In a grand design.

Sleep. Often a period of thoughtlessness. A facsimile of death, I suppose. Except that one wakes up from sleep. But then, maybe one wakes up from death. Into a new form of consciousness. A transformation. Or a transcendence to a new level of being. I like to think. About all the possibilities. Anything imaginable must be possible. That’s why one is given an imagination. Flying to the moon. Or Mars. Or into another solar system. Even into another dimension. Entering a black hole into another inescapable form of existence. Maybe I have a new name for the creator. A grand  designer.  The maker of the impossible. Everything that can be imagined becomes attainable. In a grand design. –Jim Broede