The Serpent's Song

by S. Robertson

  With Andrew and Bryce she took some time, saying, “I do hope you have been able to access some of our history and cultural background. This will help us know each other better. It is also a pleasure for us to meet senior members of your society. I’m sure your sage advice has been fortuitous for your younger colleagues.” Andrew and Bryce were pleased with their first meeting with the Queen.

  With each member of Dylan’s team she had a personal comment to let them know that they were known individually to her and she appreciated their presence in the venture.

  It was well passed the hour when the reception was officially over, the Queen leaving by the same door she entered. Just before her departure, she invited the group to come to an adjoining room for refreshments.

  They waited a few minutes before accompanying Sirona and Myttrwn into the next room only to discover it was a patio set up with white table clothes, cushioned chairs, and golden utensils with gigantic large pots of scented flowers placed at key locations. Once seated, royal attendants brought platters of fruit, vegetables and sweets along with a white liquid which they poured into gold trimmed crystal glasses.

  Sirona and Myttrwn joined the Queen at the head table while the group of twelve were directed to three tables of four. Angi, seated with Andrew, Wolfram and Joel, asked Andrew, seated opposite, “Do you think this is a wine or a sparkling fruit drink? It has, I believe, a taste of pear but also something I can’t identify. It’s light, slightly dry and it tingles.”

  “Angi, I have no idea what it is but, as I said before, enjoy but drink sparingly. We haven’t had this before and when in royal company it might be quite powerful. I must say those sweets have caught my eye. I expect the sweetness is due to honey, but what a tantalizing taste. See, I too must be careful,” as he winked at Angi. “By the way, I expect this audience with the Queen was because of your medallion. She was captivated by you, and, you may note, she indicated she would like another audience. I expect the next one will be with you alone. I’d love to know what Sirona and Myttrwn have been saying about us. This is when I’d like telepathy.”

  Angi, Wolfram and Joel laughed.

  Joel had been silent as he savoured the different offerings. Finally he spoke, “You know this has been a mind blowing adventure for me and our security team. I’ve not only learned more about worlds I never even thought existed, but have been flabbergasted by what can be achieved with their replicators. Imagine what we could do with this technology back home. I have no idea how I could, or would be allowed to tell anyone of this trip. That will be a tough order.”

  “Joel, you’re not the only one. I expect we shall just be able to chat about this with our own colleagues for some time to come,” said Wolfram. “I’m glad to have had a chance to learn so much and would like to get more pilot training. But, I know we must return home. But there’s always next time, right?”

  Before anyone else had a chance to talk a group of senior harpists entered the room and provided a half hour of angelic music, the tunes reaching out to the very souls of the party. Angi sat in rapture admiring their skills and wondering if she was up to a harp performance before the Queen.

  Time passed, and eventually the Queen rose to mark the end of the occasion. The group thanked Sirona and returned to Corb at the reception room door. While he was prepared to fly them back to their House of Learning, they said they would like to slowly walk down the hill giving them time to enjoy the scenery. Unperturbed, Corb guided them to the Palace entrance and waved them good bye. The rest of the journey downhill was filled with lively chatter as they shared their perceptions of the day.

  * * *

  House of Learning, Angi’s Suite

  Buoyed up, they sat for some time sharing thoughts and debating the purpose of the Queen’s invitation. Andrew was convinced it had everything to do with Angi, while others argued it was a courtesy to all royal guests midway in their time in Tir na nOg. The matter remained unresolved as they said their ‘good nights.’

  Angi, surprised by her weariness, went straight to bed. Her dreams were filled with marble palaces, foreign dignitaries and a lavish meal with the glitter of gold everywhere. Somewhere towards dawn she was awakened by the feeling of a presence in her suite. Sitting up in bed she tried to discern any movement in the darkness. A gentle morning breeze ushered in a faint scent of jasmine. She waited, her instincts sharpened. Then a familiar voice broke the spell.

  “Well, Angi Talismann, you’ve certainly been dining in grand style. What did you think of the Royal Palace?” was Adawee’s introduction.

  The warmth of her voice comforted Angi and she replied, “Oh, Adawee, what a spectacular place, it was like a dream. Actually, better than a dream. Living in such magnificence must do something to one’s soul. But I expect it comes with immense responsibilities. The Queen was gracious and even spoke English, much to our delight. Imagine learning another language so quickly. That’s going the extra mile.” Then she remembered her Snowy Owl had done the same and added, “Just like you, Adawee. I’m so impressed with such kindness that I’m going to get Andrew to teach me Gaelic when I get home. However, I can assure you I will not be able to master this language overnight, but I’ll do it in time.” At this point, Angi turned on a nightlight to see that Adawee was sitting on a thin bar near her bed and commented, “I suppose you didn’t fly through the sensory barrier at the door, as, being a hologram, you can appear anywhere, right?”

  “You are clever, Angi. I did not need the doorway. I thought, this time, I’d spare you the journey to the balcony. I’m pleased to see you intend to keep growing. Learning another language, for whatever reason, is good for your brain. Now if you’re awake, I wonder if we might continue our chats, as you call them.”

