Just as a city appears vividly in a dream but is understood to be unreal upon waking, so too is the waking world itself—there is truly no difference. At the beginning of creation, the world’s appearance is as insubstantial as the city in a dream. Objects encountered in dreams have no true existence; abiding reality belongs only to pure awareness, while the things seen in dreams are mere illusions. In a dream, a mountain might suddenly appear suspended in the sky, or it might emerge gradually—so too, in waking life, the vast expanse of the elemental sky unfolds in stages. Those nearby may see someone as flying up or as dead, but this is only because their own perception is overpowered by the force of knowledge-transference. All these creations, whether in dream or waking, are but false perceptions, born from delusion; they are illusions, empty and unsubstantial, like experiences in a dream. Dream experiences, the perceptions that arise between death and awakening, and other such wanderings, all seem vividly real, but they are false appearances—like the mirage that shimmers before vanishing, or a river whose waters have dried up—arising within the subtle body, which is like a vehicle for these experiences. Meanwhile, awareness itself, by the power of intention, quickly restrained the living being before her, as one might check a horse, or as the mind’s restless movement is suddenly stilled. At this point, a question arose: “Tell me, Lady, how much time has passed here in this palace while I was absorbed in samadhi and the king’s corpse lay here?” The answer came: “A month has passed in this place. These two maidservants have remained in the inner chamber to guard you, while you slept and the body was brought here.” “Listen, beautiful one, to what has happened to your body in this time: within a fortnight, the body’s sinews decayed. Lifeless, fallen to the ground, dry as a withered leaf, the corpse—cold as snow—lay beside the wooden wall. Then the ministers arrived, and, seeing the signs of decay, declared her dead. Out of fear, they removed her from the house. What more can be said? They placed her upon the funeral pyre, with sandalwood and ghee, and she was swiftly reduced to ashes.” “Afterwards, the queen’s death caused loud and tumultuous lamentation; all your attendants performed the funeral rites. Now, seeing you here in bodily form, having returned from the other world, it will be considered a great marvel. Yet, by the power of your true resolve, you are seen here with that very body, your noble mind intent upon your son. Whatever impression you held regarding the body, that very form has arisen in you, just as before. Everyone perceives according to their own impressions; the vision of the child Vetala is a clear example of this.” “You have now become endowed with the subtle body, O accomplished and beautiful one; your former body is forgotten and departs on its own. For one whose vision is established in the subtle body, the pains of the physical body subside, even if they appear to the awakened one, like a rain cloud in the sky. When the subtle body is established, the physical body becomes like a corpse—like a waterless cloud, or a flower without fragrance. From today, as your awareness of the subtle body has matured, the physical body is forgotten, just as the state in the womb is forgotten in youth.” “Today, on the thirty-first day, we have reached this sky; in the morning, the two maidservants were deluded by sleep. So come, Lila, let us reveal ourselves to her for the sake of play, by the play of thought, so that activity may proceed.” As soon as the thought arose—“Let us appear before Lila”—the two goddesses became visible there, shining brilliantly in that vision, by the power of awareness. Lila, wife of Viduratha, her eyes wide with wonder, gazed upon the house, radiant with a mass of light—like something carved from the moon’s disk, washed with streams of gold, like a cool flame, or a slender vine with a sturdy support. Seeing the house before her and perceiving the joyous summons, she arose and, in haste, fell at their feet. When the queen Majjaya arrived, she said, “Victory to you, givers of life! I have come here before you, as the one who clears your path.” When she had spoken thus, those proud women, radiant in their youth, sat down on the seats, like vines upon the summit of Mount Meru. They asked her, “Child, tell us: how did you first arrive in this place? What happened to you, what did you see on the way, and where?” Majjaya replied: “Goddess, in that place I fell into a swoon; I became like the waning crescent moon, enveloped by the flames at the end of an age. I was not aware of anything, neither pleasant nor unpleasant; then, closing my eyes beneath trembling lashes… Then, at the end of that deathly swoon, O supreme goddess, I saw—until I suddenly arose and soared into the expanse of the sky. In the space of elements, I mounted the chariot of wind; just as a streak of fragrance is carried, so I was brought to this abode.” “Here I see a dwelling adorned by its master, shining with lamps, secluded, and furnished with a splendid bed. I behold my husband, Viduratha, lying with his body guarded by flowers, like honey in a garden of blossoms. Now, exhausted from the fervor of battle, he sleeps deeply; thus, O queen of gods, I did not disturb his slumber. Then, as the goddess arrived in this place, I recounted everything as I experienced it, O gracious one, for your favor.” “O you who move like swans, with playful and charming eyes, let us raise the king from this bed of corpses.