(READ PART ONE, PART TWO AND PART THREE OF THIS STORY)
“Da Worrrld is in A Coma; da Worrrld battles a ‘FIVEG”
-A ‘Fee Weg?’ What on earth is that?
Charlemagne, who is able to maintain part of his conscious mind awake while dreaming, is trying to make sense of the words addressed to him by a cosmic voice coming from the stars.
-What fee? What ‘Weg’? ‘Weg’ means both ‘path’ and ‘far away’ in German… Do we need to pay a fee to tread (or for treading) a certain path, or will the fee be sent away, lifted? I don’t understand, he mumbles in his dream.
In the realm of in-betweenness he opens his eyes and watches the night sky, where Orion constellation suddenly looks like a giant hourglass in the sky holding “itself” in mirror, with a strange peacock feather for a hat and its ‘belt’ the narrow opening through which purple sand trickles down the inner spheres of the time-measuring device.
-We are the movers and shakers, says the cosmic voice, like all the beings that constitute the human kind, even though sometimes they may feel otherwise… Yes, human beings are stardust particles in the hourglass of what they see as their space-time, but when the last of those millions of grains has dropped inside the hourglass bottom, we turn the hourglass over, for better beginnings, after letting the grains stand still for a while, so that humanity can ponder. Are you ready now? Pay close attention.
“Da Worrrld is in a Coma;
Da Worrrld battles a ‘Fiveg’;
Da world is set ablaze
By clusters of weird waves
Surrounding strange fake trees
that harbor spiked banshees.
Munduan Asko Lez,
Arto Koxko Lez…
The World needs your Magic Wand,
The one from across the Pond…”
Searching for the magic wand he is supposed to own, Charlemagne the dreamer realizes that, in the palm of his left hand, the one closest to his heart, he is now holding a beautiful glass gem corn cob, whose kernels are made of all the colors of the rainbow.
-Wow! exclaims Charlemagne. How did this land in my hand?! Maybe the poem is a magic formula! Some lines of the poem are related to corn; the part spoken in the Basque language: “Munduan asko lez, Arto Koxko lez”… I did not even know what “corn” was when I lived, but then I learned through my spirit journeys… across the big pond, the ocean, yes! I shared that Basque storytelling formula with Blue Spruce Woman and the Elf in that forest in New Mexico before landing in Spain.
Feeling connected with the cosmic voice through the corn cob in his hand, and eager to let the wise words show him the way to the depths of his dream, the sleeping Emperor dives deeper in the oneiric story. Now he finds himself riding his pet elephant, a present from Harun al Rashid. Mount and “mahout” (the elephant rider and caretaker) are giving life to the magical artifact built by Samuel Ha Nagid in the Moorish bath of Granada, where Charlemagne has fallen asleep a while ago.
The Emperor is satisfied with the change in his elephant’s role: from war mount to time teller, since the elephant represents a water clock which one day would be created in the realm of “linear reality” by a man named Al-Jazari.
Now remembering the strange lullaby sung to him by his friends Samuel and Ziryab while he was admiring the prodigious artifact created by Samuel, Charlemagne realizes that the two men followed him in his dream, occupying the exact same position created by Samuel’s Wizard Magic.
Behind Charlemagne the mahout, Samuel is sitting cross-legged on the rotating platform of the strange structure he created, ready to write the highlights of the dreamtime with a black feather whose tip he dips in pomegranate wine. Atop the structure held on the elephant’s back, Ziryab, ready to play his lute, sits in front of a panel adorned with black and white moons. He smiles at Charlemagne and holds his index on his lips: -Hush… Let’s not wake the slumbering phoenix yet, he whispers. After looking into the eyes of the two strange birds by his side, half ravens and half hawks, he adds: they want to set the dragons in motion.
At these words, the hybrid birds open their wings, and the dragons their mouths, waiting for Ziryab to strum his lute.
-Do you believe the sense of place transcends time, Shah Riman / Charlemagne? Ziryab asks the Frankish Emperor from atop his seat on the elephant.
