My first dream of a Heaven-like place
From the journal, approximately January, 1982
(Exact date unrecorded. This dream recorded in 1989, from memory)
An immense and intensely beautiful city built straight out of an endless ocean of pure, clear water. The architecture is simple, but glorious in that every building is meant to glorify God, as if they are all cathedrals. Light bounces off everything and sparkles in every corner. What shadows there are, are faint and illuminated by reflected light.
The people here wear no clothes, nor are they self-conscious of this fact. A woman comes to me. She strikes me as being like a guide, but of a superior order. She, like all the others I see here, radiates compassion and mercy. She asks me to follow her.
We swim to a large building in the distance. It has no door, so we swim right in. Inside, I see that the building is a single room of great proportions that extends upwards some distance, perhaps ten stories or so. Openings dot the walls allowing light to stream in and bounce all over the interior walls and off the water below. As if the beauty of this scene isn't enough, I hear music like that of a choir of angels singing God's praises. Tears flow down my cheeks as I enjoy the moment.
Comment
I made the 2 illustrations that accompany this text on a train from Amsterdam to Breda, two cities in the Netherlands. At the time, I traveled frequently by train and passed the time by making sketches of dreams with striking visual elements. These 2 sketches, like all the rest, were drawn on an iPad device. Unlike most, these were drawn as my train neared its destination. For that reason, I did them quickly, in around 5 minutes or so each. This is why they are less finished than other drawings I have published here.
I was 16 or 17 years old when I had this dream. At the time, I considered myself a hardcore atheist. I was embarrassed to have dreamed of Heaven (as I assumed it to be at the time). I was also embarrassed to have dreamed of angels and praise for God. The nudity didn’t bother me at all.
The most important characteristic of this dream, the only thing I cared about from my perspective in the dream, was God. Everything I saw, heard, or felt, somehow expressed the awesome nature of God, praise of God, worship of God, and the splendor of God. God’s will as expressed in creation was and is an achingly beautiful thing. That is what this dream evoked with every atomic moment.
After waking, as I wrote earlier, I was embarrassed. I didn’t want to tell anyone about this dream but did anyway because that is the kind of person I am. I prefaced my recitation of the details with many disclaimers like, “this is all so silly” or “Of course this is just a dream and means nothing,” and “I don’t believe in God but I just had a dream where I participated in praising God. It made sense in the dream but now I feel ridiculous”.
It may be hard to believe but at the time of this dream, I had very little ambient knowledge of religion. My mother was a lapsed Catholic who hated the church so much that she deliberately prevented my sister and I from learning about religion. We were also an itinerant family who moved often. One year, we moved four times. The effect of our frequent moves is that it was difficult to form the kind of social relationships that might lead to ambient awareness of religion. To make it even more difficult, my sister and I were forbidden from ever contacting our friends once we’d left the city they lived in. Therefore, any friendships that did start, didn’t last (or so I thought. I later discovered that my sister disobeyed this rule).
To make it even more difficult. My mother discouraged us from watching movies or reading the Bible. The first time I ever looked seriously at the inside of a Bible, I was about 40 years old, just to give an impression of how far removed I was from that kind of interest.
With all this in mind, why was I dreaming of a subject like this? It didn’t make any sense to me. I was taught that our dreams are essentially fantasies manufactured from recycled memories, thoughts, and desires. This dream does not fit into those categories. I knew that as soon as I woke up. Worse, I had another dream like it a little later.
From the journal, approximately 6/1/1982
(Unrecorded until 1989, from memory)
Two men wearing white robes come to fetch me. They [are] taking me to my mother so that I can paint her portrait. They took my hands and we ascended straight up into the air and through some clouds. On top of these clouds was a beautiful white city.
They took me to an escalator at the end of which floated a single little cloud with a round house on it. They pointed to it and directed me to go there, saying that they could not follow. I got onto the escalator and rode it up to the house. In the entry to my left sat my mother with a tapestry she was working on. She smiled a greeting to me. To my right stood my easel and paints.
I went to work on the portrait, and strangely, though it was set up as though I were painting, the artwork itself was a delicate silverpoint drawing. [Paraphrased] Somehow, realizing that this was my mother, yet she wasn’t the mother I know, was a very beautiful feeling. I continued drawing contentedly until I wake.
Comment
I have obscured part of this record, the portion after “paraphrased”. I believe that portion is inaccurate, due to my naivete regarding this type of subject.
Regardless, this is a second dream of a Heaven-like environment at a time when I was still an atheist. I wrote “two men” but in the dream, I was sure they were angels. I don’t know who the mother is other than they told me she was my mother and I realized they were right. In what way they were right, I have no idea.
For me, these two dreams are interesting because they show that an atheist can dream of subjects he is antagonistic to. I should also mention that, although I hated to admit it, both dreams made me feel good in a way I hadn’t felt before. In them, I felt like I belonged somewhere and that there were people, even if they weren’t really “people” who cared about me.