Agape: In Search of Universal Love
from the novel, The Lodging for the Rose
Rolf. A. F. Witzsche
Story 15 - In the Flow of Life.
Story 15 - In the Flow of Life.
Sometimes our dinner conversations were on subjects that demanded the deepest possible thought, and sometimes the subjects were met with a science fiction type approach that bordered on tall dreaming about a world that was still being build. At times it was also centered on actual dreams. Caracas had been a wonderful place for dreaming.
I don't know whether this dreaming was caused by the thin mountain air, or the fact that our hotel was often surrounded by clouds during the night, or whether it was due to the total quietness of sleeping high above the city on a mountain ridge, cradled on scientifically advanced mattresses as the hotel boasted in its advertisements.
Often, elaborate fantasies emerged in my dreams, sometimes with a clarity that was more forceful than a movie or a stage play. The majority of my dreams, of course, were directly connected with the conference, and some were centered on Antonovna.
One of the most extraordinary of these dreams had all trimmings of an oriental mythology. I found myself in a mansion. I was alone. The rooms were brightly lit, but they were empty. I walked from room to room in a dazed bewilderment, searching for someone, or a way out. The rooms were large, elegant, endlessly interconnected, furnished in the finest tradition of a bygone age. The place was deadly silent, except for my footsteps on the carpets.
On the ground floor of the mansion was a solarium. The solarium was much more grandiose than that of our hotel. The solarium in my dream had a courtyard at its center with a fountain. From there, a wide marble walkway led to a door that opened to a garden. The garden was like a miniature park, filled with a profusion of flowering tropical plants, flooded with sunlight. A sweet odor of blossoms filled the air.
Inside, the courtyard of the solarium was laid out in geometric patterns composed of various shades of marble. I noticed a grouping of garden furniture in the middle of the courtyard, that matched the color of the surrounding blossoms and blended with the white marble platform on which it stood. That's when I became aware of a girl on a recliner, sunning herself. Actually she noticed me first.
"I'm your cousin Veronica," she introduced herself. She spoke in a friendly, carefree manner, and with the most wonderful smile. She hadn't expected me. She had been sun-tanning in the nude. Hastily she dressed. She had the most perfect figure, like a Greek goddess, gently pointed breasts, erect nipples, all of which she hurried to hide.
"Come with me," she asked, and with the same smile as before, she reached out her hand. She opened a pair of brass doors at the end of a narrow walkway that let to a different garden than the one I had seen before. This one was a wide open garden from where we had a view across the world. Our mansion was built on a high hill. It seemed as though the whole earth lay before us.
"Come!" she urged me, "I will show you the temple."
I followed without a comment.
At the edge of the garden stood a white marble structure. It featured a domed marble roof, supported by four pillars which together formed four gates. I marveled at the exquisite appearance of the structure. I stepped inside.
"Come," I gently urged her, please follow me.
"No! I can't follow you. In life's temple one is always alone. In truth there is no separation, we are at one with the whole of humanity. No one exists in isolation, but this must be learned," she said.
I urged her again, to come.
She shook her head. "As individuals we are alone with ourselves. We must be alone. This is the mark of our autonomy."
(c) Copyright 1998 -
Published by Cygni Communications Ltd. North Vancouver, Canada