-What do you mean? asks Charlemagne looking above trying to see Ziryab’s face.
-Well, I believe places work with time energy in both directions. What I mean is that I met a vizier of Granada a few days ago in a dream, but it was not Samuel. The vizier I met was from ahead of our respective times.
-I hope he was making all viziers proud, chuckles Samuel.
-About that I am not sure, adds Ziryab, I think it might have actually been the opposite regarding his relation with the sultans, but this is less relevant than the melody he sang to me. That person from our future is named Al Khatib. And I feel he left his future energy in this place, an imprint to come. The melody will one day wrap some of his words into note garments, there where the living think time is linear. The melody went like this…
As Ziryab starts playing the notes of the (now) very famous “muwashshah” Lamma Bada Yatathanna, a mysterious power stops him in his musical tracks, preventing the lute from playing further.
-What is happening? Samuel asks.
-I don’t know, recognizes Ziryab. It is as if the lute refused to let my fingers play more than two ‘Dum Dum Tac’ as an intro.
-‘Dum Dum Tac’??? repeats Charlemagne.
-Yes, explains Ziryab. Those are the words we use to describe the different sounds we play. In this introduction we have two “Dum”, and then one “Tac” which has a different, shorter and shallower kind of sound, a bit like zero… I mean, like a void. All the sounds I can play so far are a sequence of two “Dum” and one “Tac”, twice…
-Wait a minute, says Samuel from his platform where he is willing to start writing important milestones. If ‘tac’ is zero, you can translate “dum-dum / tac / dum-dum / tac” into figures, which gives you 2-0-2-0. What could that be?
-Could it be a code to unite us? proposes Charlemagne. Remember that you wanted to express the union of our three religions in that lion fountain you mentioned in a previous conversation, Samuel? How could figures unite us?
-THE CALENDAR! exclaims Samuel! Right now the three of us function on a different timeline or “time definition” according to our respective creeds, but you came from that place where you talked to a tree from our future, Charlemagne. The tree was on the timeline of what living beings consider the “present”. What was the date over there again?
-2019, answers Charlemagne.
-THAT’S IT! exclaims Ziryab. You are true geniuses, gentlemen! Dum Dum Tac X 2 is the year to come after 2019: 2-0-2-0!
-Of couuuurse! shouts Charlemagne who startles Abul Abbas the elephant, triggering its movement.
The elephant only takes a few steps before being forced to stop, just like Ziryab was stopped in his musical endeavor: the magical chessboard that Samuel used in the Moorish bath has appeared as a barrier in front of the elephant, and it has grown so tall that it is blocking the way of the time-teller and its three riders.
-What now? complains Charlemagne.
-It’s as if we were trying to navigate a river of time but were not allowed to move yet because of what looks like the dream version of the iron grid of Bab al Difaf, that bridge on the Darro River, which stands in front of the Moorish Bath where we all met, says Samuel. The grid below the bridge only lets water go through, preventing invaders from attacking us through our main waterway.
-I guess it is related to Ziryab’s symbolic interpretation of the meaning of the chessboard, Charlemagne says, repeating the words of the musician: “Life is a battle fought with ourselves as we perform on the chessboard of time.”
-Thank you for the reminder, Ziryab says. I think it is, yes. And it reminds me of Al-Khatib again. In the dream he said he hoped one day poetry and music would finally help people understand the need to establish barriers, sometimes, not to prevent human enemies to invade a town, but rather to prevent invisible enemies to invade bodies. Since Al-Khatib had contradicted the sayings of the Prophet, peace be upon Him, saying that it was best to apply newly acquired knowledge instead of relying on tradition, even though tradition was established through interpreting the Prophet’s words, they condemned Al-Khatib to death. Even though the images are blurred, the last thing I saw in the dream was poor Al Khatib suffocating. It was his death sentence, when all he wanted was to protect people from “the invisible enemy”… Now I think he meant a disease, and they killed him for that!
