Ch-11: A Dank Devil of a Dream

Quote of the Day: “Nothing should be, everything could be…” - Guanyin

It's 4:38 in the morning and you know that I am not a morning-person, Jesse. But I just had to pick you and my pen James to rack the rocket of my train of thoughts into little plots of dots to calm down myself.

The thing is, Jesse, I was so excited for our first Intergalactic Music Tour that I couldn't sleep - trust me, counting sheep up to 7 decillion did not work at all. So, it was around 3:35 am that I went to brew myself a cup of coffee. But instead of picking up the coffee beans, I mistakenly stirred up the tea leaves - I am glad that I managed to identify it before I put it in the coffee machine; Six would have chewed me out if she got a tint of tea in her first coffee of the day.

So, well, since I had already picked up the tea - I thought, “Etto… let's make some tea, I guess?” And at that moment, I had an idea - it was the perfect way to practise wielding the Field. I took a pot, and thought extremely hard about water and tried to recall everything I know about it - and it worked, pure boiling water suddenly appeared in the pot. But, well, the hot water was too pure - in fact, it was distilled water. But I was too late to realise that by the time I had taken the first sip of my black tea.

Now, hold on, Jesse - the crux of the story is coming. The moment the second drop of that slightly acidic tea could be felt on my taste buds, I fell asleep and had the strangest vivid dream in my life. And this was the first time I watched a dream from a third person perspective - which I didn’t think was a thing. It was a nightmare. It was as if I was watching a biography - it had third person narration, drama, betrayal, the a traumatizing backstory and an extremely sad ending. I will write it down to you as I remember it - every statement within double inverted commas that follows this sentence is directly quoted from the narration in my dream, Jesse, believe it or not.

“It was a dreary new moon - the cry of life heralded the groan of death. I don’t blame her.”

A small, shabby three-storeyed downtrodden brothel stood beneath a starry moonless sky. Inside it, a beautiful woman with dilated pupils laid on a mattress while a bloody newborn baby with a curved birthmark on his chin cried out at her feet. Then, a loosely dressed woman - apparently irritated by the baby’s test of lungs - defenestrated him.

“My father used to be a rich man. I don’t blame him.”

Several flashes of memory burst right past - A small garage, a corporate meeting, an award ceremony, a lawsuit, a court battle and an abandoned alleyway - all featuring faceless men, except a 127 cm-tall man with a suit and tie. He sat on a rug with his entrepreneur attire when the thrown-out baby fell on his lap from the window above.

“The people were poor and hungry. I don’t blame them.”

The scene of the abandoned alleyway changed to that of the solar system as it slowly zoomed in on to the inner planets, then Earth, then Africa, then to a small village in Chad. Faceless soldiers with torches burnt villages, faceless people with faceless dreams were running away in faceless terror - as the man with the business suit fled away in a flying helicopter, while holding the baby.

“The Land of Liberty wanted freedom for all. I don’t blame it.”

A cruise ship passed by with the Statue of Liberty in the back, boarded by faceless men. The suited man was patting a 4 year-old boy who had a moon-like birthmark on his chin. Then the man was called by another faceless man suited in all black with an earpiece.

“The Land of General Winter wanted equity for all. I don’t blame it.”

A platoon of soldiers marched by a statue of Vladimir Lenin while a red flag with a sickle-and-axe fluttered freely under the blue sky.

“Time is eternal, luck is temporal. I don't blame it.”

A laboratory appeared, smogged with screams and tall faceless scientists with lab coats bound up in injecting faceless, binded people with syringes and stoically noting down their observations on a dull clipboard. In their midst, the short man with the suit stood with a singular tear on his cheeks as he smiled and injected something into the boy, who seemed to be unconscious and a bit older.

“The primary instinct of a living organism is survival. I don’t blame him.”

Lush, verdant fields with the Appalachians in the distance had several groups of faceless young teenagers running around and fighting each other with swords, blades and guns. At the heart of the groups, two teenagers stood out - one had two caprine protrusions on his head and a premature beard trying to hide a lunar birthmark; the other had a sun-like birthmark on the backside of his neck, a chiseled chin and a unibrow that made him look surprisingly handsome. Both held a longsword in one hand and an uzi on the other, apparently skirmishing with each other.

Bullets blared along with swords’ clangour. Blood and sweat rained on every rim of grass. Wounds made by fire and fury healed themselves instantaneously. An eclectic potpourri of 69 martial arts (yes, Jesse, I counted them all) was displayed by each combatant at rapid speeds from every direction. Gunshots through the skull did not bother the omnidirectional clashes, nor did sun and rain, nor night nor day. Days passed, weeks passed, months passed, seasons passed - the battles between genetically enhanced guinea pigs of war continued without rest.

