O Rama, listen closely to this profound teaching. Just as confusion spontaneously arose in Bhrigu’s son, so too does the same bewilderment arise for every individual; the story of Bhrigu’s son serves as an illustration for all of us. Just as a seed produces its own sprout, leaves, and further growth, so does the cluster of delusions arise in every group of beings, unfolding naturally from within. Whatever is seen as this universe is truly just that—each manifestation arises falsely and, likewise, passes away in falsehood. The world does not truly set nor arise for anyone; it is merely a delusion, a display of maya, expanding in vain. As this world-egg appears in our own perception, so too, countless unseen worlds exist for others, each shaped by their own awareness. Just as the activities in dream-cities and imagined cities are unseen by one another, so too do these cycles of worldly delusion remain separate, distinct for each individual. In this way, there exist cities in the sky, formed by imagination; they are real in their own way, yet are not seen except by the eye of knowledge. In the same manner, spirits, yakṣas, and demons have bodies made only of thought, composed of pleasure and pain. Thus, O delight of the Raghu lineage, we and all these beings are formed from our own imagination, possessing the nature of both falsehood and reality. The cycle of creation exists in this manner; it is not truly real, for in truth, it abides in the unreal. The world arises for each individual merely as an illusion, just as the sap of spring appears in the form of new shoots. This first imagination of one’s own self becomes well-established, just as intense conviction makes something firmly conceived as supremely real. The mind, arising individually, remains within its own nature; seeing the world in various ways, it eventually perishes. By the force of appearance, things seem to exist or not, depending on perception; the web of the world is a long dream, tethered to the mighty elephant of the mind. Indeed, consciousness is the very existence of the world, and the existence of the world is shaped by consciousness; if either one is absent, both cease to be—this is established by true inquiry. The reflection that appears in pure consciousness is real, just as saffron dye adheres only to an unstained cloth. When something is not brought by another, a different quality will surely arise; when consciousness is not seized by thoughts, its own awareness emerges. Just as gold does not settle on a soiled garment, so too a single-pointed vision does not remain in a tainted mind. By polishing a gem or by proper means with copper, so too, through long and steady practice, the mind becomes purified. In the world, which is only appearance, these sequences of time and action arise and fall—how can they exist in the pure mind? Just as this world is seen by the pure mind, inherited from father and mother, so it abides in that mind, like a peacock’s egg in the peacock. From the storehouse of its own nature, this is tasted and gradually arises—just as from a seed come the sprout, leaves, creeper, flower, and fruit. The living being perceives within only that which is the essence of its own tendencies; the analogy is a dream, and this world is but a long dream. O Rama, each individual distinctly experiences the forest of worldly existence within himself, just as, at night, one clearly sees a network of dreams—armies and men—within oneself. This multitude of worldly existences comes together mutually by itself—or perhaps not; if not, you should explain this to me properly. A mind that is impure and weak is not fit for mutual union, just as unheated iron does not merge with iron, but pure and heated iron does. Pure essences of mind unite with each other, just as waters of the same kind merge together, but not those separated by barriers. The purity of mind is the absence of tendencies, a single state of non-experience; from that state of deep sleep, upon awakening, by the operation of subtle causes, association with others arises. Both activity and withdrawal are preceded by the attainment of subtle elements for all living beings, immediately after the state of deep sleep. Those living beings engaged in activity have reached the state of subtle elements; by the unity of those subtle elements, they mutually perceive imagined creations. By the channel of unity of the subtle elements, the diverse reservoirs of creation intermingle and become dense together. Some remain in separate states and dissolve separately; others come together and form cosmic eggs. Where countless thousands of cosmic eggs exist, each within each, not attached to one another—that is called the forest of Brahman. That which does not unite with another, having attained density, perceives only what is established there, not anything else. By the force of present mental imaginings, the successions of living beings merge with one another, forming the established patterns of creation. The existence of the body is firmly established, while the absence of the body is forgotten, because of deep-rooted identification with the body and forgetfulness of one’s true self in the space of consciousness. Just as the pure vital air, when struck by another’s breath, knows the kingdom of the one struck, so too do the worlds, resting in humans, become known. For all living beings, the three states of self—waking, dream, and deep sleep—are attained; here, the body is not the cause. Thus, the sense of living in the self, arising from the three states of consciousness, fluctuates as the condition of embodiment, like the movement of waves in heated water. Having reached the abode of the spark of consciousness and remaining at the threshold of deep sleep, the awakened soul withdraws, while the deluded soul engages in creation.