18. sa yatraitaya svapnᾱyᾱcarati, te hᾱsya lokᾱḥ: tad uta iva mahᾱrᾱjo bhavati, uta iva mahᾱ-brᾱhmaṇaḥ, uta iva uccᾱvacam nigacchati: sa yadᾱ mᾱhᾱrajo, jᾱnapadᾱn gṛhītvᾱ sve janapade yathᾱ-kᾱmam parivarteta, evam evaiṣa etat prᾱṇᾱn gṛhītvᾱ sve śarīre yathᾱ-kᾱmam parivartate.

We have our own world in dream. We manufacture our own country, our own residence, our own activity and everything else. This creation of a new world in dream is out of the material of past experience in previous waking conditions. These are the worlds which the dreamer creates. Te hᾱsya lokᾱḥ: tad uta iva mahᾱrᾱjo bhavati, uta iva mahᾱ-brᾱhmaṇaḥ: You become an emperor, or a learned man, whatever you like, in dream, according to your own wish. Uta iva uccᾱvacam nigacchati: You become high and you can become low; you are rich and you are poor; you are happy or unhappy; you are this and that. Like a lord do you wander in the world of dream. As an emperor or a king may go for excursions in his own country, with a large retinue, hither and thither, likewise is this intellectual or psychological self moving in the world of dream with all the objects that it has created out of its own desires; and it appears as if it is in a world of freedom which has been created by its own imagination and will.  

19. atha yadᾱ suṣupto bhavati, yadᾱ na kasya cana veda, hitᾱ nᾱma nᾱdyo dvᾱ-saptatiḥ sahasrᾱṇi hṛdayᾱt purītatam abhipratiṣṭhante, tᾱbhiḥ pratyavasṛpya purītati śete, sa yathᾱ kumᾱro vᾱ mahᾱrᾱjo vᾱ mahᾱ-brᾱhmaṇo vᾱtighnīm ᾱnandasya gatvᾱ śayīta, evam evaiṣa etac chete.

What happens when the dream ceases and there is a withdrawal of consciousness into sleep? One knows nothing. There are various nerve currents within. They are called the Hīta-Nādis. They are supposed to be seventy-two thousand in number - dvᾱ-saptatiḥ sahasrᾱṇi. They ramify themselves in every direction throughout the body, and it is through these nerve currents that the mind travels in the waking and the dreaming states. The number of the nerves is so much that one cannot find a single pinpoint of space in the body where these nerves are not. They spread themselves everywhere. Like water pipes moving from one direction to another, in every way, these nerve-currents seem to be pervading throughout the body, and through these currents flows the mind, drawing the consciousness of the self together with it, and so it appears that we are conscious physically. Our physical consciousness, or bodily consciousness, the feeling that the body is conscious in the waking state, is brought about by a mixture of properties affected by the activity of the mind which is the medium between the physical body and the self inside. The mind is not conscious by itself. It is something like a glass pane or a mirror which is not self-luminous. A mirror is not light, for the light comes from somewhere else. But, though the mirror has no light of its own, it can shine through borrowed light to such an extent that we may see only the light there and not the mirror. In a clean glass which is placed in bright sunlight, for instance, we cannot see the solidity of the object there. We see only bright light, nothing else. The presence of the glass is not seen on account of the transparency of the substance and the brilliance of the light that passes through this medium. Likewise, the mind is a kind of transparent substance, we may say, through which the light of the self passes. And it completely absorbs the consciousness into itself. It becomes apparently self-conscious. As the light of the sun may get absorbed into the object, e.g., the glass pane, and the glass itself may appear shining, as if it is itself the light, so the mind, the psychological being in us, apparently assumes the role of consciousness for practical activity in daily life, and it charges the nerve currents with consciousness when it moves through them, and there is a sympathetic action brought about by this mental movement in the physical body also, on account of which the body wakes up as if it is conscious. The body is charged with the force of the self by means of the mind which moves through the currents called Hītas, which are many in number. They are all centred, as if in the hub of a wheel, in the centre of the heart, which is called the Purītat, where the mind sleeps when it is absorbed from all activity. The Purītat is also a central nerve current where the mind gets lodged in the state of deep sleep. It withdraws itself from all these seventy-two thousand nerve channels when it is about to sleep. When it absorbs itself into the centre and goes to the Purītat, does not move outwardly through the nerve currents called Hītas, then, naturally, its apparent conscious activity also ceases. Due to this reason, the body loses consciousness. The body had no consciousness even before, and its real nature is exposed now in sleep. It appeared to be conscious on account of the vibration of consciousness which was communicated to it through the mind. The mind having been withdrawn in sleep, consciousness also automatically withdraws itself, because the consciousness we have is nothing but mental consciousness. And when the mind is thus withdrawn, everything that is sustained by the mind also is put to sleep. You cannot know that you are breathing; you cannot know that you have any personality at all. The senses also cease to act. The eyes, the ears and the other organs of perception are active consciously on account of the operation of the mind, again. The eyes cannot see really, because they are, in fact, unconscious substances. They are fleshy bodies; they are made up of the five elements, they are not conscious entities. But how is it possible that they are seeing, hearing, etc.? That is because they are charged with consciousness. As if a magnet is brought before an iron rod which gets charged by the magnet on account of its proximity to it, the sense-organs get charged with consciousness through their proximity to the mind, and so they begin to act as if they are alive by themselves. But when this withdrawal of the mind takes place in sleep when it goes back to lodgement in the Purītat, the senses lose contact with consciousness. Then the eyes cannot see; the ears cannot hear, etc.

