Image: Antaboga The Naga, traditional Indonesian depiction of the Naga (dragon)
Source: wikipedia
I was the favorite concubine of the Emperor of the Dragon Lair on the top of Mount Wayang.
At least, that was what the psychic said. Sitting crossed legs in the lotus pose, puffing her cigarette, her long hair tied into a bundle, she closed her eyes.
“He noticed you when you scaled his mountain. It was...was it 1990?” the slender psychic opened her eyes for a second to look at me. I gaped a little. How did she know? I did scale Mount Wayang with several fellow students around that time. This mountain situated about 90 km South of the bustling city of Bandung, West Java, Indonesia. The longest river in West Java, the Citarum, has its source on top of this serene mountain, a crystal clear pond surrounded by dense tropical forest. It was to this pond that me and my friends went, setting our tents on a lower attitude than the spring.
To the question asked by the psychic, I could only nod.
“Yeah,” she smiled. “He recognized you there and then.”
My aunt, the one who brought me to the psychic’s home, cleared her throat.
“Can you please tell us what will happen to my niece because of that?”
The psychic jammed her cigarette butt to the ashtray.
“What will happen? The exact reason why you brought her here,” she said, smiled a little. “He will see to it that your niece would never marry.”
It was lucky that my poor mouth was attached to my head so it didn’t fell to the floor.
“You mean some supernatural being could prevent me from marrying anyone? Just... how?” I stared at her. Being a student in our country’s most prominet technical institute, I was somewhat of a skeptic.
“This is beyond our human boundary,” the psychic shrugged. “Have you had reoccurring dreams before...? Dreams about something that you don’t understand?”
I was still struggling with my studio assignments, which included making building models in 1:100 scale, so I rarely had a good night’s sleep. But yes... come to think of it, I did have several reoccurring dreams. Ever since... forever? Yes, ever since I could remember.
The psychic seemed to read my thoughts. She smiled knowingly, lit another cigarette and took a deep inhale.“Were they about water, an ancient city, and a gigantic snake?” she asked. At that instant, goose bumps just poked all over my skin. How the... ?
“That ancient city where all the building were carved from black stone was your capital city. And this supernatural being that we were talking about, he was once the Emperor in that kingdom, which capital city you kept seeing in your dreams...It was here in West Java, situated in the region of Mount Wayang.” With that incredible opening, the psychic began to unravel an amazing story about how I, in my past life, was the daughter of a priest, who was brought to the palace as the seventh concubine to the Emperor.
According to ancient tradition, the ceremony of picking a new concubine always began with a special ritual involving bathing in a sacred spring where the ancestors of the King were cremated. There was supposed to be some kind of a “retreat palace” there, with some part of it facing the clear spring. The girls who were the candidates of prospective concubines were required to take a dip in this spring, while from a closed quarter in the mansion above the spring the King would watch them bathe and chose whoever it was that met his taste.
And that spring happened to be the exact spring where I went camping.
“But that is... “ I stuttered. “Ridiculous?” the psychic grinned. “Maybe. Try to describe the snake that you saw in your dreams to me.”
I remember the snake as the spookiest sight I have ever dreamed of. It was huge, the size of a barrel, its skin appeared as reddish-copper scales in irregular pattern with blotches of blackish lichen crusts peeled here and there, revealing pale pink, revolting bare meat. The creepiest part was its head, with blunt nose resembling an anaconda, and a pair of unblinking, cold yellow eyes... with an acient, greenish crown on top of the head.
“Yes,” the psychic nodded in approval. “That’s him. That is the way he also appears to me.” Her eyes measured me, she smacked her lips. “There is just one more thing to confirm. He said his concubine had a little mole on her left areola.”
That did it. I felt chill ran down my spine. My aunt’s hand reaching for my suddenly clammy hand, the sole recognition to what the psychic had just said.
“But if he is a supernatural being, how can I be his concubine? I am pretty much flesh and blood here!” I tried to reason my way out of the realm of twilight zone.
“Honey, he was once a human, too. But he was strong, spiritually. Like most ancient kings did... His spiritual power transferred him into a parallel world once he passed away... a parallel world where he can still contact you, through means of dreams.”
