Descriptions · Religion

Of childhood dreams.


An infinity of empty blackness. This chasm of nothingness seems to extend limitlessly.  It is otherworldly – it seems to have existed since eternity, before time began, and til after time will cease.

In the middle of the emptiness a row of chairs is suspended, extending on both sides into the distance, further than the eye can see. These chairs are glowing with a soft golden light. They are oddly royal-looking, with high backs and seats made of red velvet, and golden carvings on the edges. Seated in them are human figures. Some are alone, at a distance, while others are grouped. The figures also seem to glow with an internal light… strong, austere and beautiful. They are all men.

In the very centre of the row is a chair larger and more elaborate than the others.  In this sits a youngish looking man. His black hair falls to his shoulders.  His face, which is handsome beyond measure, glows with a light more beautiful than the others seated there – more beautiful, in  fact, than any mortal man could possess. He is wearing a long white robe. In his lap sits a little girl. She is brown-skinned, wearing a short pink frock, and her thick black hair, which the man strokes gently, is cut in a bob. She cannot be older than six.  She seems perfectly relaxed in the lap of the great man, and cuddles close to him, while he holds her tenderly. The girl is very happy, content and peaceful. Peeking over his arm, she can see another man a few seats away: tall and bearded, also important-looking, but far more serious and austere.  He is looking straight into the distance. She snuggles closer to the beautiful man, who is kinder and whom she loves. She wishes she never has to leave, that she could sit in the lap of this good, gentle man forever.

After a while, or after an eternity, the man stirs, and murmurs something to the little girl. Reluctantly, she slides off his lap. For a second, she stands on nothing, suspended in front of the beautiful man with the radiant face, holding tightly on to his hand. Then, as he gives it one final pat and lets go of it, the black emptiness seems to exert itself. And I find myself falling, falling into the blackness with no way to get back up…falling, uncontrollably, irresistibly into the black pit of oblivion…

 

Shuddering, I wake up.

————

Now, dreams can’t be ‘prophet’ic…can they?

————

Advertisements

7 thoughts on “Of childhood dreams.

  1. Imagine what the man might have whispered into the girl’s ears…. “Beti jao… wahan pohonch ke iss sab pe blog zurur likhna”honch ke iss sab pe blog zurur likhna”

  2. If I am misreading this post, please simply delete my comment. Continued best wishes! ~Dr. Jaggi

    Even when the comfort of such a loving ‘prophet’-ic hand might no longer be at hand — for many who pursue the sciences, this is part of the process of growing up– one does not have to “fall, uncontrollably, irresistibly into the black pit of oblivion.” That hand and that lap, they shape our sensitivity and our humanity in ways that can continue to comfort us, nurture us, and give us a sense of place in this vast universe which can, sometimes, seem like “the black pit of oblivion”.

    1. Thank you so much for that comment. I think I have passed that stage where I considered oblivion as the only consequence to losing the comfort of childhood convictions, though in the period of transition it did seem as though nihilism would take over, and that nothing really mattered. Yet after “falling”, to my surprise, I did eventually land on soft ground, and found a land beyond the myths.

      But what you mentioned about these concept we learn in childhood, continuing to comfort and influence us, that is something that hadn’t occurred to me, and yet I guess you’re right. So thank you for that thought. 🙂 I shall think of it more.

  3. This has happened to me. At around the age of 13 I awoke running from my bed into the living room I flung myself onto the couch where upon I found myself in the grip of terror as I had the frightening sensation of falling endlessly into a black pit. This was accompanied by a sensation that I felt that i cannot describe other then very uncomfortable. The next morning sitting down for breakfast no one mentioned this but I brought it up because i know I awoke my family because I was screaming during this episode. The memory and terror is still very fresh and vivid in my mind and to this day this is my interpertation of what hell must be

    1. that sounds like quite an unpleasant experience. In my case I don’t think I interpreted falling into the chasm as hell, per se, but more as a sort of falling away, a Loss, as though I’d genuinely possessed a closeness to the Divine that I couldn’t maintain. Or so my retrospective interpretation is. It was saddening rather than unpleasant or frightening.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s