In my travels across Turkey over 45 years ago, I saw, and experienced, many strange things. Some were good, and some were bad. Perhaps this one is only a dream, but I will state it as the truth. For only something grounded in reality could come back to me with such clarity, as this did early this morning as I slept.
I had lost my passport and was wandering, stateless, and wondering how I was to free myself of this predicament. I came upon a seaside village built upon a cliff, a walled city, very similar to Dubrovnik, in Yugoslavia, a country which no longer exists, but can be found on old maps and globes of the time.
Much like Dubrovnik, this city was rife with ceramic arts and crafts, pottery and the like. But in contrast to it's Yugoslavian counterpart, there were no sellers hawking these wares. They were merely placed along the inside of the parapets, seemingly for the taking, and with intermittent receptacles where you could leave an offering if you had it.
Some of these artifacts were broken, or in some ways imperfect. But if you looked hard enough you could find some beautiful creations. I was browsing through these things and taking the ones I considered interesting and perhaps even worthy for sale, for I was in need of financial aid to bribe my way out of the country. I was, in fact, praying for deliverance.
It was then that I first heard the music, a light airy melody of guitar and flute that seemed to be playing a melody that sounded like "Roliah Kaliazami", a name I had never heard of before, or even since.
Casting my eyes heavenward I saw colored wisps in the cloudy skies. These quickly morphed into the words I was hearing, which soon revealed the image of a large, rotund man who seemed to be some sort of Turkish Pasha. It was through this appearance that it came to me that I was, indeed, to gather the better of the artifacts and hawk them to raise the funds I desperately needed. And so I did.
Soon, there were people helping me. All I had to do to gain their trust was to mention the Pasha's name and it seemed as if I had been the recipient of a Divine vision. For although all knew his name, no one had ever seen him!
I was guided to the top of the wall, where the sun was shining, and before long word spread of my presence and my Benefactor. I was given sustenance, coin, and even some medicinal help. And all the while, above me in the sky, was Roliah Kaliazami, smiling in Benevolence, revealed for all to see!
I have searched my journals from this period of my travels, and I find no mention of this episode. But even now, hours after the dream, I would swear it to be true. For how else would I have been able to travel from the town of Iskenduran, in the South, through all of Turkey, to Istanbul and then home?
If true; it is a miracle. If not; it is a beautiful dream. In any event, it is a testament to the power of Roliah Kaliazami. Even now I can see Him and hear the melody of His flute.
In my travels across Turkey over 45 years ago, I saw, and experienced, many strange things. Some were good, and some were bad. Perhaps this one is only a dream, but I will state it as the truth. For only something grounded in reality could come back to me with such clarity, as this did early this morning as I slept.
I had lost my passport and was wandering, stateless, and wondering how I was to free myself of this predicament. I came upon a seaside village built upon a cliff, a walled city, very similar to Dubrovnik, in Yugoslavia, a country which no longer exists, but can be found on old maps and globes of the time.
Much like Dubrovnik, this city was rife with ceramic arts and crafts, pottery and the like. But in contrast to it's Yugoslavian counterpart, there were no sellers hawking these wares. They were merely placed along the inside of the parapets, seemingly for the taking, and with intermittent receptacles where you could leave an offering if you had it.
Some of these artifacts were broken, or in some ways imperfect. But if you looked hard enough you could find some beautiful creations. I was browsing through these things and taking the ones I considered interesting and perhaps even worthy for sale, for I was in need of financial aid to bribe my way out of the country. I was, in fact, praying for deliverance.
It was then that I first heard the music, a light airy melody of guitar and flute that seemed to be playing a melody that sounded like "Roliah Kaliazami", a name I had never heard of before, or even since.
Casting my eyes heavenward I saw colored wisps in the cloudy skies. These quickly morphed into the words I was hearing, which soon revealed the image of a large, rotund man who seemed to be some sort of Turkish Pasha. It was through this appearance that it came to me that I was, indeed, to gather the better of the artifacts and hawk them to raise the funds I desperately needed. And so I did.
Soon, there were people helping me. All I had to do to gain their trust was to mention the Pasha's name and it seemed as if I had been the recipient of a Divine vision. For although all knew his name, no one had ever seen him!
I was guided to the top of the wall, where the sun was shining, and before long word spread of my presence and my Benefactor. I was given sustenance, coin, and even some medicinal help. And all the while, above me in the sky, was Roliah Kaliazami, smiling in Benevolence, revealed for all to see!
I have searched my journals from this period of my travels, and I find no mention of this episode. But even now, hours after the dream, I would swear it to be true. For how else would I have been able to travel from the town of Iskenduran, in the South, through all of Turkey, to Istanbul and then home?
If true; it is a miracle. If not; it is a beautiful dream. In any event, it is a testament to the power of Roliah Kaliazami. Even now I can see Him and hear the melody of His flute.
