Sensei dreams of master Shi-zu

Sensei wrote frantic notes in the pre-dawn rush; his only light was from the bathroom, which flickered as school administrators entered and left. Sensei's writing overlapped and spiraled in the darkness. Not yet willing to part with the dream, he pulled his robe above his shoulders and squinted at the paper.

Peter, the morning session administrator, rapped softly on his door. Sensei, are you ok? Usually by now Sensei would meet Peter in the kitchen to go over the morning schedule.

Yes, quite. Sensei folded his journal and set it beneath the desk. He took Peter's hand and raised himself. I was writing down a most unusual dream... Peter raised an eyebrow. Master Sen-zu was in it. And the boys. And Alice... walking into the hall, the men grew quiet. Students were passing on their way to the meditation hall.

---

That night, Sensei shared his dream with the administrator. I was in a stream, with water flowing around me. It was so relaxing! The creases in Sensei's face were pinpoint-deep as he smiled. The water was coming faster, and pushed me downstream. I tried to remain seated but could not... now the smile disappeared, and he looked up at Peter. You see, the water started coming over my head, as if I were in the rapids. Soon the water was pounding me, like a waterfall. He tapped his right fist onto the back of his left hand, repeatedly. Bin! Bin! Bing! Bin! It hit me over and over.

Oh, Peter intoned.

Now, In my hand was a teacup. Sensei turned his left hand palm upward, cupping it. The water hit it so hard it splashed out. It was full, yet not filling. Full of splashes!

Peter's face was lit with interest. But where was Master Sen-zu? and the others?

Yes, yes I'm coming to that! You see, I'm holding this teacup, right? Sensei holds up his left hand, cupped. And the water splashes in the cup and comes right back out? Sensei takes his right hand with forked fingers pointed upward, raising from the left hand-cup. And I look up - not from my current vantage, but as if watching from a small distance - I look up, and there is Master Shi-zu pouring the water on me. Sensei turns both hands over and pours as if they are doing the pouring. The boys are gathered all round the Master. The master was teaching my students a lesson, using me as the object. Yet somehow I could not hear him. I saw his lips move, saw the words form and the students comprehend, but all I heard was the excited hiss of the waterfall.

Peter was uneasy. Sensei was on in years, and Peter feared this excitement could do him no good. He rose and asked, May I get you some Tea? 

Sensei waved his hand. I am the object of a lesson. And the words, Master Sei-zu's words, are also splashing round me, while I just sit there in the stream. I was trying to listen to his words, to hear the lesson he was teaching the boys, because it was profound - an essential teaching. Sensei stressed each syllable. But the more I listen, the more the rushing of the waterfall drowned them out.

Peter stood halfway between the cabinet and his zabuton, not sure which way to go.

Then I see someone else coming down the stream. It is Alice, on her back, lazily floating down the stream toward me. She floats to the rapids, then bends over and ... cups her hands above my head. Sensei puts his two hands over his head, palms up. Peter still cannot move, his eyes watching Sensei's hands. They are shaking.

I ask Alice what the Master is saying, and she says... she says -you can hear it- Sensei's hands drop to his ears, cupping forward as if to listen. Master Sei-zu is still there, he is answering a question. He says -See? The cup is full, I cannot fill it any more- With that, Sensei slaps his cupped hands down on his thighs.

My cup is full. It cannot be filled by Master Sei-zu. There are tears in Sensei's eyes as the truth of the dream dawns on him.

Peter finally finds his bearing and moves toward the sink. Here, he says, filling a glass with water, drink this.

Sensei takes the glass and raises to his lips, but does not drink. I haven't had a dream of Alice in years. But there she was, as vivid as if she were still alive, still a part of my life.

She will always be a part of you, Peter offered.

She never bought any of this Zen crap Peter. She thought it was all a bunch of words with "no-" attached.

Sensei set the glass down. Condensation dripped toward the hardwood floor.

I think now the waterfall was the lesson, the words of the lesson, and when she blocked the water I could see the essential truth behind the words. All my life it's been pursuit of the words. So many words and I'm full.

Suddenly, Sensei looked up. How do I get rid of the words, Peter?

Peter's eyes, dry from the hour, searched for meaning in the Sensei's eyes. A breeze pushed the drapes in gentle sway.