Ah - but Nietzsche is the one who proclaimed "God is dead!". He's been totally anti-religion/supernaturalism/etc.
I understand differently than the both of you, DawnEye and ViIe, but that's also the beauty of Nietzsche. While going after secondary sources on him and his concepts, it's been astounding in how many different ways people choose to interpret him. So I want to make it clear, that I by no means want to claim to have the "correct" perspective.
I said, Nietzsche would have proclaimed the death of god, and that's not entirely correct. It was famous Zarathustra of his novel proclaiming thus, while I would stick my neck out and claim, Nietzsche was well aware that there never was a god, and probably said so as well.
This conundrum of differentiating between him lying words into the mouths of characters within a novel, and his very own voice, as used in the purely philosophical texts, seems a source of misunderstanding, too.
My conclusion from coming across so many different viewpoints, was to finally "do the clever thing" - I went for my own. Viewpoint, that is - I started to read "Thus Spake Zarathustra", and I have to say, I'm absolutely delighted. I really see it as poetry and not gospel, mind you. N was abhorred by things like "gospel", "dogma" etc. It's difficult to gauge for me, how it might come across to English natives, but in the German version it sears into my heart and mind, if you excuse my language, and in English it feels farther removed.
It is a story, and while of course Z expresses much of what N thought, it's a figure anyway, with it's own characteristics, it's not N = Z.
I just started, and feel like quoting extensively - but I don't expect widespread enthusiasm, which is fine with me.
But if you check out the second part below, it should be obvious how easy it is to "get" or "extract" the wrong message, or a message from the wrong speaker, when flying over this book. And he's glorified dreams in a side-comment of that part, so I thought I'd have excuse for quoting like a madwoman... 
In the prologue, Z came down from seclusion on a mountain to bring a "joyous message", maybe one could say so, and is now wandering about looking for companions, after the suboptimal reception of a speech he delivered in a marketplace. Here we go:
1. The Three Metamorphoses
Three metamorphoses of the spirit do I designate to you: now the spirit becometh a camel, the camel a lion, and the lion at last a child.
Many heavy things are there for the spirit, the strong load-bearing spirit in which the reverence dwelleth: for the heavy and the heaviest longeth its strength.
What is heavy? so asketh the load-bearing spirit; then kneeleth it down like the camel, and wanteth to be well laden.
What is the heaviest things, ye heroes? asketh the load-bearing spirit, that I may take it upon me and rejoice in my strength.
Is it not this: To humiliate oneself in order to mortify one's pride? To exhibit one's folly in order to mock at one's wisdom?
Or is it this: To desert our cause when it celebrateth its triumph? To ascend high mountains to tempt the temper?
Or is it this: To feed on the acorns and grass of knowledge, and for the sake of truth to suffer hunger of soul?
Or is it this: To be sick and dismiss comforters, and make friends of the deaf, who never hear thy requests?
Or is it this: To go into foul water when it is the water of truth, and not disclaim cold frogs and hot toads?
Or is it this: To love those who despise us, and to give one's hand to the phantom when it is going to frighten us?
All these heaviest things the load-bearing spirit taketh upon itself: and like the camel, which, when laden, hasteneth into the wilderness, so hasteneth the spirit into its wilderness. But in the loneliest wilderness happeneth the second metamorphosis: here the spirit becometh a lion; freedom will it capture, and lordship in its own wilderness.
Its last Lord it here seeketh: hostile will it be to him, and to its last God; for victory will it struggle with the great dragon.
What is the great dragon which the spirit is no longer inclined to call Lord and God? "Thou-shalt," is the great dragon called. But the spirit of the lion saith, "I will."
"Thou-shalt," lieth in its path, sparkling with gold—a scale-covered beast; and on every scale glittereth golden, "Thou shalt!"
The values of a thousand years glitter on those scales, and thus speaketh the mightiest of all dragons: "All the values of things—glitter on me.
All values have already been created, and all created values—do I represent. Verily, there shall be no 'I will' any more." Thus speaketh the dragon.
My brethren, wherefore is there need of the lion in the spirit? Why sufficeth not the beast of burden, which renounceth and is reverent?
To create new values—that, even the lion cannot yet accomplish: but to create itself freedom for new creating—that can the might of the lion do.
To create itself freedom, and give a holy Nay even unto duty: for that, my brethren, there is need of the lion.
To assume the ride into new values—that is the most formidable assumption for a load-bearing and reverent spirit. Verily, unto such a spirit it is preying, and the work of a beast of prey.
As its holiest, it once loved "Thou-shalt": now it is forced to find illusion and arbitrariness even in the holiest things, that it may capture freedom from its love: the lion is needed for this capture.
But tell me, my brethren, what the child can do, which even the lion could not do? Why hath the preying lion still to become a child?