The short man with the suit oversaw the fights from a distance in a tall, sleek building reading through journals and articles detailing every specimen. In gist, the articles stated that - the metabolism of each combatant was enhanced to such an extent that it could convert any matter into energy for itself, at extreme efficiencies. Even without any input, it could automatically extract energy from the Field and transform it as their metabolism required. They also used the Field to create ammunition and weapons for combat.

However, like everything - these pigs for slaughter also had limits.

After exactly 2 years, 2 months, 2 weeks, 2 days, 16 hours, 16 minutes, and 9 seconds - the last two combatants fell unconscious at the exact same time. One had the birthmark of a waning crescent and the other had the birthmark of a blazing ascent. Everyone else had already passed out, injured beyond healing, or died - over a year ago.

“The nations lacked resources and land - I don’t blame them.”

The scene shifted. It was a warzone.

On one side, there were slowly approaching AFVs, T-70s and T-80s as well as constant artillery bombardment from the back. Miles away, missiles were being prepared at launch pads and nuclear silos were being supplied over to the fronts. Helicopters could be seen hovering above and Bomber Jets could be viewed in the distance.

On the other side, there was one man with two horns - dual-wielding longswords… for some reason.

It seemed to be over in an instant. All the AFVs, tanks, attack helicopters, bombers and missiles - shot and obliterated the man with the lunar birthmark in 2.3 seconds. There wasn't even ash left where he stood - but there was a cup of tea.

Yes, Jesse, A CUP OF TEA.

“If there's one thing I could blame, it would be the greatest beverage in existence.”

Every soldier on the field was as flabbergasted as you - probably more flabbergasted, you are used to this stuff by now, Jesse - and took a moment or two to realise that their enemy was just a cup of chai (IT’S NOT CHAI TEA, IT’S JUST CHAI, JESSE! CHAI MEANS TEA!) on the ground.

It took them 1.37 seconds to realise that - but it was already too late.

4 hours later, more than 6800 kilometres away in a shabby apartment in downtown Brooklyn owned by a certain unibrowed coffee-lover and his friend - a reporter on a black-&-white television could be heard reporting on the collapse of the Soviet Union. All nuclear missile silos and military bases had been taken over. Revolutions were springing in East Germany, Yugoslavia, Romania and Hungary - all because a tea-lover had obliterated everything in his sight, as was his orders.

“The world went into chaos - Obviously, I don’t blame them.”

The scene shifted again. It was complete pandemonium. The United States was on a streak of roflstomping every nation that opposed it. Cities burnt to ashes, countries raked to ruins, people persecuted and policed - this was what the Earth looked like.

“And then the aliens arrived.”

The Earth - the Blue Marble of the Human race - seemed extremely tiny, almost invisible, from the orbit of Jupiter. Several cylindrical organisms, with tapering heads, about 2.8 - 4.1 metres tall, with a stark resemblance to old wine bottles, could be seen overseeing a large array of buttons and panels in a humongous spaceship as large as Jupiter LII. Then, in a blink of an eye, the spaceship was in the orbit of the moon - preparing a deadly laser.

While the world was busy scuffling and brawling with each other, it failed to unite in front of an alien invasion. As always, like in every Hollywood movie, the aliens targeted New York - but, it was for a reason this time. They wanted to hunt down their biggest threat - the Sun and Moon.

“We had escaped from our life of misery and decrepitude after our final operation in Leningrad. We bid each other adieu before I went away to become a connoisseur of tea and he went back to our shared apartment in Brooklyn - I never knew that’d be our final goodbye.”

Rungs and strings of devastation rang aloud in the air as it bellowed out loud in agony. Tremors that surpassed any earthquake ever recorded in history resonated across the planet. Cats fell on their backs and water started going upward. The rotation of the planet slowed down and the jet streams started going haywire. Auroras of colours comprising the entire visible spectrum appeared throughout the planet as Earth’s magnetosphere started disintegrating - all because a deadly violet laser from the moon shot through the entire New York City, went through the core of the Earth and then shot back into space through its antipode near Australia.

The coffee-addict with the sun-birthmark on his neck had no time to respond to the threat, despite ‘being able to destroy galaxies’ according to some secret files - he probably disintegrated while having a choco latte.

“It is because of this beverage that I lived, and it is because of this beverage that he died - the drink of the gods, Tea.”

