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The Mahatma And The Hare: A Dream Story
by
“Still, Mr. Hare,” pleaded the Red-faced Man, “I hope that if it should be in your power when we get through those Gates, that you will be merciful to Tom. I can’t think of much to say for him in this hurry, but there, he is my only son and the truth is that I love him. You know he may live–to be different–if you don’t bring some misfortune on him.”
“Who am I to bring misfortune or to withhold it?” asked the Hare, softening visibly. “Well, I know what love means, for my mother loved me and I loved her in my way. I tell you that when I saw her dead, turned from a beautiful living thing into a stained lump of flesh and fur, I felt dreadful. I understand now that you love Tom as my mother loved me, and, Man, for the sake of your love–not for his sake, mind–I promise you that I won’t say anything against Tom if I can help it, or do anything either.”
“You’re a real good fellow!” exclaimed the Red-faced Man, with evident relief. “Give me your hand. Oh! I forgot, you can’t. Hullo! what’s up now? Everything seems to be altering.”
*****
As he spoke, to my eyes the Lights began to change in earnest. All the sky (I call it sky for clearness) above the mighty Gates became as it were alive with burning tongues of every colour that an artist can conceive. By degrees these fiery tongues or swords shaped themselves into a vast circle which drove back the walls of darkness, and through this circle, guided, guarded by the spirits of dead suns, with odours and with chantings, descended that crowned City of the Mansions before whose glory imagination breaks and even Vision veils her eyes.
It descended, its banners wavering in the winds of prayer; it hung above the Gates, the flowers of all splendours, Heaven’s very rose, hung like an opal on the boundless breast of night, and there it stayed.
The Voice in the North called to the Voice in the South; the Voice in the East called to the Voice in the West, and up the Great White Road sped the Angel of the Road, making report as he came that all his multitude were gathered in and for that while the Road was barred.
He passed and in a flash the Gates were burned away. The ashes of them fell upon the heads of those waiting at the Gates, whitening their faces and drying their tears before the Change. They fell upon the Man and the Hare beside me, veiling them as it were and making them silent, but on me they did not fall. Then, from between the Wardens of the Gates, flowed forth the Helpers and the Guardians (save those who already were without comforting the children) seeking their beloved and bearing the Cups of slumber and new birth; then pealed the question–
“Who hath suffered most? Let that one first taste of peace.”
Now all the dim hosts surged forward since each outworn soul believed that it had suffered most and was in the bitterest need of peace. But the Helpers and the Guardians gently pressed them back, and again there pealed, no question but a command.
This was the command:–
“Draw near, thou Hare.”
*****
Jorsen asked me what happened after this justification of the Hare, which, if I heard aright, appeared to suggest that by the decree of some judge unknown, the woes of such creatures are not unnoted and despised, or left unsolaced. Of course I had to answer him that I could not tell.
Perhaps nothing happened at all. Perhaps all the wonders I seemed to see, even the Road by which souls travel from There to Here and from Here to There, and the Gates that were burned away, and the City of the Mansions that descended, were but signs and symbols of mysteries which as yet we cannot grasp or understand.
Whatever may be the truth as to this matter of my visions, I need hardly add, however, that no one can be more anxious than I am myself to learn in what way the Red-faced Man, speaking on behalf of our dominant race, and the Hare, speaking as an appointed advocate of the subject animal creation, finished their argument in the light of fuller knowledge. Much also do I wonder which of them was proved to be right, a difficult matter whereon I feel quite incompetent to express any views.
But you see at that moment I woke up. The edge of the Road on which I was standing seemed to give way beneath me, and I fell into space as one does in a nightmare. It is a very unpleasant sensation.
*****
I remember noticing afterwards that I could not have been long asleep. When I began to dream I had only just blown out the candle, and when I awoke again there was still a smouldering spark upon its wick.
But, as I have said, in that spirit-land wither I had journeyed is to be found neither time nor space nor any other familiar thing.