Imagine, for a moment, that you are walking into the Great Hall of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry; that, with the open heart and silver-dollar eyes of a child, you are entering a place that is thought only to live in the realms of fiction and fantasy. See if you can feel the glow of candlelight hovering above your head; see if you can sense the seemingly universal vastness of this immense hall and its boundless firmament of ceiling, as you shuffle forward in a clot of classmates, nearly overcome with a mixture of humility, gratitude, awe, a little dread, and above all, open wonder at thereality of it all. Now hold your awareness there, in that moment, and remain. Continue walking through this spacious, starry hall for a minute or so, and then turn slowly, to look back through the door that had stood, a little time before, between this reality and that dream, and ask yourself the question that an old Chinese philosopher once asked:

Once upon a time, I, Chuang Tsu, dreamed I was a butterfly flying happily here and there, enjoying life without knowing who I was. Suddenly I woke up and I was indeed Chuang Tsu. Did Chuang Tsu dream he was a butterfly, or did the butterfly dream he was Chuang Tsu? There must be some distinction between Chuang Tsu and the butterfly. This is a case of transformation.