Why is it not possible to think our perception of life as just the outer layer wrapped around the insides and enveloped within larger containers?
A nesting doll of consciousnesses. Growing infinitesimally large and right now we're stuck somewhere in there, could be near the end or closer to the beginning, there's no way to tell. We experience anterior and posterior layers during sleep but right now we're stuck inbetween them as long as we're breathing.
When we die, if you could really call it a death, maybe we just go on to whatever's next, and this life will be but merely a dream in the next and so on and so on and so forth.
And probably there really is no end. Maybe not even a beginning. How beautiful to think.
=Something to groove on=