One is very happy. Like an innocent child one sleeps. Like a great king one sleeps. Like a lofty genius one sleeps. Everyone sleeps in the same way. Whether you are a genius, an emperor, or a child, it makes no difference to you. When you are fast asleep, you cannot know what you are. Who knows what one is when one is asleep? One does not know whether one is a rich person or a poor person. It does not mean that the rich person's sleep is more pleasant than the poor one's. Both sleep equally well. The child's sleep and the adult's sleep are the same. The king's sleep and the beggar's sleep are alike. The man's sleep and the woman's sleep do not differ. What happens to all these differences in sleep? Where do they go? They were really not there. Differences are artificially constructed for reasons which are quite apart, not at all connected with the true nature of oneself. When one goes to one's own essential nature, there is a uniformity established, so that the whole universe becomes one mass of being. The sleep of everyone is uniformly structured. There is no up and down or a difference in intensity or degree in the sleeps of different people or different things, whether of an ant or of an elephant. This is so because the Self is one. We all go to a single ocean of consciousness when we are asleep, but when we wake up we become little ripples, small waves with all the idiocyncracies and differences, with a vehemence that asserts itself as independent in its own pattern of individuality, or body-consciousness.

So, in sleep, one is like a child, or an emperor, or a learned genius - all meaning one and the same thing in the delight of sleep, while they mean tremendously different things in waking. There is a vast difference between an emperor and a small baby, but in sleep no such difference exists. All this happens because the Self of the emperor is the same as the Self of the baby. There is no such distinction as the Self of one and the Self of another. There are not many infinites possible. The Self is a Universal Being which manifests itself as individuals in dream and waking. But in sleep these distinctions get abolished, or obliterated, on account of the return of all particularity into the Universal being which is the true Self of all. But this true Self in sleep remains unconscious of itself due to strange reasons. If only we are to be awake in sleep, we would be universally aware at one stroke, and we would not be aware of individualities; we would not be aware of space, time and objectivity. There would be an oceanic awakening into a Being which is the Being of each and every one. That would be the status we would achieve if we are to be conscious in sleep, but, unfortunately for us, we are not conscious in sleep. So we go like fools, and come back like fools, as if nothing has happened. Some wondrous thing has actually happened. A tremendous change has taken place in sleep, but we are totally unaware of this marvellous event. And so we do not know where we went; do not know from where we have come.

