I fell asleep while reading a book talking about the goal of religion. In my dream, I was lying in the same spot in my bed, wide wake, reading my book. Then, I started hearing a male voice speaking from the living room, I couldn't make out what he was saying, but I recognized it as the voice of my brother who died 28 years ago. But, in my dream, I was thinking he was still alive, and still as young now as he was then. I wanted to get up and go talk to him, but I could not move. I sensed his presence coming into my bedroom, but I still could not see him, nor could I turn over and look upon him. I tried to speak, but did not have full control of my tongue and lips and could only utter inarticulate groanings. In my dream, my son was asleep in the bed next to me. In "real" life, he is 28, but in the dream, he was only about three or four. In "real" life, my son was about at that age when I had just become a single parent and he would often sneak into my bed after I was asleep. In "real" life, my son was not born until a few months after my brother had died. Finally, after repeatedly failing to move, or speak, or see with my physical eyes, I began to understand what my brother was saying. He said that he just stopped by on his way to somewhere else, and that I was not to worry. And, then, he was gone. All I could see was light --- bright, yellow light, And, in the midst of the light, a smaller flame. The smaller flame was at the same spot I "focus" on when, during meditation, I envision the essence of my being rising out of my body and looking down upon my now disembodied flesh. After a few more seconds of this, I awoke, opened my eyes, regained use of my body, and returned to the "real" world.