  Growing used to Adawee’s unscheduled visits she replied, “Sure, I’m awake. What’s our topic this time?” Angi moved to a comfortable position in her bed and thought to herself, “Now’s the time for some comfy pillows. Ah well, work with what you got.” She rolled up an apparent blanket and moved to brace herself against the head of the bed.

  Adawee, shifted her position to stare directly at Angi saying, “Tonight I’d like to discuss dreams.”

  Angi repeated the word………‘dreams’ and thought for a few minutes before commenting. “Now that I think of it, I suppose I have two versions; one I learned from my grandmother, the other I acquired through my professional studies. They are similar but different. I’ll begin with my childhood version. My grandmother’s first question each morning was, “Angi, did you dream?” She waited until I provided my best description. Sometimes she commented but other times she just nodded. Basically, she felt dreams were a window into a person’s whole being; physically, mentally and spiritually. When she thought it necessary she would provide guidance. She was rarely wrong. She was especially concerned about identical dreams which repeated three times.”

  “Your grandmother was a wise woman,” replied Adawee. “Go on, what did you discover about dreams in your professional world?”

  “In my professional education we took several psychology courses, a few mentioned dreams. Basically, leading psychoanalysts held different views. The older ones thought dreams were disguised expressions of the unconscious and might be philosophical pronouncements, illusions, fantasies, irrational experiences or telepathic visions. However, current scholars regard dreams as simply a reflection of everyday life. In addition, interpretation of dreams was relegated to qualified professionals like psychologists and psychiatrists, those requiring payment for their services. Lowly nurses were not included. So, I expect, the majority of nurses ignore the topic.”

  “So, Angi, what would a nurse do if a patient insisted on talking about his or her dreams?”

  “Well, if the nurse had time, a rarity these days in the health industry, she would listen. Medical doctors, except psychiatrists, had no interest in such topics so nothing would appear on the patient’s record. Even if the nurse listened she would let the patient form his or her own
opinion.”

  “What you’re saying, unlike your grandmother, is that dreams are no longer an essential part of your lives, and, I expect, any spiritual connection has been lost?”

  “I guess that’s one way of looking at it. Today we pride ourselves at being so sophisticated that we no longer need the interpretation of dreams. The health industry is there to address our physical needs and God, the devil, dreams, intuition, extrasensory perception, and/or spiritual development, has been rationalized out of existence for a good many. As such, I learned never to share my dreams with outsiders, including my nursing colleagues. If I described some of my weird dreams to my colleagues they might snicker thinking it a joke, or question my sanity. Certainly, most would not consider dreams a guidance system, psychological or spiritual.”

  Adawee, repositioned herself on the pole and continued, “Your grandmother was right, dreams are an inexhaustible source of valuable information. As your older scholars identified, dreams arise out of the unconscious, the messages being delivered in a symbolic language. Dream vocabulary is specific to each individual and simultaneous interpretations are possible. It’s the dreamer who decides which one is the most valid. Dreams also need to be analysed as a series, a single dream may be just a peripheral aspect of the message. That would explain your grandmother’s daily request about your dreams, she was assessing the whole picture. Some cultures with great understanding of the symbolic language in dreams use this to guide them in their psychological and spiritual development.”

  “Well perhaps I have not been entirely correct. Nurses working with the mentally ill may use dreams to interpret psychological problems in their patients. I would doubt there is any reference to a spiritual message.”

  “Then there is some use of dreams to aid in the healing of certain individuals but it is not a general practice, would that be your assessment?” asked Adawee.”

  “Yes, that would be the best description. It is a tool in diagnosing mental illness,” replied Angi.

  “How limiting, it speaks of a society which has discarded their built-in Divine guidance system. Can you explain why you are different?”

  “I suppose I owe it all to my grandmother which allowed my right brain to develop but this right-brain ability often clashed with the left brain world in which I lived.”

  “Yes, it is wise to remain silent. Do you think there are others like yourself who share your understanding of dreams?”

  “Oh, I expect there are. They would likely be found in what we refer to as the alternative health community. Unfortunately, such individuals are usually shunned by the scientific health community. But I’m heartened to hear that there will be greater right-left brain balance in the Dwarapa Yuga. But I sense you have some concern our present system is not too healthy, is that correct?”

  “That is right, Angi. But since societies in transition tend to discard old religious or psychological practices in their struggle to adopt a new one, are there any signs a new one is emerging, excluding your comment on the alternative health community?”

  “Let me think,”………….. There was a brief silence as Angi thought of Adawee’s question, then she replied, “I expect some would argue a replacement tradition is well underway but at this point it appears to be a hodgepodge of materialistic and politically correct beliefs, symbols, and practices. Most focus on the physical, and the whole process fails to address the deep seated anxieties and problems of our modern life. Those disturbed by their dreams are mainly referred to left-brain practitioners which I mentioned earlier. It’s a catch 22.”

  Adawee repeated the phrase, “A catch 22………. what does that mean Angi?”