As a tear trickles down Ziryab’s cheek, he whispers:
-I am sure the Prophet, peace be upon Him, would have never wanted this man’s death! Especially since contradicting Muhammad meant saving lives!
Feeling very sorry for Al Khatib too, Charlemagne remembers the sensations of his own death.
-You know, he says, this is exactly the sensation I had when I left the earth, I could not breathe, and for some reason just after closing my eyes because of the intense pain in my chest, I left my body, and as I was observing myself lying in bed, I suddenly saw like two winter trees in my chest, with a weird stone in between that looked like my heart, which finally ceased to beat. The last memories I took with me were silly moments I spent with my many guests showing them the famous trick of the tablecloth I threw in the fire, which would come out as white as snow… I would boast and say I had supernatural powers. I could be so childish at times… I heard people laughing and laughing in my vision before leaving the earth, and then I saw a salamander which took me into the light. It was so strange.
-That is not a pleasant way to exit the earth, recognizes Samuel. I am sorry to interrupt your emotional moment, gentlemen, but what should we be doing with the water that is now reaching the elephant’s ankles?
-Oh my… starts Charlemagne. I sure wish we were in front of a grid instead of a solid chessboard, because if the water keeps on rising, we might be in trouble soon!
-Well, let’s remember our fish king or king fish story, jokes Samuel. You know, that Badis fish that appeared in a puddle after Abul Abbas sneezed water! We’ll find a way to swim away.
-Haha, yes… Charlemagne remembers. We’ll find a way… I am also remembering your interpretation of the death of my real-life elephant, after bathing in and drinking from those German waters… to cleanse me of my guilt for so many men’s deaths…
Immediately after those words, the elephant dips its trunk in the water that keeps rising.
-Ooooh! We might as well be careful with our words! observes Ziryab. It seems that all we mention is set into motion. Here is the elephant doing exactly what you’ve said. What should we do now?
-Well, I don’t know! replies Charlemagne who starts to feel a bit nervous. I say let’s trust our elephant!
The elephant lifts its trunk filled with water and sprays both Ziryab and Charlemagne.
-What WAS that? wonders Samuel, yet struggling not to laugh at his friends.
-I don’t know, says Ziryab cleaning his face with his sleeve. All I can tell you is that I no longer feel sad. It’s as if Al Khatib’s pain, which I made mine, had vanished all of a sudden.
-Me too! says Charlemagne. This elephant is indeed magical.
-Maybe it’s a combination of the elephant’s compassion and its use of water… says Ziryab. I remember the sound of water and lute melodies were used to heal patients in Baghdad.
-Did all the melodies start with your “dum dum tac, dum dum tac?” asks Charlemagne.
Before Ziryab can think of an answer, Abul Abbas the elephant uses its trunk again to gently knock on specific squares on the first row of the chessboard: two whites dum dum, one black tac; two whites dum dum, one black tac. Each of the six squares touched by Abul Abbas opens to reveal an automat that starts pouring water from atop its open square on the chessboard, which soon turns into a waterfall. Abul Abbas the elephant confidently starts to walk through the water, scaring his three riders to the point of leaving them speechless. Protected from the waterfall downpour by the dome atop their structure, the three friends realize that they are now in a waterproof cave behind the waterfall curtain.
-Would you please turn around ? asks a female voice.
Abul Abbas the elephant now faces a woman standing in the cave, by the waterfall.
-Welcome to the Womb of Time, the Rearview Window to the World, she says.
-Who are you? Charlemagne asks.
-I am you, as much as you are me, but you could also call me your creator, she answers.
-The Shekhinah is among us!!! exclaims Samuel. I’ve always wondered what the female Sefirah looked like in the real tree of life, and I thought of her as a water bubble! How appropriate to be facing this waterfall!
–Shekhinah is the female energy in all things, Samuel, we just need to activate it again when it’s dormant. I like the idea of that water bubble, though! You know, we all have godly powers when we finally let our intuition guide us. As for me, I am just a writer… writing your dream as you are experiencing it right now…
-So we could disappear with just one stroke of your pen? worries Ziryab.
