A few weeks ago I had a dreamy-dream, one in which everything was very vivid and I had a distinct floating sensation, as if I was levitating. I sat at a table and had a meal with someone while we were encapsulated in a bubble that was drifting among the stars.

At one point I was floating on my back a few feet above the ground and felt like I was being wheeled on a hospital gurney. I looked up at the creature who was pushing me along, his eyes all buggy and luminously green, and he said, “There is so much more than just the universe to see.” As can happen in dreams – or other altered states of consciousness – this seemed tremendously profound, the answer to everything, the meaning of life.

Even now, several weeks later, the phrase keeps tickling the edges of my brain, inserting its New Age-y, crystal-wearing, drum-circle-participating self into my thoughts. Maybe it would make a good book title, although I can’t quite imagine it tripping off of Oprah’s tongue.

Perhaps it should be otherwise immortalized. My daughter is turning 16 this summer and toward the end of the year I will turn 50. She suggested that we commemorate these two important birthdays with a bonding event. In the form of joint tattoos. I wonder what size font I’d have to select in order to have these words inked in a very tiny, very inconspicuous location.