  “Oh, sorry, it’s a way of saying these individuals get caught in a situation where there seems to be no escape because of conflicting conditions. Dreams, if analyzed at all, are seen as a minefield to diagnose mental illness not as a spiritual guidance system. Our focus is on illness to be treated with drugs as the answer to everything. But, Adawee, what happens to a people adrift with no understanding of this Divine gift?”

  “If this inner truth is neglected it may reappear as some personalized demon which can be frightening to an individual. Rudderless, lost without an understanding of their own guidance system, the individual must face their own deep-seated psychological and spiritual issues alone. Angi, do you think this is intractable?” asked Adawee.

  “Perhaps I tend to be a bit overdramatic. Let me rethink my answers,” Angi remained silent for a few minutes before continuing. “For the past fifty years our western society has marched to a scientific left-brain drummer. The departure of our current elder population will spell a further demise of traditional religious organizations, where our previous spiritual guidance once dwelt. Admittedly, even in these organizations dreams were rarely discussed although frequently mentioned in our religious texts. This loss will exacerbate the problem. Equally, I see little change in the education of health care professionals. We have specialized everyone into tighter and tighter corners with little room for innovation.” Then she added, “If I suggested a need for serial dream analysers I expect it would just become another specialty. Yet, there is a booming business in dream literature, internet information and those who are willing to translate your dreams but these exist outside the health community. Whether this is enough or the translations are of any quality remains a question. So, as I see it, overall change may require a crisis or a miracle. As for your question of how long can a society exist before something happens, I have no idea. Once again I bow to your wisdom.”

  “It may not be as bleak as you think, Angi. Psychic abilities are natural qualities of every soul. You have the ability to pick up thoughts, impressions, hunches and energy patterns of those around you. As you have learned from Myttrwn, every thought is an electro-magnetic beam of energy. The problem in your world is that this ability has been allowed to wither. So, I expect as your enlightenment grows there will be more and more people with psychic abilities who will demand change. Then, the symbolic language of dreams will be reawakened for everyone and used to not only diagnose psychological and spiritual problems but to guide each individual along his or her own heroic journey.”

  “You mean that we all have telepathic abilities?” asked Angi, somewhat surprised by Adawee’s comments.

  “Yes, in the years ahead these will become more astute. For that reason it is good your team has had this venture into our world, they will be able to communicate to your world that having everyone so gifted is not a negative, but a positive. Admittedly, for some it will be a threat. But before your psychic abilities can be enhanced your people will need greater self-control and emotional detachment, a hard call in a world where sensationalism and emotional overload are the norm.”

  Adawee, before you go, and since we’ve been talking about dreams. I wonder if you might help me with a recent dream I’ve been having. It’s occurred twice and I dread a third occurrence, but expect it will come.”

  Caught off guard, Adawee replied, “Certainly, Angi, what is this dream of yours?”

  “In my dream I’m in a semi-darkened room, a lighted, raised altar sits at the centre of this huge room. I sense that I need to make my way towards this altar but do not know why. When I step forward some kind of monster with burning eyes attacks me and I feel myself falling into a dark pit. At that moment, I wake up.”

  There was no response from Adawee for about five minutes, then she replied, “Your grandmother was right about a thrice-repeated dream, Angi. As you may know, intuition is just another dream form which, for some, may appear as gut feelings, forebodings, or premonitions. Your intuition is interpreting clues in your present environment unavailable to your five senses. My interpretation of your dream is that it is a warning. There is danger ahead for you, Angi. Be vigilant. Whatever transpires, remember, sometimes the darkest moment often holds the greatest treasure. You are not alone in your journey, rely on your companions, they are there for a reason. I can add little else at this point.�
��

  “Thank you, Adawee, You’ve confirmed my suspicions. You remind me of my grandmother who always insisted I work out my own life. I like that.” Angi wasn’t sure whether Adawee couldn’t or wouldn’t provide more detail.

  “It’s nice to know that I may be of some help, Angi,” replied Adawee whose movements signaled her departure.

  “I know our time is up. Thanks again for opening another door for me. I’ll not ask this time but will wait until you think it’s OK to tell my friends about you. I have much to think about.”

  “Dream on, Angi. Listen to your own soul for you have gifts not yet available to most of your people.” And with that Adawee evaporated leaving Angi with lingering thoughts on her own safety and concerns for her earthly homeland.

  * * *

  House of Learning

  After days of solo practice, Carola, the Director of the Harp School, set a date for the musical group to get together. The twelve gathered in the same place as their first encounter with the group of harpists; an internal open air court on the first level of the House of Learning.

  Carola first segregated the musicians; Angi joining the four student harpists, while Wolfram, with his enhanced guitar, joined the six violinists. Satisfied each musician had sufficient space, she pointed out their first session’s objective, “We’ll begin by having each group play their part and, when we’re comfortable with that, we’ll pull the whole program together. As agreed, the program will open with the harps playing a jaunty number which will connect with the primary music of Keegan’s Jig and Lannigan’s Ball. Then everyone will proceed with the musical jig.” Looking around she sensed the expectation and nervousness in the group, some with greater instrumental experience than others and, for the students, their first time playing unusual music from another planet. Not wishing to delay, she gave the signal to begin by tapping on the musical stand with her hand.