A doubt still lingered in my mind. Is devotion really the right path, one I was willing to dedicate myself to for the rest of my life?
A small voice in the back of my head, the mysterious voice I had grown accustomed to whispered 'Of course it is a path, not the only right one, but one of many paths that lead home. Each path a person takes, still returns them home.'
I still wasn't convinced.
Off I went to sleep, and just before I drifted off into the land of dreams, I prayed or rather wished, "Let me find some answers in my dreams tonight.."
My dreams are a strange place. My brain concocts such dreams that are not possible, mixing together my entire essence, from one part of my life to another, they all come together in my dreams.
This time, there was nothing to see. Rather, there was everything to hear.
A void of nothingness, black to the eyes. I suppose it was like being blind. Blind to the world, blind to the truth.
Krishna. Krishna. Krishna.
The same name over and over, for hours or minutes, I didn't and still do not know. Time was ephemeral, yet lasting. And when I awoke, it was like all the air had rushed out of my lungs. My mind was numb, heavy yet light in a way. Like I was finally realizing reality and truth, and somehow I couldn't believe it yet I already knew it, deep in my heart. Some might say it was just a dream, that my brain crafted such a scenario to make me believe it all.
I chose to believe it was him who crafted the sign.
And as I lay awake, staring at the ceiling, I saw or perhaps imagined him smiling at me, the flute at his lips, telling me that I was doing it right, this is what I should do. And in the dark of night, Shyamsundara began to play a mellifluous tune that brought me right back to the verge of dreams.
Krishna. Krishna. Krishna.
