Dreaming of the Beloved

De Simple Silence.

[modifier] Baba, Please Don't Wake Me Up !

The following dream is not unique, in the sense that my listeners assure me they too have had a similar dream experience. But for me it is very special because of my interplay with Baba during such dreams whenever they occur.

First I'm going through an ordinary dream. Suddenly the gears change and I find myself fully awake within the dream, i.e., I'm fully aware that I'm dreaming. I find myself performing impossible feats like flying over trees and touching the clouds, with a sense of freedom and abandon unknown in wake state. And I tell myself, "Oh how I want this dream to continue on and on!" But I also know that Baba will never allow it; that shortly after I'm aware that I'm dreaming, Baba will switch off the dream. Every time it happens I wish myself better luck next time.

One such dream-within-a-dream that I recall specially, was seeing Gulmai, mother of Baba's early secretary Adi K. Irani. She was standing at the far end of the railway platform in Poona. I was standing at the other end of the platform far away, but could see her clearly. She was gesturing excitedly, inviting me to come over where she was and see what she was seeing around the corner of the platform. I was so curious to see the object of Gulmai's admiration at the other end, that I started to run towards her, while desperately pleading with Baba not to wake me up for a while. "Please, please, Baba," I pleaded, "don't wake me up. I have to see what Gulmai wants to show me, please, Baba..." I kept running faster and faster to reach her in time. Just a few feet away from Gulmai, the dream evaporated and as I woke up I felt sure I could see Him smile.

[modifier] Earthquake At The Nunnery

I found myself standing in a room of a big stone building which seemed to be part of a nunnery. Dressed in a nun's habit, I was holding in my hands a photo-frame of good size, with no glass and no picture in it, that I kept looking through. When I gazed out the windows of the room, I could see the rest of the stone buildings which formed the large complex of the nunnery.

Suddenly the ground began to shake, and rocked as in an earthquake. I clung on tight to the empty frame in my hands, and called out, "Baba, Baba, Baba!" Then I thought, better play it safe, and called out, "Meher Baba, Meher Baba, Meher Baba!" After a while the quake stopped and the ground was still. When I looked out of the windows I saw that all the other structures which had been there before, had been razed to the ground by the quake. Only the one room in which I had stood calling out Baba's Name was left intact.

I had this dream of Babajan years after She had passed away.

She was the only woman Perfect Master during our beloved Avatar's time. But if anyone referred to Her as a woman, She would go into a rage and swear at the culprit in no mild terms. Which is why She was never called "Amma" (mother) - "jan", but "Baba" (father) - "jan". "Jan is an endearment meaning "precious as life". Her fanatic preference for being called a man had nothing to do with gender. It was referral to the courage and strength that were attributed to men in the old days when wars were fought and won by men, while women were protected as the weaker counterpart. So when one is faced with the battle of all battles, the battle over your lower self, and comes through it as Conqueror, it is natural to attribute such strength and courage to that of a "Man".

As a young girl in Poona, my most favourite evening walk was to Babajan's, in the company of my mother. Babajan would be seated under Her neem tree in a small area edged by a brass railing. This made me refer to it as "Babajan's cradle". Part of the tree trunk had encroached within the "cradle". And whenever She called me to Her, I would be happy to find myself standing next to Her "cradle". I would notice the old rusty nail which had been hammered into the tree trunk, on which a cheap little photo frame with a faded picture of Beloved Baba which Babajan would look at every now and then, nodding and softly talking to Him. Once in a while She would lean over and rest Her forehead on His picture.

Getting back to my dream: I saw Babajan squatting in semi-darkness on the floor where Her women followers usually sat. She was alone, wrapping things in an old sheet and tying it into a big bundle. I sensed immediately that Babajan was leaving us, leaving Poona. I said, "No, no, Babajan, no!" and began to cry. "You must not leave us, Babajan! Poona will be desolate without You! Don't go, please, don't go!"

She looked up at me and said, "What can I do, child? I have to close shop, because no one can afford my wares. I have to go."

I tugged at Her bundle and again begged Her not to go, now crying in earnest. When I woke up I found my pillow wet with tears.

Next morning I told the dream to Baba. He nodded but made no comment.

Mani S. Irani. © 1998 AMBPPCT