The Solemn Foursome
There were four of them. And between them as they walked two by two, and two ahead of those who followed, they carried a large parcel.
They were dressed in long white robes. They were easily seven feet tall and they walked slowly, solemnly, uphill, on a bluestone mountain path.
They were priests.
And what they carried between them was also seven feet in length, wrapped in white cloth bandages, so neatly, so precisely, according to their ancient custom.
From his vantage point, the dreamer watched the procession.
These four carried the body of one of their kind, whom they had loved and admired. Where they were in time and space, the dreamer did not know. But this was a lucid dream, and it was also robbed of all color.
At the mouth of a large cave, they stopped and rested, but they did not lower the body of their friend. Respectfully, they held it high.
Then they proceeded and moved into the torch-lit grotto. Its floor had been chiseled completely flat, and into the floor had been cleverly carved the deep shape of the fish.
“Four carry the body, and no more carry the body,” said the voice of the Spirit.
“They represent the body and the mind, the spirit and the soul,” said the voice of the Spirit.
“And the shape of the fish is the womb of this earth, and the meaning of this is re-birth,” said the Spirit.
And the dreamer observed the slow, awesome, yet simple ceremony.
The four tall men, who looked thin and gaunt, yet were very healthy, turned as a group, slowly. Then they gently lowered the body that once belonged to their colleague and friend into his grave.
The dreamer felt great concern. The four tall men placed the body inside the shape of the fish, but with the head of the corpse towards the tail of the fish, and the head of the corpse was not within the tail of the fish. The fish was much too large for the body of the dead priest.
“And the symbolic meaning is that he must rest for a time and not fall from the womb,” said the Spirit.
The four tall men moved to one side, and together, and with ease, they pushed a large flat stone over the shape of the fish, which was one of the many wombs of this far-away earth, and the body of the priest could be seen no more.
It would be safe within one of the many wombs of this small earth.
* * *
This strange, almost colorless, now long-ago nighttime burial and simple ceremony had come to an end. Barnard awoke, knowing he had witnessed his own interment in another place, another time.
He made his way to the den, and began to write.
The I, myself, who is the body of this priest is in the womb of that far-away earth. It neither lives, cares, nor feels any more.
The I, myself, who is the soul of that priest stands to the right, so very close to the colleague I respect most, and the soul is pleased with the ceremony.
The I, myself, who is the Spirit of the priest is located at the mouth of the cave, and witnesses all, and in all time.
And this I, myself, who is the Spirit of that priest is also the ancient Eagle, who now witnesses each word, as I write each word.
And the I, myself, who is the mind of the writer, was with the Eagle, there, at the mouth of the cave, and witnessed all in that long-ago time.
And the soul of the priest moves on. And he is fine.
Without the Eagle.