You are, in truth, pure consciousness itself—serene and abiding in your own essence. Though it seems you perceive this world around you, in reality, you see nothing at all. By your very nature, you ever shine forth as the Self within the Self, radiant and noble like a flawless jewel or a brilliant light. What appears as the seat of the earth does not truly exist, nor do you exist as a separate entity. These mountains and villages are not truly present, nor are we, in the ultimate sense, here at all. Yet, for the brahmin dwelling in the mountain village, seated in the open space of a pavilion, the world unfolds as a splendid play, as if he were a sovereign enjoying his royal domain. Within that royal pavilion, adorned with form and beauty, the entire world seems to be spread out in its inner space. No matter the world, or the house, or the place where we seem to stand, the space within these pavilions is nothing but pure, empty space. In those imagined halls, there is neither earth nor city, no forests, no mountains, no clouds, rivers, or oceans to be found. Those who dwell there exist only as people in emptiness, within their imagined homes. They do not perceive the world, nor its beings, nor its mountains. If this is so, O Devi, how is it that my attendants appear to be here with me? Are they established in themselves, or do they depend on the Self? The world there appears only like a dream. In a dream, no new mountains truly arise. How can what is real in the Self be real, and what is unreal not be? Explain this to me. O King, among those who know the truth, whose very nature is pure awareness, nothing in this world has a form comparable to the Self, which is like the vast expanse of consciousness-space. For one whose Self is pure awareness, how can the illusion of the world arise again? Just as, when the illusion of a snake in a rope is dispelled, the snake does not reappear, so too, when the world’s unreality is recognized, how can its illusion persist? Once a mirage is known as such, how can the mind again believe there is water? When you recognize your own dream as a dream, how can the fear of death within that dream remain? In one’s own dream, fear of dream-death arises only for what is truly immortal. Whatever remains—apart from the words ‘I’ and ‘world’—in the pure, awakened, stainless, and clear mind, that alone is truly indicated by the wise. After the sage had spoken in this manner, the day drew to its close. The sun set, and the assembly, offering their salutations, departed to bathe, accompanied by the fading rays of the evening sun. For the one whose mind is unawakened and deluded by ignorance, this world—though insubstantial in reality—appears as solid and unyielding as adamant. Just as a goblin terrifies a child, bringing only suffering and fear, so too, the unreal world appears as real to the deluded mind, causing distress. Like a mirage that causes thirst in the deer, the unreal world appears real to those whose intellect is clouded by ignorance. Or as death in a dream seems real to the dreamer, though it brings no true consequence, so too, the world seems real to the ignorant but has no lasting effect. One unskilled in gold, seeing a bracelet, thinks only of the ornament and remains unaware of the gold itself. Likewise, an ignorant person, seeing a city, mountain, or palace, perceives only the visible forms, not their true essence. Just as strings of pearls, peacock feathers, or balls may appear in the sky—seeming real though they are not—so too does this world of illusions seem real. Know that this universe, along with notions of ‘I’ and so forth, is but a long dream. Within it, the dream-people seem real—consider how this is so. There exists everywhere a vast expanse, peaceful, pure, dense with reality—its very nature is consciousness, untouched by thought. That which is all-pervading, all-powerful, and the essence of all, abides wherever and however it arises. In the city of dreams, the dreamer perceives its inhabitants; as he recognizes them as men, they become men for him. The nature of the dreamer’s consciousness is situated within the inner space of the dream; thinking, ‘I am this dream-space consciousness, I am a man,’ it is so conceived. Because of the unity between consciousness and the imagined side, the state of being a man is realized; thus, in the Self, through the dual directions, both attain reality. O sage, if the dream-people in the dream are not real, then what fault could there be in one whose body is merely made of illusion? In a dream, those who dwell in another city seem real, though they are only forms of reality. Listen: direct perception alone is valid, not anything else. At the beginning of creation, the self-born shines forth, possessing the nature of experience like a dream; the universe is merely a manifestation of that resolve, and thus is dream-like. In this way, the universe is a dream. Within it, you are real to me, just as you are, and so too are others in the dream, and likewise, dreams exist for people within dreams. If those who dwell in a city within a dream are not real, then likewise, in this world, which has the same form, you are not real to me either. Just as I am truly real for you, so too are you real for me; in the experience of dreams and in worldly existence, this mutual reality is established for both of us. In the vast dream of worldly existence, just as I am real for you, so too are you real for me; this is the way of all dreams. For the dreamer who is without sleep, the city seen in the dream remains, due to its true nature; likewise, O Lord, this is my understanding. Indeed, it is so: the dream city remains because of its reality, even for the dreamer who is without sleep, having a form as clear as the sky. Let that be; but as for what you consider waking, know that it too is but a dream within, furnished with space, time, and all the rest. In this way, all this appears, yet it is not truly real, though it seems so; it enchants, but falsely, like the fleeting delight of a woman in a dream.