There is a point in every ascent when returning to the old level is no longer possible. The distance itself becomes a message.

As the lift continued, there came a moment when I realized: I was no longer just hovering above the ground. I was leaving it. The separation that began as inches grew into a clear, undeniable distance. The place where my feet had once stood was now visibly below me.

The crowd that had once surrounded me formed a circle that grew smaller as I rose. Faces tilted upward, eyes fixed, mouths open in awe and disbelief. I could see their expressions more clearly than before — not because I was closer, but because the higher viewpoint allowed me to see the whole scene at once.

The spiritual leader, once the center of their attention, now looked upward as well. The dream did not erase him; it simply shifted the story. He, too, had to acknowledge what was happening. The authority he carried on the ground could not command the sky.

Below me, the noise of the crowd began to lose its sharpness. Voices blended into a single low sound, like distant waves against a shore I was leaving behind. I felt no anger toward them, no desire to prove anything. The distance was not punishment — it was placement.

The farther I rose, the clearer the pattern became: I was being taken out of the level where human power systems, spiritual competition, and crowd-based authority ruled. From above, those systems looked small, like markings drawn in dust that a single wind could erase.

There was a tenderness in the way the ground fell away. It did not vanish violently. It simply receded, like a season that had served its purpose. I felt gratitude — for the ground that had carried me until this point, for the people who had walked with me there, and for the call that refused to leave me at that level.

At this height, I understood something profound: once destiny lifts you beyond a certain point, you cannot pretend to be ordinary again. You may return to serve, to love, to walk among people, but you will never again be able to lie to yourself about where you were called to stand.

The ground did not disappear. It simply took its rightful place beneath the assignment that now rested above it. I had crossed a threshold. The next parts of the dream would not be about leaving the earth, but about what happens when heaven begins to speak about why I was lifted at all.