Some mornings I get up, maybe too early, and stumble through my kitchen in the process of 'creating' a cup of coffee for myself and my wife. Not fully awake, I'm likely to imagine almost anything. And under such circumstances, and even being a creative artist, (with all the license that gives me,) I could not have been prepared to confront eternity in my cup.
          Here's how it worked: I poured the steaming brew into two cups, sweetened each according to preference. And I added half-and-half; a small dollop for each. As the creamer dissolved and sank into the dark coffee, it set up a swirling motion.
          I was reminded of what I'd read of Chaos theory; of how shapes and forms repeat naturally throughout what we know of our world. Perhaps it was the depth of the cup, or maybe the viscosity of the beverage, causing the mixture to circle as it did.
          I watched, with sleep-dimmed eyes, as a familiar pinwheel shape formed in the eddies, while the mixture, self-propelled, continued. I noticed in the arms of the pinwheel there were areas of density - lumps which hadn't yet mixed. Or were these shapes of coalescence? Was I party to the vision of a coffee-cup metaphor for the formation of our solar system? Was I looking back in time to the origins of our home? Of my humanity? 
          The nucleus of the spin, as I watched, drew in on itself, to become more dense, smaller. The initial pinwheel arms in the outer region of the pinwheel broke away, and new ones formed, peeling away from the nucleus. I was not looking at the formation of the solar system; I was looking at our galaxy! On some dazzlingly larger scale, thus was formed the Milky Way.
          I turned away for a moment, to reach for a spoon, and when I looked back, the celestial coffee cup show was over. The nucleus and its arms had disappeared, and the cream was now more or less evenly dispersed into the drink. As I carried the coffee into the bedroom to awaken her, greet the morning with her, share our wake-up caffeine, Some thoughts filtered through my mind.
          Had I been treated in some mystical fashion to a picture  of universal truth? Was this a vision of the future of all things? Had existence perhaps begun as this, with one element dropped off into another, with the following interactions? Was I seeing the ongoing progress of the universe, with its own celestial creamers still swirling in the cosmic coffee plasma? Was all life, then, fated to end, once all the elements from the Big Bang had a chance to remix? Would we all become Cafe au Lait at the end of time? Such cosmological rumination was too much for my not-yet-vividly-awake brain to process.
          My reverie ended, as I handed my wife her cup. "You look bad," she said.
          "Fresh woke," I replied.
          "You look like you're still in dreamland!"
          Yes indeed.