished for their deeds but by them

(After death.) So few people who come across, possess awareness of any kind. All they bring along with them are worthless values. All they desire is continuation of what they had in life no matter how misguided or degraded. . . Will those people ever progress, even with our help?

Not only did I rediscover every experience of my life, I had to live each unfulfilled desire as well—as though they’d been fulfilled. I saw that what transpires in the mind is just as real as any flesh and blood occurrence. What had only been imagination in life, now became tangible, each fantasy a full reality. I lived them all—while, at the same time, standing to the side, a witness to their, often, intimate squalor. A witness cursed with total objectivity.

…Those who’ve marred their appearance in any way by their actions in life aren’t forced to witness that marring. If they were, they’d become self-conscious and be unable to concentrate on improving themselves.

I couldn’t tell you, Robert, what the higher ramifications are of being soul mates. I can tell you this however. As long as you are separated from your own, that long are you troubled. No matter what the circumstances, no matter how exquisite the environment in which you find yourself. To be half

…Not that it was unjust; not that the scales were forced out of balance. Where there had been good, it showed as clearly. Kindnesses, accomplishments, all those were present, too.

Does a man’s existence change in any way when he removes his overcoat? Neither does it change when death removes the overcoat of his body. He’s still the same person. No wiser. No happier. No better off. Exactly the same. “Death is merely continuation at another level.

The death of someone with whom a person has been long and closely associated leaves a literal vacuum in that person’s life,

Don’t families stay together?” “Not necessarily,” he told me. “Earth ties have less meaning here. Relationships of thought, not blood, are what count.

The gift?” “An ability to utilize the etheric sense despite their encapsulation in the physical body.

I’d been in the densest part of the earth’s aura he told me, an aqueous region which was the source of myths about the waters of Lethe, the River Styx.

Send her loving thoughts,” he told me. “That’s all?” “That’s quite a lot, Chris,” he said. “Thoughts are very real.

People on earth are never alone,” he explained. “There’s always someone as a guide for each individual.

Even though they fought, their fighting never turned them against each other. It always ended with them embracing and kissing, smiling, laughing.