GLEYONDRA: The Dream-Child

EPISODE 14: Wish

THE CHILD-WELCOMING consecration was a cornerstone tradition among the Seyan clan, a sacred ceremony that symbolized the formal invitation of a newborn into the vibrant Seyan way of life. Every child was "welcomed" at the stroke of midnight on the day of their birth, marking a profound celebration of life and continuity.

At the heart of the ritual, the father carried his infant to the consecration arena, a space teeming with onlookers illuminated by the silvery glow of the Queen of the Night -- Seyan's poetic name for the full moon. As he approached the priestess's shrine, a young and graceful female acolyte emerged from the shadows, meeting him midway. She gently took the child from his arms and returned to the priestess, where the sacred rites began.

Under the watchful gaze of the Seyan people, the priestess performed the consecration. She whispered incantations, her voice weaving through the night like a song, and anointed the infant's forehead. This act, rich in symbolic meaning, was believed to awaken the child's "third eye," the mystical "Eye of the Soul" said to reside between the eyebrows. In Seyan culture, this awakening was thought to unlock the child's spiritual awareness and connection to their ancestral roots.

Once the blessing was complete, the priestess returned the child to the acolyte, who carried the infant back to the father. He then moved to the second and most significant stage of the ceremony.

This crucial moment held great weight in Seyan beliefs, as it was thought to shape the child's destiny. The father, standing beneath the vast midnight sky, would lift the child high, bathed in moonlight, and make a heartfelt wish for the child's future -- a prayer etched into the stars.

As Kuvow, the infant's father, removed the soft blanket and raised his naked child to the moonlit heavens, the ritual unfolded with solemnity. He was about to speak his wish when the stillness of the night was pierced by an eerie, crystalline voice that seemed to echo from nowhere, halting him mid-sentence.

"May I?"

Taken aback, Kuvow lowered the child, glancing around in turn, puzzled. "What?"

The source of the voice singled himself from the murmuring crowd. He was clad in a large Oriental fisherman's hat, and a dark, rich caftan, his countenance clearly concealed under the hat.

"Wh-who are you?" challenged Kuvow.

The stranger paced contemplatively. "My identity is not important." His accent was unmistakably Oriental. "What is important is the identity of the child. Your wish must be important, too, because it will come true!" His emphasis on the "will" was very striking.

"What are you talking about?" Kuvow was more confused than ever, as he clung tighter to his delicate daughter. "Who are you --?"

"Reveal yourself!" challenged Ma-Chetanua boldly, planting herself between Kuvow and the stranger.

"Not important. Otherwise you can call me Fisherman."

"He lies!" It was the priestess speaking. She was African-accented in a shrill, silky voice. Her name was Verzzor, an aged, pretty sage in her late sixties. "He sounds more like a Star-Gazer."

"Whoops! How clumsy of me to have forgotten that Seers see beyond the veil. And no ordinary Seer could still unveil my identity unless she is a Star-Gazer as well." He was pacing, more like drifting, meditatively, towards the priestess.

"You're damn right, I'm a Star-Gazer!" she responded firmly.

"Even so," he turned swiftly in a blaze of energy towards Kuvow's direction, "your wish for the child had better be good for she is a very special gift."

"Don't you think I know that?" edged in Verzzor. "I was about to --"

Suddenly, as though conjuring some unseen forces of silence, the stranger, with his two fingers pointing skywards, silenced, not just the priestess, but the crowd as well. "Behold!" he bawled. "The shooting star of her destiny!" -- pointing swiftly through Ma-Chetanua to Kuvow with the same fingers. "Now is the time that you must wish!"

As all eyes gazed in awe-inspiration toward the blazing star, the stranger disappeared just as mysteriously as he had appeared.

~~~

My father's wish was the most poetic ever uttered. He said that when he eventually opened his mouth to say it, the words that came out of his lips weren't even near what he had in mind to say. I guess they came from the heart, intuitively teleguided by an inner voice of an unknown source, and prophetically rendered through my father's tongue, saying: "I wish that all my child's well-wishes may come true!"