I really hate this lady, with her pretty oval face and perfect skin, smiling a knowing smile while unfolding the so called my past life. I was well loved, the Emperor showered me with imported jewelleries and sweets, which he had never gave to anyone else. The kingdom hadn’t throned a queen yet, so I was the strongest candidate to be one. But this was met with a frown from the King’s family, who had wanted a princess from a neighboring country to be Queen. So they get rid of me, by sending an assassin to my bedroom and strangled me by wrapping a wet silk cloth around my face.
“The asthma you got now is the reminiscence of that event,” said the psychic . I avoided her eyes, feeling deprived from all of my defense.
My aunt took a deep breath. “So what can we do about that?”
“I can try to talk him out of this,” said the psychic. “I am going to do that next Monday night. But I need several things from you.”
She beckoned to my aunt, who took my wellworn shirt with her. That shirt was intentionally prepared for this. Then the two disappeared behind a door. I sat there staring at my hands, didn’t quite sure what to feel. So this was the reason why all those heartaches? All those pains? Afterall these years, my seemingly inability to be loved—in an eros way--by the opposite sex was the result of some supernatural being falling for me?
My aunt came out with something in a small container. She handed the container to my mother, who sat silently beside me all of the time.
“You need to bathe her using these fruits,” said my aunt. “And with these flowers mixed into the water. This is to clear the mark he'd put on D. But.... be prepared, for a battle will occur. He would try to keep her no matter what,” In the container were three kaffir limes (Citrys histrix) and about a handful of roses, jasmine and other fragrant flowers.
My mother, being the cool, strong woman that she was, took the container. “Okay,” was her only answer.
She bathed me alright, the fragrance of the kaffir lime and jasmine stick to my hair for three days. I didn’t know what happened to the psychic on Monday night—the promised battle time. Until my aunt told me.
Apparently the psychic sat alone in her meditation room with the door wide open that night. She recited several prayers and contacted the King, asking him to release me. It was a little past eleven pm. At first there was nothing, the lamp was out in her room, the house was quiet. She kept praying and meditating, focusing her mind to the King. Then shortly before midnight, a pair of glowing eyes appeared on the door threshold. The glow was reddish, as it slowly make itself more apparent. The psychic could identified an outline, resembling a humanoid, but in a transparent state. The being stood there staring at her, before slowly approached, spreading strong smell of incense. Then the psychic felt a violent tug on her hair, knocking her from her lotus position she was assuming. She quickly resumed her position, began to chant a special prayer loudly. Again the thing hit her, this time leaving a mark on her left shoulder. She braced herself and pray louder, resulting in making the being pushed back a little. They continued struggling, the psychic kept reciting the prayer while asking the being to set me free.
Source : flickr
Meanwhile, in the same night, buried under two covers in my chilly bedroom, far from the psychic’s house, I had a dream.
I was standing alone by a little lake, grasses and trees grew thick around it. It was dark, but I could see some sort of light reflected on the surface of the lake. It was eerily still. Then I noticed someone standing across the lake from me. Dressed in white robe and trousers, white sash around his waist/ His thick hair bundled to a knot on top of his head, hair so long that even with the bundle, the rest of it still cascading upon his shoulder. One thing that instantly made me recognized him was the crown. The greenish crown on the snake’s head from my dreams.
He was a handsome man in his late twenties, tall and slender built. He had an ancient aura around him, like that we got from staring at a lichen-covered statue in an old temple. He silently regarding me with dark wistful eyes. Our eyes collided. The grief and sorrow in his stare was so intense that even in the state of dreaming I felt a pang of sadness caught my heart. He continued staring, and I began to notice a movement behind his head. What I thought was a shawl on his shoulder, raised its head and revealed itself as a huge snake. In an undulating movement the snake stretched its neck, accross the lake toward me, its mouth gaping. I jumped away in fear, fully awakened.
That morning my aunt called. She told my mom and me about the struggle the psychic had with the being in her meditation room.
“Got a few bruises, she was thrown clear across the room,” said my aunt. “It was tough, but at long last he gave in. He set you free, D. He had returned back to his kingdom.”
So that was it. He bid me his farewell in that last dream. I would never be able to forget those sorrowful eyes, staring at me from across a dark lake.
Three years later I married my husband.