"So you agree that love is the most important subject we can study?" Erica answered. "I believe, all the rest that we do gains its value from that."

      I agreed. "But now I must give you an exam question," I added. "If your previous rape incident happened today, how would you respond to it?"

      "No, Peter, you tell me," she replied. "If a similar thing happened to you, how would you react?"

      I said that would be like a blind leading the blind. I said that I would allow a date, but that would be to explore together of how to open those doors that are closed, and how to do it in a manner by which everyone becomes uplifted and enriched.

      "That would be quite an experience," said Erica.

      "I think this a terribly hard thing to do. That may be the reason why we have not achieved anything along this line in five thousand years. I'm afraid that I would probably end up to be the learner in this case, which really isn't all that hypothetical," I suggested and laughed.

      "You would probably have the kind of conversation that we are having right now, Peter."

      "I should be so lucky," I replied, "but that's unlikely to happen."

      "How do you know that, Peter? We can't know that. You can never know what will happen in such a situation unless you close the door on it and say, no! That's what I did. But if it happened again, I think I would be wiser, this time. I really owe this to myself. The study of love has become important to me. I even dream about it. I have seen an unfolding of love the kind of which one finds only in dreams."

      "Do you have many dreams about love?" I dared to ask.

      She didn't answer. Her expression changed as if something suddenly troubled her. I could see tension. Instead of answering, she nodded. "Actually it was the other way around," she added moments later. "My research of love became rather interesting, because of a dream, but I am not sure if I should tell you about it."

      "I understand, Erica," was my reply. "Dreams are too personal."

      She shook her head. "Sometimes our dreams have a higher source than ones own conscience. I will tell you the dream if you promise not to judge me by it."

      I raised my hand, "I swear I won't. How can I judge you by something you have no control over? Who knows were dreams come from? We collect information that gets stored away and gets compiled into the strangest constructs."

      "The dream was strange and profound, Peter. I was visiting an oriental village located in a valley between two canyons. The village was isolated from the outside world by steep mountains surrounding it, and by tall cliffs rising out of the depth of a fast flowing river that flowed through the canyons. The village that I found myself in was built on a hillside. I found it to be a beautiful place of flowers, lush vegetation, and terraced gardens everywhere that cascaded right down to the river. On a rocky outcropping near the village, overlooking the river, was a temple.

      "I saw one of the villagers coming by. I asked the villager to whom the temple was dedicated. He didn't understand the question. He looked puzzled. Then he began to smile. He asked me to sit down with him on the nearby rocky ledge overlooking the river. Evidently, he felt that my question could not be answered without me first understanding the history of the village. He said that the original builders of the village had arrived a long time ago. They had escaped when their land became surrounded by war. Hastily they had put together a flotilla of makeshift rafts, piled their belongings on them and set out into an uncertain future. That's how they survived the war. The valley became their place of refuge. Unable to go back, the valley became their new home, a place where they could live in peace. But it presented challenges."

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Stories about  Healing from novels by Rolf A. F. Witzsche