Some years ago I read a brilliant book, What Dreams May Come, whose storyline was that in plasmic substance of afterworld, people perceive only reality created by their thoughts, beliefs and expectations. They live in this reality until they wake up to their infinite potential to create and inhabit magnificent worlds of love, beauty and service.

This makes such perfect sense, doesn’t it, with quantum mechanics teaching us that physical reality adjusts to our expectations of it. So many of us, grasping this, have begun to perceive and create our realities from infinite fields of possibility that are open to us.

We are learning to look into mirrors in our lives–people, circumstances, books and movies–to see inside our own hearts and minds. If we don’t like what we see, we can rewrite script, repaint canvas, reshape clay. With awesome creative powers of mind, heart and soul, we envision a higher reality until energy of this thought-form permeates and uplifts us into a more beautiful dream of life.

It sounds ridiculously simple and is. According to late great psychic diagnostician Edgar Cayce, using a constructive ideal like peace, joy, oneness or love as a focal point in meditation atomically builds that ideal into body, mind and spirit.

By no coincidence, I just read an article supporting this in “Venture Inward” magazine (July-August 2004). It was written by a psychotherapist who created a 30-minute cassette of affirmations for an elderly friend developing Alzheimer’s Disease, according to his two physicians. The man played these affirmations each night at bedtime for 30 days and steadily grew happier and more tolerant, compassionate and loving. He did not develop Alzheimer’s and also cured severe macular degeneration in his left eye.

How do we know what to dream up for ourselves?

Although not in class first week of a twelve-week training; Chris showed up during second week. Class was well under way when Chris walked into room. Actually, she didn’t really walk into room; she dragged herself in, supported by a pair of metal crutches. Chris has Cerebral Palsy, which she lived with all her life.

Chris had an extremely difficult time communicating with others. This was not due to lack of desire, but because for most of her twenty-one years of life she had been kept in a room with no more than Elvis records and tapes to entertain her. No one had taken time to assist her in developing ability to communicate. No one except Bonnie, her current caretaker. It was Bonnie who knew there was much more to Chris than anyone ever gave her credit for.