I knew I was dead, but I wasn’t upset about that. I just felt shame that I didn’t have more to show for the life I had left behind.
This was different from any dream I’ve ever had. It felt more real than anything from waking life. At times, it was more beautiful and loving than anything I’ve experienced on this Earth. At other times, it was painful and I felt shame.
But I was asleep — and I’m not dead — so it had to be a dream.
This was the second time lately that I’ve dreamed about my death. The first time, I just dreamed that I had died. I saw my body as though I was a spirit who had left it. But the second time — this past Saturday night — was much more than that. It was a dream about meeting God and talking about the life I had left behind.
I was in the most beautiful place I’ve ever seen, but I can’t describe it. The scene was dominated, though, by an intense light that was unlike anything I’ve ever seen. It was brighter than any light I’ve experienced, but it didn’t hurt my eyes to look at it.
From that light, I felt what 19th century minister Charles Finney called “waves and waves of liquid love.” I felt small. I felt ashamed of my inadequacy. But I knew that this Creator of all the universe loved me unconditionally. I knew that this place was my home.

Why Santorum is wrong: When God sees sinful world, that includes U.S.
Christmas marks God’s attempt to connect us to himself and others
FRIDAY FUNNIES
Being hermit looks good as world tries to make me a misanthrope
Everybody has times when he needs someone to save his life
We’re all a little crazy; I worry about those who don’t know it
Cop pepper-spraying protesters is symbol for arrogant police culture
Most narcissists instinctively steal approval that you deserve
Abortion debate gives us lots of candidates for ‘Idiot of the Year’