You say: “It appeared to me that even the physical universe is just an idea.” It is perfectly true. That does not mean that there is no physical universe, but the physical universe of your thinking is just an idea. You don’t know the reality of the physical universe. You don’t know the reality even of your own consciousness.
A man who does not know himself, all his ideas are going to be empty, without content. What do you know about the trees? What do you know about a roseflower? You may say it is beautiful but that is only your idea, you cannot prove it; you cannot produce any evidence. It can simply be refuted.
Albert Einstein’s wife was a poet and he was a mathematician – that was a strange couple. On the first night she wanted to show him a few of her poems, but she could not show more than one because the very first poem became a problem. In that poem she had compared the moon with the face of her beloved.
Einstein said, “Wait! I cannot tolerate such idiotic things: moon? and face? – there is no similarity. The moon is a dead planet and so vast that if you put it on somebody’s head, that man will be finished. Do you want to kill your beloved?”
Frau Einstein, the wife, had never thought about it, that somebody would bring this argument. And Einstein said, “What is the beauty in it? – just a rotten piece of land where there is no water, no greenery, nothing grows, no life. Is your beloved dead?”
She was an intelligent woman. She never again mentioned any of her poems to him because poems are not mathematics, not physics, not science.
Your idea of the universe is not the universe.
When all your ideas disappear and you also become a mirror, then you see the reality of existence reflected in you. But then it is no longer an idea, it is a true reflection.
I said that you are very much confused, because these were beautiful experiences and you are saying, “There are no words to describe the nightmare.” I don’t see anywhere any nightmare.
Experiencing me, that I am not, is a truth.
Experiencing me as a mirror is a truth.
Experiencing that the universe is only your idea is a truth. How can truth be a nightmare?
This was not a nightmare; you were coming out of nightmares.
“Only one sentence rushed through my head.” Naturally, if it was a nightmare to you, you must have become immensely afraid. “Only one sentence rushed through my head, ‘He kills us! He kills us!’” That, too, is true.
To be a sannyasin is to commit suicide – suicide of the ego, suicide of the personality – because only after this suicide can you discover your original face. Every master kills you so that he can give you back your reality that you have forgotten.