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by Jacqueline Ives (Age: 79)
copyright 09-03-2012

Age Rating: 10 +



      I come out of the cottage and walk through the beautiful, mysterious wood  that I know in dreams.

      I miss the ‘but at the roadside.

     A car draws up to give me a lift.

     Who are the people in the car whose windows seen from the outside are dark?

          When I enter, there is just one man in the car.

     “Don’t you know that it is dangerous to accept a lift from a strange man?” he asks.

     “I want to visit the Great Teacher at the top of the mountain,” I explain impatiently.  “I missed the ‘bus to the mountain.”

      “Too late,” he says, but he must mean that I was too late for the ‘bus.  It is never to late for the Great Teacher who is always there. 

       Or does the driver of the car mean that he is going to do me harm – that it is “too late” now to get out of the car?  No, for we arrive at the car park near the mountain and I alight safely.  There are various people in the car park who seem to want to delay me by performing futile actions.

       A woman’s voice says:

       “She has left her home, but she is still here.”

       Is this myself speaking about someone – or someone speaking about me?  I visualise the cottage I left.

       “I have to get to the top of the mountain,” I tell the futile people, “to learn from the Great Teacher.”

        One of them, less futile, explains that I have to perform some sacrifice before I go there.

        And this is where I am now.


         No!  Move on to the foot of the mountain.  Did I hear the speaker clearly?  I was going to write down “some action” instead of “some sacrifice”.  I think the former is what was said.  But I have just written about “futile” actions – the futility of actions.  Yet are these people’s actions NOT futile?  Are they what they have to perform before they may climb the mountain?


       And THIS is where I am now – at the foot of the mountain.


       “Is the Great Teacher a man or a woman?”  The enquirer, strange to say and all credit to his perceptiveness, is a man.  Remembering the dream, I had not until this moment thought of the Great Teacher as feminine, but this throws a new light on things.  Maybe “She” who has left her home, but … is still there” is the Great Teacher.  Maybe she comes to meet me now.



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        01-27-2015     Mike Farr        

Hello Jacqueline,

Twisting and turning, taking on many dimensions,

Who creates logic?

What is logic?

Is it that which we perceive it to be in deep sleep, when twilight dims the day?
Scattered in dreams of this ways and that ways, as we arrive to where we are going, at that same place which we had left.
Could only we peer out to see the sleeping noble, then, could the Great Teacher answer, or be too busy, creating more of that which we peer out from.

Once again you held a reader to the page in the wonder of dimensionless mystery.
Very nice indeed Jacqueline (Five Star Work)

        04-12-2013     betterthingstocome        

Hello Jacqueline
I see so much inside the writing of this work. It has me pondering a thought or two. The thoughts that arise as I read this through were very intriguing. I liked how you kept reflecting on the past of what you said previously and ended with could it be me? -- or that is what I got from the story.
Thank you for sharing!!!

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