The older I get, and the closer to death, the more I can see the dream-like nature of existence. It seems like a natural process. Of course it was always a dream, but when we're younger it may not serve us to see it like that. The dream needs to be compelling at that point: the things we want to do need to really matter, or we would not incarnate.
But all these decades later, it is like the wallpaper over the cracks, and the cracks are starting to show themselves. They allow for the infinite consciousness that we always were to start seeping in. Space and time do not exist, they are just useful ideas in this contingent existence. We contain the whole universe.
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