Suddenly, a montage of 169 pictures flashed past my eyes. From Darjeeling to London to Botswana to Argentina to Auckland - every one of those pictures included the bearded man with horns having a cup of tea.

“It is the essence of life, the delicacy of celebration, the core of conscience - and the reason for my continued existence.”

Images and feelings of ecstasy suddenly enveloped my very being, as if I had discovered the Theory of Everything. Bags of tea surrounded me and a cup of hot tea suddenly appeared out of nowhere. A duvet with pictures of different types of tea across the world covered me up as I laid down in a bed that looked like a teaspoon on a cup.

“Life had dealt me some of the worst cards possible.”

Scenes that I had previously seen passed by me - but sped up exponentially.

“I was thrown out of the window, evicted from my home country due to a civil war, beaten into becoming a war machine, forced to murder millions of soldiers and civilians alike - and had my only friend disintegrated by a laser from space.”

Images of all these scenes flashed past me - terror, grief, rage, hatred and pity swirled into a whirlpool of emotions.

“Throughout all this, there was only one thing that gave me the courage to keep on going…”

Lush, green fields sprawled out in front of my eyes, disappearing into the horizon. A chilly hill-breeze soothed my skin as it carried the smell of fresh tea leaves that danced and pranced through the air.

“Throughout distress…”

The clangour of swords clung to my ears.

“Throughout pain and agony…”

A sizzling sensation creeped up my spine.

“Throughout joy and happiness…”

Serotonin and dopamine levels saturated in my blood.

“Throughout loss and grief… rage and disbelief…”

I suddenly had an urge to scream out loud as if I had lost everything I once held dear.

“The only thing, the only one that stayed by me…”

Yes, Jesse, this is going exactly where you think it is.

“...was Tea.”

The environment around me transformed once again.

It changed to the previously-seen alley by the brothel where the short man with a suit was sitting on ragged cloth. The man held the baby, wrapped him in a makeshift towel and laid him on the cloth before going off to steal some powdered milk. However, for some reason, he mistook a tea bag for a bag of powdered milk - somehow - and made black tea instead of milk.

The suited man slapped his forehead and almost threw away the small aluminum pot before seeing that the baby was looking at the pot with sparkling eyes.

Slightly vexed, the man laid down the pot on the cloth and saw that the baby’s eyes followed it. He moved it right, the eyes turned right; he moved it left, the eyes turned left; he rapidly shook it up and down and the baby’s pupils moved like numbers in a slot machine.

The suited man thought for a minute before going off to the backdoor of the closed convenience store again. But by the time he returned, the baby had already started to crawl and poke at the pot of tea - despite the fact that it was probably less than an hour old. The suited man, really intrigued, poured the milk in the tea - and then put the milk tea in the baby bottle he stole before placing it in front of the newborn. And the baby started suckling the tea out of the bottle…

“And that’s how I got addicted to Tea, the greatest thing in existence.”

I swear, Jesse, I am not kidding you. I am telling you everything that I saw, heard, smelled and felt.

“It has been my friend through everything - the most loyal and the most kind of them all.”

A cup of tea whirled in front of me as I sat in a helicopter, looking down at burning villages.

“Through my days as a refugee…”

Large vats with people in aquamarine liquids blossomed out of the helicopter rotors, with the ambience skewed with shrieks and gasps. The tea cup still floated in front of me.

“Through my life as a human test subject…”

The teacup fell onto the ground and shattered into pieces. The pieces of chinaware melted into the black floor and erupted into a splurge of green fields and mountains. Far out into the Appalachians, seven tiny dots scrambled around each other as faceless flashes of lights in the sky. The scenery soon zoomed in on them, and two other boys became visible. One had goat horns and drank from an exquisite teacup and the other had headphones on and was having coffee from a mug.

“Through my best days…”

Then the sky went violently violet and the ground fell apart. The man with the coffee mug faded into the air and fissures tore apart the horizon. It zoomed out of the planet and the scene of the laser tunneling through Earth came into view once more. The vintage bottle-shaped aliens landed in droves across different parts of the world. All nations went to complete anarchy as all life was slowly sucked out of the world, like yeast sucking out the sugar from grape juice.

Then a tall horned man held up a cup of tea into the sky as flocks of spaceships fell down from the sky - and took a sip of what looked like masala chai.

“And through my worst days…”

The North American and Australasian tectonic plates shattered into several hundred chunks, causing rigorous volcanic activity and constant earthquakes all across the world. Volcanic smoke and ash encapsulated the planet, covering it in prolonged permanent darkness.