Unlimited is the bliss that we experience in sleep. No pleasure of the world can be compared with the pleasure of sleep. Whatever possessions we might have, even if the possession be of the whole earth itself, cannot bring that satisfaction which one has in the state of sleep, where one becomes one's own Self. The realisation of the Self is, therefore, the highest pinnacle of happiness. It is not the possession of things that brings true joy. While the possession of objects of sense and the suzerainty that one wields over others may bring about an apparent satisfaction as a reflected one through the mental being of oneself, that is not true happiness because it comes and goes, it has a beginning and an end, it is a medium that works and not the true Self that reigns. When the true Self works, there is incomparable bliss.

"This was the sleep in which condition this person was, whom I woke up just now. Why should he wake up if I call him? He was very happy there. He had to be shaken up violently, and then he woke up. When he wakes up, he does not become conscious of what he was experiencing in sleep. Immediately he gets switched on to the old routine of mental activity." While the self withdraws itself from all manifestations when it is in sleep, it projects itself in waking through the very channels through which it withdrew itself into sleep. That means to say, the same mind begins to work, and the same senses, the same Prāṇa and the same relationship with objects also obtains. Thus, when we wake up, we are the same old individuals, with the same memories and desires and frustrations, the same body-consciousness, same limitations, etc., absolutely oblivious of what happened in sleep. "This is an indication to you, O Bālāki," says Ajātaśatru, "as to what the Ultimate Reality is. This is the state into which one enters in sleep, and it is not any particular form or a shape. It is Universal Existence. This is the Ātman; this is Brahman."

King Ajātaśatru answers his own question as to the nature of that condition which is responsible for one's falling into sleep and also for one's rising up from that state. The state of sleep is a tendency to universality, which is not recognised by the individual set-up of the personality because of the intense connections the mind has with the body and the various forms connected with the body. It is a state of universal dissolution, as it were, though actually the dissolution does not take place. There is a pull exerted on the person from different corners or aspects or parts of reality, we may say, so that, that becomes an irresistible state. It is not that something ordinary or well known happens is sleep; it is something uncanny, weird and super-sensible that takes place there. Every part of the make-up of the personality is pulled in different directions. By what, is the question. By Reality itself. Various answers have been given as to why one falls asleep at all. Why is there a tendency to sleep? There are those who think it is due to the fatigue of the senses and the exhaustion of the mind in pursuit of happiness. The whole of the day is spent by the mind and the senses, pursuit of pleasure, satisfaction to the ego and the senses. But this satisfaction does not come from the source from where it is expected. The reason is very simple. All the pleasures of life are born of contact of the senses and the mind with corresponding objects, but there is no such thing as a real contact of one thing with another thing in this world. Contacts are impossible because of the independence asserted by all things. Everything has an independent state of its own. That is called the ego; that is called the personality; that is called the differentia of an object, or the individuality of a thing. Even an atom asserts itself; it cannot merge with another atom. There is a kind of self-affirmation manifested in various ways by all beings, due to which a real union of things not possible by mere sensory contact or even a psychological coming together. On account of this difficulty, the pleasures of sense and of the mind, the ego become a mere phantasm. They are only a makeshift, a kind of show, but really the thing expected does not come forth from that source. So, there is an exhaustion, a fatigue at the end of the day, and then the mind goes back to that source from where it has come originally and to which it really belongs. The examples given in the Upaniṣhads are some such things as these.

Just as a bird goes about hunting for its prey throughout the day, in the sky, searches for its grub, wanders about throughout the corners of the earth, gets exhausted and goes back to its nest at night, and sleeps there, so is this personality of ours an inscrutable something. We do not know whether to call it a soul, or a mind, or an ego, or a personality, or what. Some mix-up and a mixture of everything is there which we call the individual. It returns to its source for the sake of refreshing itself from the exhaustion to which it has been subjected by the search for happiness in the outer world. Other people are of the opinion that it is the Reality that pulls the individual back to itself, in sleep. Whether one is aware of this state or not is a different matter, but the pull is there. It is like a blindfolded person forcibly taken to the throne of an emperor and placed there. Yes, he is on the throne, no doubt, but he is blindfolded and knows not what is happening. A force is exerted which is super-individualistic, and that is practically identical with the Absolute state of things from which the whole universe arises. This is what seems to be the doctrine of King Ajātaśatru in respect of the source of sleep, and the cause of sleep.  