-You could, smiles the writer, but why would I erase you if I painstakingly create each and every one of your steps in this dream universe?
-She has a point there, admits Charlemagne who decides to trust her. So if you are the cause of all this, why did you bring us here?
-I wanted to take you to the movies, she says. This is one of the favorite entertainments of many of my fellow human beings living in the linear time of what they call the present… And you, gentlemen, are fortunate! Since your elephant is taking you on a spirit journey, you can enjoy the movie from a very privileged standpoint, which takes into account the spiraling reality of time. So sit back and relax on Abul Abbas’s back! But before the show begins, can you give me your word tickets?
-Our word tickets??? asks Ziryab.
-Yes, since so many details are taken care of in the creation of your experience, you are expected to at least retain key words. This could be the “fee” you wondered about, Charlemagne, although you’ll soon see what that strange fee really means…
-Oh! remembers Charlemagne, you mean “da world is in a coma, da world battles a fiveg?”
-Thank you, simply answers the writer. Enjoy the show!
The water curtain in front of the elephant and its spectator riders turns into a silvery shine, like the mercury pond Samuel mentioned when retelling his memories of the Caliph’s Palace in Cordoba. On this strange screen, the date ‘2020’ appears in shining light, surrounding the top of a palm tree. “Happy New Year!!!” “Happy New Year!!!” “Happy New Year!!!” is heard from an invisible crowd, which unites in a loud voice saying “We have a present, wrapped in five glittery layers!” And an image appears:
-What a strange palm tree! says Zyriab. It does not look real. What are those boxes around its palms?
-That’s what people use to instantly communicate in a remote fashion in 2020, but the potency of some of these things is seriously affecting the health of all living beings… The frequency of the millimeter waves they use for this technology is way too high. They call it 5G, which stands for fifth generation, but if I were to choose, I’d really prefer your fifth cord for the soul, Ziryab, says the writer. Just before Christmas, I had had the urge to create a decoration that felt healthier, more natural, so I created a pomander, she says as she touches the “water screen” to scroll to the next image of an orange with clove decorations to illustrate what a pomander is.
-How beautiful, admires Ziryab.
-I love it, adds Samuel.
-Me too, agrees Charlemagne.
-Me too at first, sighs the writer. But then I realized it was a warning… So the other day I prayed as I buried the pomander in the earth.
-Why? ask the spectators.
-Because of this, replies their host, a tear running down her cheek.
-Oh they have several models for those fake trees, observes Ziryab. So they also create giant pomanders to make the “trees” look festive?
-It’s exactly what it looks like, right? confirms the writer.
-What does that crown do on top of the tree? asks Charlemagne. It’s like the one I saw on one of my portraits painted long after I was dead.
-Well, that’s the big problem, says the writer. I chose to visually create this for you to see the similarity between what I was strangely urged to do for my Christmas decoration and the other kind of “pomander”, the virus that creates chaos in the living being’s “present” right now, whose effects are worsened by the “fiveg” towers.
-Is that the “invisible enemy” Al-Khatib talked about in my dream? Asks Ziryab.
-One of those enemies, yes. And the crown is there, Charlemagne, because this one is called Corona, “crown”… I don’t want to give it more energy than it already receives 24/7. What I would like you to do is to take a visual journey in the rearview window to help me find a way to ease the damage caused by this virus that has spread all over the world and is greatly affecting people’s lungs.
At these words Charlemagne gasps, since earlier he has mentioned that his own passing was related to lungs as well.
-What could we do? he asks, worried about what he is hearing and resting his hand on the elephant’s head.
Abul Abbas takes this as a signal to enter in action, and the animal furiously takes down the fake tree and its deadly Corona / pomanders, provoking a black out on the water screen of the rearview window to the world…
TO BE CONTINUED : here
10 thoughts on “The Story of the People’s Tree ~ “As Real as Dreams: A Rearview Window to the World” ~”