The wine-bottle-shaped aliens had almost exterminated humanity - only one shelter remained in Taiwan; housing the last remaining 369 humans, it sheltered the only remaining human Field Wielder - ‘GOATSAMA’, as he had come to be known by his little goat-like horns in his head and his apparent love for ‘samata’ or equality, as ordained by, in his own words, “chai-loving saints in India”. Mandarin pronunciation truncated and morphed the Sanskrit ‘sama’ from ‘samata’ (pronounced as ‘sum-uh’, in English) into the more Japanese-sounding ‘SAMA’ (Yes, it is all uppercase for some reason - and I am not making that up, Jesse; it’s pronounced like ‘saa-maa’, if transliterated into English).

GOATSAMA was sleeping inside a shanty shack when the wine-bottle-shaped aliens in their spiral spaceships launched a final assault against humanity.

The aliens had already made several dozen spa and resorts in the newly-created active volcanoes that have sprung up in the last four years since their first attack on New York. Apparently, their species loved the flowing molten lava and minerals, so they wanted to colonise a planet just for this purpose - and Earth just happened to be their optimum choice. However, they didn’t expect such a stiff opposition - but they came ready for this last invasion.

The aliens would have left the humans alone if it were not for Mt. Beiwan, a newly-formed active volcano with the perfect altitude and mineral composition for their lava spas, located in the island of Taiwan. They couldn’t use their death laser again, as that’d ruin the volcano and their profits, and nor did they have any Field Wielders with powers enough to rival GOATSAMA.

So, guess what they did, Jesse?

They lured him with tea.

At this point, I know you aren’t even surprised.

‘How?’ - you ask? How indeed.

By putting a humongous amount of tea in a humongous teacup, having GOATSAMA fly over following its aroma, choking out the remaining humans with volcanic ash and then guilt-tripping him into surrendering - of course!

“Through the end of the world…”

GOATSAMA couldn’t help but weep silently - even while having a cup of tea in a prison aboard the alien spaceship. He weeped for his birth, and he wished for his death. He looked back on his life as he looked forward to his death - he could annihilate these wine bottles right then and there, but he had no reason to do it. His only friend was dead, his adoptive father was supposedly dead, the people who made him tea every day in return for his protection were dead - all dead. All of them - because of tea. Or at least, that’s what he thought.

The aliens would have had Earth as their lovely spa resort - only if things hadn’t aligned at the wrong place at the wrong time with the wrong person.

“And through its rebirth…”

GOATSAMA’s tea spilled.

He sobbed out loud.

The spaceship was refueling at one of their resorts in Pothigai Hills, where a new active volcano had sprouted up.

It was the 19th day of the second month in the Chinese Lunar Calendar.

The Goddess of Mercy woke up on her birthday with a yawn in her castle deep inside the hills, which the mythos call Mt. Potalaka - and she was surprised to hear only one cry of despair resound across the entire planet.

Guanyin, the Bodhisattva of Kindness, rose up from her seat in Mt. Potalaka and visited GOATSAMA, who was banging his head against the prison walls, sobbing in agony after throwing away and breaking his cup of tea.

A freckled beauty with a lotus bindi wearing a flowing white saree and a yellow blouse, she slowly walked into the prison, phasing through the laser bars. He tapped GOATSAMA on his shoulders and he slowly turned around, still sobbing loudly. Guanyin gave him a cup of black tea and silently swept away his tears before coming out of the alien spaceship and going on a tour of the planet, to know what happened while she slept.

GOATSAMA, still in shock, just kept sipping his cup of tea - and kept sipping it even after there was no tea left in it. Guanyin returned to him after her quick tour and reconnaissance, held his hand, and dragged him out to the molten lava pool that once used to be New York using what seemed to be Alcubierre Drive. GOATSAMA’s teacup slipped through his hands as his body convulsed, but Guanyin caught it, refilled it with traditional Chinese tea, and returned it to him as she looked forward towards the lava cesspool which now covers the once-bustling metropolis.

Scenes of carnage and destruction flashed past her eyes as the aliens’ meticulously planned human genocide replayed in her ears, as she heard every cry and howl sent out into space in the last four years. A singular tear flowed down from the third eye in her forehead before she extended her two arms forward. She rose up into the sky and showed her true form - a gargantuan behemoth with a thousand hands, sitting on a lotus, with a dragon wrapped around her chest and a white parrot on her shoulder.