20. sa yathorṇanᾱbhiś tantunoccaret, yathᾱgneḥ kśudrᾱ visphuliṅgᾱ vyuccaranti, evam evᾱsmᾱd ᾱtmanaḥ sarve prᾱṇaḥ, sarve lokᾱḥ, sarve devᾱḥ. sarvᾱni bhῡtᾱni vyuccaranti: tasyopaniṣat, satyasya satyam iti prᾱṇᾱ vai satyam, teṣᾱm eṣa satyam.

Just as a spider vomits out web from its own mouth and then moves about through the very structure it has projected out of its mouth, just as sparks of fire jet forth from a flaming conflagration, something like this is the analogy of creation. The universe is manifested in this manner, as it were, if at all you wish to have a comparison. No comparison can be apt in this matter, of course, as is well known. The example that the creative process is something like the spider ejecting web is to point out that the material of the universe comes from the cause itself. The cause is not merely an instrumental one, but it is also the material cause. The substance of the world is of the nature of its cause, just as the substance of the thread that comes from the mouth of the spider is the substance of the spider itself. It does not come from somewhere else. The spider does not manufacture the threads as a potter manufactures pots out of clay which comes from somewhere, or as a carpenter makes a table or a chair out of wood that comes from outside. Not so. It is from the very Being, which is the cause, that the substance of the universe comes. This point is apparently made out by the analogy of the creative process being something like the spider manufacturing threads out of its own body. The other analogy that it is something like sparks of fire coming out of flames is to show the similarity in essence of the effect with the cause. The effect is not essentially dissimilar, in character, to the cause, just as the spark is not dissimilar in essence, from its cause, which is fire. Ultimately, everything, even the meanest and the lowest of creation, is qualitatively identical with the Supreme Cause. In this way, creation is effected by the Absolute, which is the Supreme Reality. From the Supreme Self everything proceeds. All the energies and all the senses (Prāṇa), everything that we call mentation, understanding, or intellection; all these worlds (Loka), the various realms of being; all the celestials (Deva), the angels in paradise; all the planes of existence, everything created, whatever is called a created being (Bhūtani); - all these are emanations from the Absolute Self. That appears as all this multiplicity.

Tasyopaniṣat, satyasya satyam iti: The secret is that it is the Reality of reality. The whole of creation may be a kind of reality, no doubt, so far as it is being experienced by us, but the Absolute is the Reality behind this reality. Prᾱṇᾱ vai satyam, teṣᾱm eṣa satyam: Individual souls are realities, no doubt, but the Supreme Being is the Reality behind these souls, also. The individual structure, the soul, the Jīva constituted of the senses and the mind, etc., is a relative reality, but this Ultimate cause is the Absolute Reality. It is absolutely real because it does not change itself, and is not subject to transcendence. It is not limited by the processes of time; it is not conditioned by space; it is not finitised by objects, and, therefore, it is absolutely real. In all the three periods of time, it is the same, and every point of space contains it entirely. Therefore, it is absolutely real (satyasya satyam), while everything else is empirically real. All things have a utilitarian value, a practical or temporary significance, not an absolute meaning.

Thus, Ajātaśatru gives a comprehensive answer to the questions he posed before Bālāki, the learned person, by a refutation of all the notions of reality held by the latter; and with the declaration that the Self is the Ultimate Reality from which everything proceeds in various ways, the conversation is concluded. But the subject of the discourse is continued by the Upaniṣhad, though without a direct connection with this conversation.