Innocence is the child, and forgetfulness, and a new beginning, a game, a self-rolling wheel, a first movement, a holy Yea.
Aye, for the game of creating, my brethren, there is needed a holy Yea unto life: its own will, willeth now the spirit; his own world winneth the world's outcast.
Three metamorphoses of the spirit have I designated to you: how the spirit became a camel, the camel a lion, and the lion at last a child.—
Thus spake Zarathustra. And at that time he abode in the town which is called The Pied Cow.
2. The Academic Chairs of Virtue
People commended unto Zarathustra a wise man, as one who could discourse well about sleep and virtue: greatly was he honoured and rewarded for it, and all the youths sat before his chair. To him went Zarathustra, and sat among the youths before his chair. And thus spake the wise man:
Respect and modesty in presence of sleep! That is the first thing! And to go out of the way of all who sleep badly and keep awake at night!
Modest is even the thief in the presence of sleep: He always stealeth softly through the night. Immodest, however, is the night-watchman; immodestly he carrieth his horn. No small art is it to sleep: it is necessary for that purpose to keep awake all day.
Ten times a day must thou overcome thyself: that causeth wholesome weariness, and is poppy to the soul.
Ten times must thou reconcile again with thyself; for overcoming is bitterness, and badly sleep the unreconciled.
Ten truths must thou find during the day; otherwise wilt thou seek truth during the night, and they soul will have been hungry.
Ten times must thou laugh during the day, and be cheerful; otherwise thy stomach, the father of affliction, will disturb thee in the night.
Few people know it, but one must have all the virtues in order to sleep well. Shall I bear false witness? Shall I commit adultery?
Shall I covet my neighbour's maidservant? All that would ill accord with good sleep.
And even if one have all the virtues, there is still one thing needful: to send the virtues themselves to sleep at the right time.
That they may not quarrel with one another, the good females*! And about thee, thou unhappy one!
Peace with God and they neighbour: so desireth good sleep. And peace also with they neighbour's devil! Otherwise it will haunt thee in the night.
Honour to the government, and obedience, and also to the crooked government! So desireth good sleep. How can I help it, if power liketh to walk on crooked legs?
He who leadeth his sheep to the greenest pasture, shall always be for me the best shepherd: so doth it accord with good sleep. Many honours I want not, nor great treasures: they excite the spleen. But it is bad sleeping without a good name and a little treasure.
A small company is more welcome to me than a bad one: but they must come and go at the right time. So doth it accord with good sleep.
Well, also, do the poor in spirit please me: they promote sleep. Blessed are they, especially if one always give in to them.
Thus passeth the day unto the virtuous. When night cometh, then take I good care not to summon sleep. It disliketh to be summoned—sleep, the lord of the virtues!
But I think of what I have done and thought during the day. Thus ruminating, patient as a cow, I ask myself: What were they ten overcomings?
And what were the ten reconciliations, and the ten truths, and the ten laughters with which my heart enjoyed itself?
Thus pondering, and cradled by forty thoughts, it over taketh me all at once - sleep, the unsummoned, the lord of the virtues.
Sleep tappeth on mine eye, and it turneth heavy. Sleep toucheth my mouth, and it remaineth open.
Verily, on the soft soles doth it come to me, the dearest of thieves, and stealeth from me my thoughts: stupid to I then stand, like this academic chair.
But not much longer do I then stand: I already lie. -
When Zarathustra heard the wise man thus speak, he laughed in his heart: for thereby had a light dawned upon him and thus spake he to his heart:
A fool seemeth this wise man with his forty thoughts: but I believe he knoweth well how to sleep.
Happy even is he who liveth near this wise man! Such sleep is contagious—even through a thick wall it is contagious. A magic resideth even in his academic chair. And not in vain did the youths sit before the preacher of virtue.
His wisdom is to keep awake in order to sleep well. And verily, if life had no sense, and I had to choose nonsense, this would be the desirablest nonsense for me also.
Now know I well what people sought formerly above all else when they sought teachers of virtue. Good sleep they sought for themselves, and a poppy-head virtues to promote it!
To all those belauded sages of the academic chairs, wisdom was sleep without dreams: they knew no higher significance of life.
Even at present, to be sure, there are some like this preacher of virtue, and not always so honourable: but their time is past. And not much longer do they stand: there they already lie.
Blessed are those drowsy ones: for they shall soon nod to sleep.—
Thus spake Zarathustra.
Well - obviously I hope, somebody might enjoy it, even find profoundness in it, like I do - otherwise, just ignore me! 
Oh - but I do of course not know, how I will like the rest of it, still holding my breath a bit, there.
*It does not say, "good females" in the original, what it does say is "artige Weiblein", a diminishing term for mostly older, fussy, affected women. What I'm saying is, he's not lumping together all women here.
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