I dream a dream in which I find myself on the grounds of a university where people go to
study the “transcendental arts.” These include disciplines, practices and subjects which
relate to the spiritual world, such as the art of the dream.
A new building is under construction there which seems to be a house of worship. It is a
vast, beautiful and divinely majestic place filled with the music of spiritual love. A narrow
little path runs in front of the new building and on the other side of the path there is a
modest wooden shack, about the size of a tool shed. I walk over to the shack and gaze
through an opening in the wall. It is filled, curiously enough, with bee-hives neatly
arranged in parallel rows...
For many years I have been dreaming of a house
And sometimes it is new
And sometimes it is old
And when it is new it is new because
The dream of the house is a spiritual vision
In which all loves are one love
In which all gods are one god
And when it is old it is old because
Just as the limbs of a great tree are like trees in themselves,
The rooms of the house,
Though independent and unique in many ways,
Nevertheless share the same beginning,
The same deep, primordial root.
Word of the Dream:
For many years I have been dreaming of a house,
I have seen it in a meadow between groves of pine,
On top of a mountain in a place of beauty,
A place untouched,
I have seen it in a wilderness,
Fresh and pristine,
Where nothing had ever been built before.
I have seen it too on the street where I live,
Unassuming, simple and small.
With many people gathered at the door,
Of every race and every religion.
I remember the women dressed in saris,
And a little boy from Africa who grabbed hold of my leg and walked with me wherever I went.
"What's going on here?" I ask the boy
"A carefully planned, integrated service"
Replies a woman standing on the grass.