It's a dream. Just a dream. 

But it is and was also much more than a dream. The details are always fuzzy, but I remember the framework. It's spanned lifetimes, seemingly. I remember examining facets of my life from many points of view. Every event, every decision, seeing all possibilities. 

There was a place in the dream, too. I can never remember it when I'm awake, only that it exists, but in the dream I always recognize recognize it and think to myself "Oh, this is the place I only go in my dreams." 

Why is this important? Every time I have this dream, I remember having all my questions answered, not with simple words, but through the outcome of every possibility, over those endless lifetimes. 

And I remember forgetting it all, and while I still cling to the last of it, thinking: "It's OK, you'll come here again." My last impression of what I remember being the knowledge that, on a long enough timeline and wide enough focus, everything will really be OK. 

And I know I will. Whether in sleep or in death, in any place I rejoin the universe. Ever since I began having this dream, the world is a far less frightening place.

You cannot harm one who has dreamed a dream like mine.
— Dakota Prayer Song