Heaven was a series of concentric spheres, which he found mildly surprising, though possibly that was just how he held it in his mind; it was never clear what was real and what was merely conceptual, or even if there was a meaningful distinction between the two. God was both the center around which everything else revolved and the final enclosing sphere that set all the rest in motion; a fixed point and a prime move, an unstoppable force and an immovable object contradictorily.
It was almost frustrating.
The tension made him restless, kept him wandering, intermixing with every other vaguely disquieted spirit. It wasn’t an unpleasant sensation, exactly, but neither was it soothing, and somehow he’d expected soothing. An eternity of peace, love, and infinite knowledge, and somehow, still, he was dissatisfied; so it goes.