In a dream I was climbing a long tower. I asked, “Where are we going?” and people said: “To see the Christ.” It was a broad tower with a spiral staircase in the wall — something like a lighthouse. As I neared the top, a feeling began to come over me. It was a kind of joy that reached fingers through my body. At the end of the stairs I saw what looked like a picture frame, or a small mirror. This, I understood, was Christ’s reality. People were approaching the mirror and disappearing as they touched it. They were being transported to another world. As I walked toward the mirror, my feeling of joy became overwhelming. It was more intense than anything I had ever felt before. Meanwhile, in the distance, I heard someone sobbing. I drew closer and became intoxicated; closer and I began to fade and glow. At the same time, the sobbing grew louder and more insistent. Touching the mirror, I knew, would transport me into another life. I longed to reach it, but someone near me was in pain. What was happening? At that moment I awoke and found that it was I, myself, who was crying… I wonder if my body could not endure the revelation. It was begging me not to touch the mirror. Ever since, this image comes to mind when I think about the “next life” — which in a sense is found when we die, and in another by our recognition of Him.