Sunday 2 December 2007

The last stop…

I love dreams. They are doors into ourselves, our hopes and our past. Good ones give me joy. Bad ones give me learning. Thus, most of my more spiritual experiences happen when I close my eyes.

That’s why last night was an especially joyous ocassion for me. I dreamt I was standing in front of the Kaabah, in Makkah.

kaabah.jpg

I suppose the set up for me to experience this was perfect. Last night, I attended a Majlis Zikir at the Darul Qadriah center in Setiawangsa, Kuala Lumpur. I had been absent from attending for several months, due to personal business, but we picked the perfect night to come.

Not only was there a full house, but also in attendance was the door kiswah (cloth covering) from the Kaabah. It had been sent all the way from Makkah, to its permanent home in Darul Qadriah. When you take into account that there is only one kiswah made every year to adorn the Kaabah door, it was an honour that none of the other 1 billion plus Muslims would ever have. An honour I got, which is to touch it.

The kiswah was made of several layers of black felt (which made it look like a thin mattress) and embroidered with gold and silver plated wire, which made it a very, very heavy piece of cloth. To touch it was magical, like being in front of the door itself, imagining myself being right there.

kabahDoor.jpg

Later that night, at home, my mother called from Makkah. She’s there to do her Haj and hearing her voice after not seeing her for two weeks made me forget how much I missed her. Her description of being there made such an impression on me, I wished I was with her.

Which is why, Allah answered my prayers, by giving me a first hand experience of being there. But when I looked at myself, I wasn’t in ihram, so I knew, I was only there to visit. It felt so real, but knowing it wasn’t doesn’t make it any less magical.

To this minute, I remember every moment I was there. If even dreaming of it feels this good, I’m definitely looking forward to actually be there. The last stop I’ll make in this long, long life.

Whiskers cries.

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