Her thousand hands stretched apart the fabric of spacetime as all Field perturbations slowly turned in on themselves. Each of her thousand hands scrupulously weaved back every string of the Dark Field as she started to resurrect people and heal the planet. One by one, she resurrected the deceased 3.6 billion humans, and returned the planet to its state before the alien invasion. She returned the wine-bottle-shaped aliens to their homes and made a protective force-field around Earth.

After witnessing this, GOATSAMA immediately zapped into the apartment shared with his deceased friend - perhaps hoping to find him. However, even after combing through his apartment and the rest of the planet, he couldn’t find him. He zapped back to Guanyin, begging for his friend to be resurrected. To which she replied that she couldn’t do it - for reasons unknown to her.

Heartbroken, GOATSAMA looked up at Guanyin, fell at her feet, kowtowed, and pleadex her to bring back the Sun to his Moon - only to be looked at by her with pity.

“She told me, ‘The world is cruel… Nothing should be, everything could be… and yet, we must pursue the should instead of blindly following the could… I hope you understand that, dear.’”

The world went back to normal, except the renewed reverence of the Bodhisattva. Guanyin discovered that the deities of all realms were put fast asleep for several thousand years now, including the Buddha. She went out of her way to wake up every Chinese god, spirit, constellation and other supernatural beings - before getting tired and going back to Mt. Potalaka for a good nap.

GOATSAMA, meanwhile, didn’t know what to do anymore. He spent his days in the Himalayas, drinking tea and weeping, before the mountain spirit of the Himalayas took notice of him. He was accepted into the Heavenly Jade Palace as a servant of Devaraja Li who later used him as a mercenary.

GOATSAMA, bathed in nihilism, had nothing better to do - so he accepted his position in heaven. Sometimes, he came back to Earth in the form of a goat-lycanthrope in the woods of Virginia to douse his grief. He lived in a humid cave in the woods in Prince George’s County - and the locals called him ‘The Dank Devil’.

Then, everything changed when the Fire nation attack - I mean, when the Merger started. Sorry, Jesse, I had to make a reference - don’t blame me.

“My greatest boon and bane… Tea… It has stayed with me, till this moment… For now, I have no other choice but to sacrifice it for the sake of my world…”

Fissures and crackles of energy warped spacetime - the wave functions of two universes had somehow entangled with each other, slowly causing them to become one. Memories coalesced. Time and space altered their position. It was total chaos and pandemonium - and even heaven was not spared.

The only way to ensure their survival was to destroy the other universe - or at least that’s what the courtiers of the Jade Palace decided. As the Buddha was still asleep, the Jade Emperor sent the mightiest tool in his arsenal - GOATSAMA into the fray.

But the Chinese Heaven was met with stern opposition - the Japanese Heaven from the other world. They had the same goal in mind - survival. It was kill or die - and they chose the former.

GOATSAMA couldn’t care about his continued existence, he simply followed his orders as a mercenary. He had fought across the palaces of the Seven Gods of Luck, defeated beasts and spirits, and even annihilated Amaterasu - all while sipping a cup of tea. However, his true opposition came in the form of a formless robotic conscience - a mercenary of the Japanese Heaven.

They fought across space and time. They fought across galaxies and nebulas. They fought through timelines and worldlines - but neither could best the other. In the end, GOATSAMA stared directly at me, the dreamer and told me something.

“To you, the one watching this across the vast web of time and space that entraps existence - I would like to tell you just one thing. Life is meaningless, thus, the only meaning that means anything is life. Cherish your life, no matter how many times you fall down - try your best to rise up again. Make friends, be kind - so that you have someone to lift you up on your worst days. And don’t worry if you fail in doing any of that, all ways of life are equally meaningless - so, well, all you could do is to try your best - or not. I hope this little message gives you the same strength and courage that Tea gives me - keep on living and have some Tea.”

He looked back toward the robot, held his cup of tea - and sipped it. Then, he said -

“Well, that shall be my last cup of tea. Thank you, Tea, my dear friend.” -

Before throwing away the cup and chanting a couplet:

“The leaves of bounty - wither and fade,

Lest the angels know that the devil prayed.”

And then I woke up.

Yes, Jesse - that was a rollercoaster of a backstory - and I have no idea what to make of it or tge whereabouts of everyonr in that movie of a dream. I had no idea what to do - so, I wrote it down on you to satiate my excitement. It’s already 5:49 AM and Six hasn’t woken up yet! The concert starts at eight - and we still have to rehearse the music! Go-kun and Hachi-kun will be here soon! I will see you later, Jesse!

P.S.: Take care of James while I am gone!

Next chapter: Prove 1+1=2...?