What is the Pattern World?

There is something I want to qualify in what I said the other day—

There is nothing out here, which has not existed on the earth. 

Since then, I have learned that that statement is not exactly true. 

There are strata here. 

This I have learned recently. 

I still believe that in the lowest stratum next the earth, all or nearly all that exists has existed on earth in dense matter. 

Go a little farther up, a little farther away—how far I cannot say by actual measurement—but, the other night, in exploring, I got into the world of patterns, the paradigms—if that is the word—of things, which are to be on earth. 

I saw forms of things, which, so far as I know, have not existed on your planet—inventions, for example. 

I saw wings that man could adjust to himself. 

I also saw new forms of flying-machines; I saw model cities, and towers with strange wing-like projections on them, of which I could not imagine the use. 

The progress of mechanical invention is evidently only begun.

Another time, I will go on, farther up in that world of pattern forms, and see if I can learn what lies beyond it.

Bear this in mind—

I merely tell you stories, as an earthly traveller would tell, of the things I see. 

Sometimes my interpretation of them may be wrong.

When I was in the place, which we will call the pattern world, I saw almost nobody there—only an occasional lone voyager like myself. 

I naturally infer from this that but few of those who leave the earth go up there at all. 

I think from what I have seen, and from the conversations I have had with men and women souls, that most of them do not get very far from the earth, even out here.

It is strange, but many persons seem to be in the regular orthodox heaven, singing in white robes, with crowns on their heads, and with harps in their hands. 

There is a region which outsiders call the heaven country.

There is also, they tell me, a fiery hell, with at least the smell of brimstone, but so far, I have not been there. 

Some day, when I feel strong, I will look in, and if it is not too depressing, I will go farther—if they will let me.

For the present, I am looking about here and there, and I have not studied carefully any place as yet.

I took the boy, whose name by the way is Lionel, out with me yesterday. 

Perhaps we ought to say last night, for your day is our night when we are on your side of the great hollow sphere. 

You, and the solid earth, are in the centre of our sphere.

I took the boy out with me, for what you would call a walk.

First, we went to the old quarter of Paris, where I used to live in a former life, but Lionel could not see anything, and when I pointed out certain buildings to him, he asked me quite sincerely if I were dreaming. 

I must have some faculty, which is not generally developed among my fellow citizens in the astral country. 

So, when the boy found that Paris was only a figment of my imagination—he used to live in Boston—I took him to see heaven. 

He remarked—

Why, this must be the place my grandmother used to tell me about. But where is God?

That, I could not tell him, but, on looking again, we saw that nearly everybody was gazing in one direction. 

We also gazed with the others, and saw a great light, like a sun, only it was softer and less dazzling than the material sun.

That, I said to the boy, is what they see who see God.

And now, I have something strange to tell you, for, as we gazed at that light, slowly, there took a form between us and it, the figure, which we are accustomed to see represented, as that of the Christ. 

He smiled at the people and stretched out His hands to them.

Then the scene changed, and He had on His left arm, a lamb, and then again He stood as if transfigured upon a mountain; then He spoke and taught them. 

We could hear His voice. 

And then He vanished from our sight.