Burning Beneath

Every night, we close our eyes and surrender to sleep—a process so natural that we rarely stop to question its mystery. Unlike breathing, which continues seamlessly whether we think about it or not, sleep is different. It is often called the “small death”—a state where the body powers down, yet something within us remains active, wandering beyond the confines of our physical form in ways we can’t fully explain.

Think about it: every night, our consciousness fades, and in that space, our energy—our soul—seems to detach, exploring realms beyond our waking perception. We call them dreams, but could they be something more? Could they be glimpses of another existence, another form of movement beyond time and space?

If our essence is energy, then sleep may be the moment when that energy is freed—unburdened from maintaining the body, instead roaming, visiting, and connecting with something beyond our immediate reality. And yet, every morning, it returns, seamlessly reintegrating, bringing back only faint whispers of places we don’t remember and faces we’ve never met.

I once firmly believed that life was purely biological. If something didn’t make sense to me, I dismissed it as unreal, incorrect, or impossible. But that was the younger me. Now, at 51, I realize that true logic demands deeper thought. If I truly reflect on the nature of sleep, it becomes clear—our body lies motionless, while our soul, our energy, is elsewhere. We don’t know exactly where it goes, only that we sometimes recall fragments of dreams—proof that our soul has traveled, visited, and connected beyond the physical world.

Our energy departs, navigating a plane we can barely comprehend, interacting with spaces and entities unknown to our waking mind. And if sleep allows our soul to leave and return, isn’t that, in its essence, a form of incarnation? The very concept I once rejected as illogical now seems inevitable. Each night, our soul journeys elsewhere—becoming something, somewhere, beyond conscious grasp yet entirely within the reach of absolute logic.

Perhaps, after all, our nightly wanderings are glimpses of something far greater than we ever dared to believe.