Olam--Kehilla--Ulema-Talmid=One World, eternal in this life

I've been dreaming of my bro. lately--the oldest, in Ca. Even now I can't believe my memory 'flect w/such consignation (as opposed to resignation) fine details of these night travels. Down by the Univ. Hosp. there's a bldg on the corner w/those checkered bricks one could easily climb had he wanted to. There was a bldg like this, its facade covering a masjid (mosque) & we were across a plain of grassy field from it=me, my bro., & some folks I think I've imagined thru discussions from the abstract Tribe.net folks, who regularly I wouldn't see--tho' am regularly supposing their presence. We were listening to some music choosing intervals when one & another would put on their choice. I thought Mark was in the same office that still contended the Muslims couldn't liturgically recommend this entertainment as strictly firangi-Western, because some Muslims would indeed not try to coerce these social settings. And then the question was, did we need to get the approval of this local cleric, being in vicinity of their prayer-house? Meanwhile, Mark puts on something, in the dream, that my mind illustrated, but wasn't auditive (just visual). We were listening to stuff like Baaba Maal (Senegalese), & that Talking Timbuktu album w/Ry Cooder & Ali Farka Toure. And one album came to mind but I couldn't verify the sounds arriving, was Raichal Edon--an Israeli w/Ethiopian players, singing in Hebrew, Amharic & Arabic--not to mention the banner patois of Rasta variety in at least one of their songs I've heard. This type of rhythm, hypnotic down on the One-Drop--as Reggae is desribed, has even more imbued culturally, an extent of vast distances & fealty to mysticism...if only the parameters of the dreamScape allowed, I would have brought down the blue dome (in the whiteHot sky) of the pleroma above, & figures would have taken flight... The sense of the setting also reminded me of Laneer H.S. up the street from where we lived when I was first drawing conscious maps the 1rst 6-7 yrs of my life--in Texas. The bare-ness of the H.s. up at the the top of the hill always portended an endless Summer to me...Texan climate all adulterated in my thought: Think (of our) Sefardic Synagogue & deserts!! Here at work, recently, I asked an Iraqi woman about the word Takkiyah. She thought for a minute & was clearly not someone who practiced it. Rather, the Indonesian woman I asked once before, took a cold but academic stand to it--acknowledging this is about "concealment." The Dar al-Harb, World of War, in fact is implicated. The idea is that a Muslim, & at the suggestion of the Iraqi, a Shi-i, would harbor distrust--she said Hate, & then not show outward signs of this, but graduate to the norm w/out the opposing "group" knowing their real intentions. Also, a Moslem (the farsi pronounciation) from Bombay had come by here.--we discussed the Akedah. This is the Sacrifice of Isaac, by Abraham. I thought I kinda remembered, but he reminded me that this word meant Faith (?). Clearly this gentlemen was a grander student of people's differences, & having a sense that a beginning point is not always in one's own backyard, but centers from without: A Jew, an Evangelist et cetera. THink mutual arisings. (He spoke of a Christian over-wrought on their Good News THen on offer to him--the Moslem...but affably.) There is Urdu script written on some of the Indian paintings Mark brought back from India, hanging on my wall--but this Bombay man (he says rather than Mumbai), knowing Urdu, recognized it rather as Arabic, & thru his basic understanding of the language didn't see any Urdu words he knew as such as Urdu. In light of the nod East, I've been listening to Ravi Shankar & Ali Khan lately. The measure of Ravi's sitar's thrum in some octave containing its frequency that gets 1/8ed, 1/4ed, 1/2ed etc, has images concretized in the murmur of my senses. The entitlement I feel I get from understanding the scrawl of ancient musings in its hypnosis, makes me question that "ANY" way of expressing how I get lifted from it--is lacking. It was entirely the palate of diet consciousness, but not as if I'm at the table of Indian culture...rather just the Village of One World, ...whiling away under some tree, unsatisfied yet prone w/my vital resources, & focused upon my ephemeral body like it is a measure of something greater than its pain.