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The Cave of Damāvand: The Gift of a Vision
In my early 20s, I had a vision. It was a dream-like experience, surreal and unsettling. In this vision, I was standing outside a mountain, not at the base or at the top. The air was thin and chilly; I was unable to sense the earth.
As I watched this mountain, I noticed a cave entrance nestled high up on its rocky face. No arduous ascent, no thinking, no struggle to maintain my balance or grip on the rocky terrain, and before long I was there, at the cave entrance.
The cave was cozy and well-lit; groups of people were sitting together, their faces animated by the flickering shadows of the crackling fires, flames glowing and hot, spontaneously spitting sparks. Speaking softly, their voices formed the walls of the cave. They seemed to be contemplating something of profound importance, and a discovery that they had made.
They had discovered something so terrible and so good that people would only ever rebel against it.
At the time, I couldn’t make out the name of the mountain. When I recalled the vision later, it sounded and looked like, ‘Dumbavad’. It was shown and murmured to me in the wildness of the cave.
