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.

Our greatest apparent strengths frequently lead to our downfall
Confirmation bias means most of us assume our opponents are ‘morans’
It can take a lifetime of work to overcome abusive ‘programming’
We often act like madmen who’re eagerly bent on self-destruction
Watching kids on a Friday night reminds me of struggle to belong
If you’re sure what’s important, everything else seems trivial
Unless you oppose all coercion, ‘resistance’ claim rings hollow