THE LITTLE LAMP ON SECLUSION HILL

 
As the curtain opened on this dream of mine, I was in the vicinity of Meherazad, having walked across endless miles of barren fields and rough terrain for days on end in search of my objective: Seclusion Hill.

In the dream I was a man dressed in the clothes of a fakir. I was exhausted, dragging my feet, and heading in the dark towards the west. For miles around there was no sign of any human habitation.

Suddenly I saw a light shining far away in the west. I staggered towards the light and came upon a little cottage with a fence around it. At the gate was a man holding a lantern with which to guide wayfarers lost in the dark.

"Please sir," I said, "can you tell me the way to Seclusion Hill?"

Without saying a word, he turned and pointed towards the southern sky where I could faintly see the dim silhouette of Seclusion Hill. I was overcome with relief to have found the way at last, and after conveying my thanks I walked away. Suddenly, realising that perhaps this man was only the caretaker of the cottage, I went back to him and asked, "Please can you tell me who lives in this house?"

He answered, "Sabir" (the "Patient One," whom I understood to mean Baba.)

Now going towards the Hill, I began to climb it, happy to be finally reaching my goal. It was dark and very windy. Three-quarters of the way up the Hill, I was amazed to see a tiny light twinkling on the slope of the Hill. In wonder, I dropped on my knees to observe it closely.

There I saw a little earthenware oil lamp, lit with a cotton-wool wick as commonly done in Indian homes. Around this little lamp were three bricks carefully upended as a shelter for the flame, so that the wind would not blow it out!

Somehow this dream touched me deeply. I awoke praising Baba's compassion and thought, "Isn't it just like Him to protect His young flames along the way to Him!"