What Does Enlightenment Actually Feel Like? Not Becoming Superman, But Waking Up from a Long 'Dream'

In the story about Venerable Ānanda, we mentioned how he "awakened" in that moment of extreme exhaustion, his head not yet touching the pillow.

Many people reading this find it mystifying: what exactly happened in that instant? Was it like movie special effects—suddenly his divine eye opened and he saw the mysteries of the universe? Or like a martial arts novel—suddenly acquiring supernatural powers?

Actually, enlightenment isn't that dramatic.

If I were to explain it in the most straightforward terms, enlightenment is this: You suddenly realize that the life you thought was completely real is actually a "first-person perspective" movie. And you're no longer the "protagonist" being tortured by the script—you've become the "audience" sitting in the seats.

The Biggest Misconception: We Think Enlightenment Is "Gaining," But It's Actually "Losing"

We habitually think of enlightenment as "addition":

I'm weak now; after enlightenment I'll become stronger, smarter, calmer, more loving. We're like playing an RPG, grinding levels, hoping to eventually become a maxed-out god.

But the Buddha tells us that enlightenment is actually "subtraction."

It's not about becoming Superman—it's about losing something: illusion.

What illusion? The illusion that "there's a solid, real 'me'".

Why Do We Suffer? Because We're "Too Deep in Character"

Imagine you're having a nightmare. In the dream, a tiger is chasing you.

Your heart races, cold sweat pours, terror reaches its peak. For that "you" in the dream, this tiger is real, the threat of death is real.

But if in the dream you suddenly realize: "Wait—this is a dream!"

At this point, has the tiger disappeared? No, it's still chasing. Is your body still running? Probably still running. But your fear has disappeared.

Why? Because you know: "The tiger in the dream can't hurt me lying in bed."

This is what enlightenment feels like.

In real life, the "tiger chasing you" might be:

• Your boss's mood
• Your bank account balance
• Your partner's complaints
• Your anxiety about the future

For the unenlightened, we are that person desperately running in the dream. We take all of this as real, we think these things will hurt "me," so we suffer, defend, attack. This is called "being too deep in character."

The enlightened person is the one who wakes up within this big dream of life. They still go to work, earn money, take care of family (like still running in the dream), but deep down they know: these are all phenomena arising from causes and conditions, they come and go, and they cannot define or harm the true essence of life.

What Happened in Ānanda's Moment? The Shattering of "Protagonist Aura"

Back to Ānanda's story. Why didn't he awaken while striving hard, but awakened when lying down?

Because when he was striving, there was still a powerful "protagonist" performing in his mind.

That protagonist was saying: "I must try hard," "I must attain enlightenment," "I can't shame the Buddha."

As long as this "I" exists, he's still in the drama. He's using a "character in the dream" to search for "a way to wake up"—which itself is futile.

Right at the moment when he was exhausted, decided to give up, and go to sleep—this "protagonist" collapsed from fatigue and temporarily went offline.

That tense "self" loosened its grip.

Right at that instant, the play stopped, the audience woke up.

He discovered that there was never any need to "strive for enlightenment"—the essence of awakening was always there, just blocked by that jumping-around "me." Like clouds dispersing to reveal the sun that was always there—you didn't "create" the sun.

Mini-Enlightenments in Daily Life: Seeing the World Through the "Empty Boat"

Enlightenment sounds distant, but we actually have similar experiences often in daily life.

Zhuangzi told a story about an "empty boat" that's perfect as a metaphor for enlightenment:

You're rowing across the river, and a boat from the opposite direction crashes into you. If there's someone in that boat, you'll shout: "Are you blind?!" If they ignore you, you get angry. If they hit you again, you explode with rage. But if the other boat is "empty"—no one inside, just drifted over by the current. Even if it hurts when it hits you, you won't get angry. At most you'll just push it away.

Why? Because there's no target to project your anger onto.

• Your boss scolds you not because they're targeting you, but because they're under performance pressure (the wind blew them over).
• Your child doesn't listen not to anger you, but because their prefrontal cortex isn't fully developed yet (the current pushed them over).

When you stop interpreting others' behavior as "attacks on me," when you see the countless causes and conditions behind everything, anger simply can't arise.

In that moment, you've shifted from "victim" to "observer." This is a mini-enlightenment.

How to Practice "Waking Up"?

You don't need to wait until you're seventy or eighty. You don't need to hide in the mountains. You can practice "waking up" in everyday life.

Next time you feel extreme anger, anxiety, or sadness, try hitting the pause button and asking yourself one question:

• Is it the character called "[Your Name]" who's angry?
• Then who is the one watching this character being angry?

When you begin to watch your emotions rather than become your emotions, you're already standing at the doorway of awakening.

You don't need to eliminate emotions—you just need to watch them, like watching clouds drift across the sky.

The clouds will disperse, leaving no trace in the sky.

This is freedom.