To be, or not to be, that is the question:
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous Fortune,
or to take arms against a sea of troubles, and by opposing end them:
To die, to sleep no more; and by a sleep, to say we end the heart-ache, and the thousand natural shocks that flesh is heir to?
'Tis a consummation devoutly to be wished.
To die, to sleep, to sleep, perchance to dream; aye, there's the rub,
For in that sleep of death, what dreams may come, when we have shuffled off this mortal coil, must give us pause.
The Bard nails it once again. Perhaps the prospect that our dreams foreshadow life after death should give us pause. One of our many Zen poets, Sengcan of the 6th-7th century China would add:
Emptiness here, emptiness there, but the infinite universe stands always before your eyes.
Infinitely large and infinitely small; no difference, for definitions have vanished and no boundaries are seen. So too with being and non-being.
So Zen tells us that the apparent boundary line between being and non-being is just that. Apparent. A little more amenable to bridging may be that between sleeping and waking: dreaming.
I have long been fascinated with dreams. I have memories of unusual dreams going back to childhood. But nobody ever talks about their dreams, so I learned to put them in my back pocket at an early age. However, I later learned that, in other cultures, dreams are given a place of importance. Mainly in what we refer to as primitive cultures, to be sure, such as that of the aboriginal tribes in Australia. But native Americans also respected dreams, as did earlier European and Asian cultures, and developed theories or myths as to their import for our lives.