For about ten minutes everything disappears in wakeless sleep – although these ten minutes are available only to one who is completely healthy and peaceful, not to everyone. Others get this kind of sleep anywhere from one to five minutes; most people get only two, or one minute of deep sleep. The little juice we receive in that one minute of reaching to the source of life, we apply to making our next twenty-four hours work. Whatever little amount of oil the lamp receives in that short period, we utilize it to carry on our lives for a full twenty-four hours. The lamp of one’s life burns on whatsoever amount of oil it receives then. This is the reason the lamp burns so slow: not enough oil is collected to make the lamp of life burn brightly so it can become a flaming torch.
Meditation brings you slowly to the source of life. Then it is not that you keep taking a handful of nourishment out of it, you are simply in the source itself. Then it is not that you refill your lamp with more oil – then the entire ocean of oil becomes available to you. Then you begin to live in that very ocean. With that kind of living, sleep disappears – not in the sense that one doesn’t sleep any more, but in the sense that even when one is asleep, someone within remains wide awake. Then dreams exist no more. A yogi stays awake; he sleeps, but he never dreams – his dreams disappear totally. And when dreams disappear, thoughts disappear. What we know as thoughts in the wakeful state are called dreams in the sleeping state. There is only a slight difference between thoughts and dreams: thoughts are slightly more civilized dreams, while dreams are a little primitive in nature. Of the two, one is the original thought.
In fact, children, or the aboriginal tribes, can think only in pictures, not in words. Man’s first thoughts are always in pictures. For example, when a child is hungry he does not think in words, “I am hungry.” A child can visualize the mother’s breast; he can imagine himself sucking the breast. He can be filled with the desire to go to the breast, but he cannot form the words. The word formation starts much later; pictures appear first.
When we don’t know a particular language, we use pictures to express ourselves as well. If you happen to go to a foreign country and you don’t know the language, and you want to drink water, you can cup your palms to your mouth and the stranger will understand that you are thirsty – because when words are not at hand, the need for pictures arises. And the interesting thing is that languages of words are different in different places, but the language of pictures is universal – because every man’s picture language is the same.
We have invented different words, but pictures are not our invention. Pictures are the universal language of the human mind. A painting, therefore, is understood anywhere in the world. There is no need to change your language to understand a sculpture at Khajuraho or a painting by Leonardo. A sculpture at Khajuraho will be as understood by a Chinese, a Frenchman and a German, as it is by you. And if you visit the museum of the Louvre in France, you will have no difficulty in following the paintings either. You may not understand the titles, because they are in French, but you will have no problem following the painting. The language of pictures is everyone’s language.