My room was dimly lit by two shaded lamps. Lifting my gaze,
I noticed that the ceiling was dotted with small mustard-colored
lights, scintillating and quivering with a radiumlike luster.
Myriads of pencilled rays, like sheets of rain, gathered into a
transparent shaft and poured silently upon me.
At once my physical body lost its grossness and became metamorphosed
into astral texture. I felt a floating sensation as, barely touching
the bed, the weightless body shifted slightly and alternately to
left and right. I looked around the room; the furniture and walls
were as usual, but the little mass of light had so multiplied that
the ceiling was invisible. I was wonder-struck.
"This is the cosmic motion picture mechanism." A voice spoke
as though from within the light. "Shedding its beam on the white
screen of your bed sheets, it is producing the picture of your
body. Behold, your form is nothing but light!"
I gazed at my arms and moved them back and forth, yet could not feel
their weight. An ecstatic joy overwhelmed me. This cosmic stem of
light, blossoming as my body, seemed a divine replica of the light
beams streaming out of the projection booth in a cinema house and
manifesting as pictures on the screen.
For a long time I experienced this motion picture of my body in the
dimly lighted theater of my own bedroom. Despite the many visions
I have had, none was ever more singular. As my illusion of a solid
body was completely dissipated, and my realization deepened that
the essence of all objects is light, I looked up to the throbbing
stream of lifetrons and spoke entreatingly.
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