The Eternal Jew’s Tale, #173, Abarbanel 4.72

In this episode we see how Ruakh shapes our dreams.

The Eternal Jew’s Tale
Twentieth Era, Part 5, ~1483 C.E., Iberia

The Abarbanel Cycle, 4.72
The Ladder of Ascents, 7.2
Compiled by Isaac Abarbanel
With the help of the Eternal Jew and his wife Batkol

2.1 The Second Palace, its First Gate

…Now, come hear the Ruakh voice and see the Ruakh shine its light thru your dreams into your soul. And see how your Adam mind grinds infinity to a grain of sand…

This be a fragment from a dream exemplifying a common terrain:

You’re walking thru a fallow field. Stubble of barley, furrows and clods. There, behind is your childhood home, tho you never lived in such a place…

And this be some Ruakh in the terrain:
The field is the surface of the whole earth. It has no beginning; it has no end. It curves out to the starry sky and inward into the human soul. You are walking it, step by step; it furrows you, step by step. Moment by moment, step by step the field curls its furrows in you like waves of the sea. The furrows slosh around your feet, up to your knees, heaving, swirling rush the tides, sweeping you into the furling waves. Furrows and wrinkles etch your face, a face once smooth like the face of the sea; a face once soft like the cheeks of a child, now stubble and grimace, now furrow and frown. Furrowing steps, moments and miles, etched on the fallow face of your life. As the tides are washing over you, as you walk away from your ancient home, its fallow fields, furrow and clod, you walk away from the earth of you towards the Ruakh and its eternities.

This be another Ruakh plane inside that same dreamy terrain: Behold! *Joseph outside of Sh’khem.* Where are his brothers? He walks the fields, unknown sufferings awaiting him, unknown redemptions within those fields… Look at those dried out barley stalks.
*-* Berraysheet/Gen. 37:13-15
And now you’re thrown in an empty well, and as you cry out, ‘help me Reuven!’ traders drag you out of the well, and tie a rope around your neck, and knot the ends to a camel’s yoke… And now you look at barley stalks in a fallow field behind your home….
Long furrows of cut grain, the harvest winnowed and piled in heaps, and all your village celebrates the festival as the sun sets. *You, the headman dance and sing and finally lay down in your field, tired, joyful; harvest days. And now, behold, a maiden’s touch curls up against your back, and you, old Boaz, marvel at that. You turn and look, and what do you see?*…
*-* Ruth 3:7-8
Crooked furrows and blighted fields. Harsh famine besets the land, *and you an old and anxious man, your rebellious sons urging you to let them take your tender babe down, down to the lion’s den, down, down to Egypt land. You sigh and stare at the rocky fields…*
*-* Berraysheet/Gen. 42:34-36
Barley stubble; fallow fields. Look closely. See, the stubble bleeds and weeps the tales of passersby who trample thru these living fields.

2.2 The Second Palace, its Second Gate

Or take this scene in a habitat, to show how Ruakh is the bones of it:
You sit by a fire in your ramshackle house. Your father calls from another room. You get up. He seems to need your help. Down a long hallway with many doors that open into strange rooms. Waking, you know this is not your house.
Understand: this house is built in Ruakh’s many dimensioned space, and in some rooms Shekhina waits, and in some the Lor is creating new worlds, or angels are whispering new verses to prophets who can’t understand the words. And there’s rooms where awful nightmares wait, where suppressed fears are amplified, or every thought is a universe of pain or sorrow from prior lives. You stand by the fire and from one of those rooms your father is calling. What do you do? Is this really your father? Which room is he in? And what is it now that he wants from you? You look down the hall. Where are you now? How did this house come to be yours?
This house is your body. This house is your mind. This house is the Temple in Jerusalem. This house is the earth. It’s an endless abyss. This house is illusion. It doesn’t exist.

All this lays within that dream, but all we know when we awake is a little house with a long hall.

The dimensions of Ruakh are many and strange. Like a turning wheel in a driving rain that throws off spray in pinwheel arcs; so the axes of Ruakh in fiery sparks cascade its natures into our dreams.

~~~~~~~~~~

In the next episode, further dream interpretation insights.