The Dreams

Dream 155

I was informed that my noble mentor, Shaykh Mustafa Abd al-Raziq, had caught a slight cold. I decided to visit him, but instead found him standing in front of my door, tears streaming down his cheeks. He regarded me with his wise expression as he wept.

“Master,” I told him, “it’s nothing more than a minor illness; there’s no reason to cry.”

But he answered, “I’m not weeping for myself.”

Then I understood: the lament was for us all. So I seized the chance to ask him, “What should we do, then, about humanity as a whole?”

“You have a lot of pharmacies full to the brim with all sorts of medications,” he replied, “not to mention the deadly popular remedies.”