Feb. 20, 1977
My
being in the Ngorongoro Crater may have something to do with the vivid dream
from which I awoke this morning. Three
alterations, however: one, that the crater in the dream was just a half
kilometer wide; two, it was sunken into the ground to a depth of a full
kilometer, strangely without its floor being flooded; and three, on the crater
floor was two hundred estates, each with a palatial mansion. And so the dream went:
will say that the
sky is small.
Another may even
insist to tell
that there is no
sky at all
but a hole in The
World’s ceiling overhead
through which the
light from Heaven is shed.
Of a great dried
well was indeed what I dreamed
on whose bottom I
was born and raised it seemed.
So dried this
world of a well had become
Two hundred ponds
were all that remained in sum,
each claimed and
owned by one walled estate
who regarded its
neighbours with jealousy and hate.
The wall of the
well was high as the sky,
surrounding the
World Village an unbroken cliff,
to try scaling
which many have died falling,
and some by
leaping, all understood why
who have sought
an escape, no ‘but’, nor ‘if’,
as they heard
again their freedom’s calling.
For though of
mansions our well-world was full,
and magnificent
they could all be deemed,
yet the
barbed-wire spoke of peace unachieved,
and feuds amongst
families raged bloody and cruel.
To their gods
they prayed, of palaces they dreamed,
but few for what
vision had yet to be conceived.
Our world, sadly,
was not brimming with wealth.
Fuel and building
materials were in short supply.
Sooner or later
we would surely kill
for the last
wheelbarrow of coal, by force or stealth.
Afterwards, they
say, “I’ll suffer their orphans’ cry.”
Meanwhile, there’s
no doubt if they won’t or will.
Still the root
cause of this predicament persisted –
to out-luxuriate
the Chans and Wongs bar none.
A few spoke of
consequences but none had resisted
this tradition
passed on from father to son.
To honour this
cause entire generations had insisted,
a purpose upheld,
if not fulfilled, by everyone.
It was certainly
not fulfilled, if still upheld, by me.
Examine my
purchasing record, and you’d agree.
My estate was
still in grandeur, but grandeur in decline.
About the only
thing new was in this garden of mine –
a giant question
mark, paved in stone. But then,
what eyes could
see it except those in Heaven?
Besides, what
eyes in this world would even care?
It came as no
surprise, therefore,
when Raminothna
descended into this world-at-war,
the landing was
made here and not over there.
She told me about
the boundless universe beyond
this miserable
little world of which I was not fond.
And I was told of
the myriad living things
inhabiting those
wondrous realms above,
and of the
spiritual freedom that knowledge brings,
and universal
truth, and peace, and love.
Like a caged
tiger I began to pace
within my
confining, confounding space.
Finally, I
confronted Raminothna, saying,
“What are you
here for?” And her reply:
“To bring you
deliverance. To set you free.”
But her discarded
wings I could plainly see.
In ill-concealed
skepticism I continued to pry:
“And how do you
plan to accomplish that? By staying?”
“By persuading
you to build a stairway, my love,
one leading to
the domains above.”
“What with? Do you realize what that would demand?
And that supplies
are stockpiled, but none by me?”
said Raminothna, “and
supplies aplenty.”
Following her
illuminating eyes I was shocked to see
they’re fixed on
this mansion of mine. I replied in
dismay,
“I would gladly
take my house apart, stone by stone,
and transform it
into a stairway to Heaven, on my own,
if I knew that
the last stone would set me free.
But plainly, it
wouldn’t take me a hundredth of the way.”
“Then let it be
the foundation of your stairway to Heaven.”
“After that, what
then? I have nothing else, not even a
dime.”
“I see more than
enough, considering all your brethren.”
Following
Raminothna’s eyes again, I saw this time
they were
sweeping the mansions all around, stone and gem.
“I see. And how do you propose to persuade them?”
Thereupon,
Raminothna’s penetrating gaze
moved to fix
itself upon my face.
So shocked was I
the dream ejected me
but then, in the
dawn light I see
in the mirror
misted in the morning chill
that her gaze is
fixed upon mine eyes still.