Keeper of the Key III

Previously …

 I opened my eyes filled with wistful longing. The burning doorway was gone and I found myself in a meadow with a gentle breeze carrying the scent of green, playfully tugging at my hair. Under a willow next to a stream I see the man who said he knew the way. He was resting against the tree and appeared to be in a day dream. He had however, aged. As I approached him, with his eyes still closed, he asked me,

“Are you dreaming ?”

 I did not expect that question;” If I am in a dream, then surely all I have to do, is wait until I wake up. It is pleasant enough here.”

“How do you know that you are in a dream and that this is not real? Perhaps this is all that there is.”

“If I am here and you are here, then we must have been born once, so we must have a mother and father, and they must have had a mother and father and so there must have been a history that preceded me in a world with a history of beginning somewhere. This place here, I have no idea where it is, or who I am here, or who you are. So it must be a dream.”

“ What if only dreams have a history and a location in space time and what is real have no history or space time continuum? Then this must be real.”

I felt confused. Of course that is what all wisdom traditions say, but this does not feel real either. I have no idea how I came to be here, or who I am suppose to be, or what I am. So this must be a dream.

He opened his eyes and the intensity of blueness surprised me. I do not remember that he had eyes like that and I would surely have remembered.

 “Do you remember going to sleep or what the beginning of this dream was then?”

All I remembered was that I went looking for something, stepped through a doorway and found myself in the warrior’s world. After that I was lost wandering from one place to another trying to find my way home and for some reason the key was my link to home. Above all though, I felt an anxious yearning to go home.

 ‘Why would I feel a yearning to find my way home, if I was home already?”

‘What is home to you?” Before I could answer he asked another question.
“Where did you get lost?”

 I did not even want to think of that place. I hate violence in any form. It hits me in the heart with its unflinching brutality and coarse barbarism.

 “Where did you get lost?”

“After I left the world of the warriors.”

“If that is the last place where you did not feel lost, then you must go back there. Perhaps when you are there you will remember how you got there and then will be able to find your way back.”

“Will you come with me?”

“Do you remember me being there with you?”

 He took a red ribbon from his pocket and handed it to me.
“Hang your key around your neck. You might need both hands free in that world.”

“How do I get back there? There are no doorways here?” I asked hoping that I would not have to go back there.

“Turn around; there is a doorway behind you.”

 Sure enough, there was a doorway behind me and through the doorway I could see the warrior’s world’s red desert landscape.


“Have courage.”

 I turned back to him but he had vanished with the meadow and I was left in dark place of nothingness. I had no choice but to step through.

 To be continued …

About the Keeper of the Keys …

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