Mountain of Reveries,

/Legend/,

by J. W. Cassandra

The story entitled Mountain of Reveries can be classified more in genre as a legend indicated in the subtitle, yet it was included in the collection of short stories entitled The Unknown Pathway. On the one hand, because, as you will see later, you will find other stories intertwined with legends in this volume, and on the other hand, because legends often show the hidden path. This legend may be like that.

The story takes place in the distant past, lost in the mists of human memory. The main character is the mountain in the title. But this mountain is not any kind of mountain: it is capable of changing place, occasionally migrating or walking from one place to another. With its magic charm, it allures souls to daydream and to chase mirages insidiously, as it will turn out. Against the captivating enchanter, the old wise man from the village in the story can only give advice to the people.

In the sequel, you will also learn about the secret promised by the Spirit of the Mountain. The wise old man's advice is to perform the spell with wreaths woven from fragrant herbs - this is also the way of secrets. It also explains how the pleasant landscape turned into a wasteland, and what became of the other mountains of this kind.

I hope you will find this publication interesting! I wish you a good read! Come back later to get to know my other works!

What I am now telling you goes back to a time as distant as human memory can scarcely penetrate.

The Earth has not always been characterized by current climatic conditions. A long time ago, the mountains wandered from time to time to other places when they got bored with the landscape where they had been rising so far. At that time, in that hemisphere, in the place of which the legend arose from the mists of time, which our forefathers had once heard from their forefathers, the ground was covered with rich vegetation. Rivers and streams flowing from them crossed the plain. Wide, well-travelled roads cut through it, and on these roads a host of merchants, mongers, and curious travellers arrived, stayed for a while, and then passed on. The village that these roads crossed made a rich living by collecting customs duties. It grew nicely, slowly expanding into a city. Around it, smaller and larger villages also flourished, scattered in various places.

One fine day, a mountain arrived at the border of one of the villages: it came on its way thumping along on its cumbersome foothills, from who knows where, then jolted and grew to the ground. All this initiated an earthquake and thunderstorm: stones rolled downward, rain poured, lightnings flashed, thunderstones poured down on the houses, and beat in even the roofs of many of them. When the sky cleared, people of the village came out and were amazed to see a huge mountain rising toward the sky at the border of the village.

The old wise man from the village kept on saying that the mountain had fallen from magical, heavenly powers, straight from the sky, accompanied by a storm.

"Then what did cause the earth to shake even when the mountain was not even here?"

"It was caused by giants coming across the plain to watch the mountain fall from the sky, and their footsteps shook the earth!" The wise old man insisted on it stubbornly.

The villagers hardly believed it. In any case, from then on, the mountain rose on the boundary of the village.

"Perhaps, it will leave here, or it will walk away, for this region is boring for mountains!" They kept saying to each other, hopefully.

Namely, the mountain was somehow unpleasant for everyone: the sight of it disturbed the gaze accustomed to the plain. It would have run through open spaces in vain, because the gaze got stuck in the mountain. The eye could see beyond it by no ways!

Wily men found out to carry away the mountain. They set the strong, muscular young men afire, who kept digging up and shoveling the soil of the mountain. However, hard rocks, layered stone slabs, metallic ores—all sorts of mountain grounds impeded them from carrying away the mountain.

Then the old wise man declared: whoever climbs up to the peak of the mountain can see its secret from there, because the Spirit of the Mountain appeared to him in his dream, and it promised so.

The young and old of the village set off, but either they got a cramp in their legs, or if they clambered up a bit, they slipped back. It did not help that they took ropes and axes with them: the ropes were torn, and the grades cut with the axe disappeared in the moment the ambitious man's feet touched on them. If someone reached about the middle of the mountain, he did not reach the top because the mountain suddenly elongated, and its peak was shrouded in mists among the clouds at a height inaccessible to man. What else could they have done? The villagers resigned themselves to the fact that this mountain could not be climbed.

"Weave dry wreaths of fragrant grasses dried in the sun, and stand around the mountain at midnight of the full moon, and then light a wreath of fragrant grass every nine laps! Then the mountain will be reconciliated and, with the help of the heavens, will go away from us for another land!" The old wise man advised.

Well, the wreaths woven from dried fragrant grasses were made one after the other! And at midnight of the next full moon, at the foot of the mountain, at a distance of nine laps from each other, fragrant smoke rose from the fires, wreathing the cliff on the summit like a trembling veil.

However, the mountain did not move: the next morning, it towered on the border of the village just as before!

The old wise man spread his hands in perplexity.

"Not even my forefather's forefather heard anything like that! Did the fragrant smoke open the moonlight path to the full moon?" He asked.

The villagers just shook their heads silently.

Then the old wise man advised them to resign themselves to the fact that the mountain is disinclined to wander away from them, and to try to avoid it as much as possible.

But resignation is always difficult to manage for the son of man! So it happened this time, as well. Many young men tried to climb up to the cliff again – they came back to the foot of the mountain with broken arms and legs, broken into pieces. The old wise man could hardly restore them.

Then, after a while, the villagers became accustomed to the mountain and gave up the continuous siege. One day, they came to the old wise man one by one:

"The Spirit of the Mountain appeared in my dream. He said if I reach the top, he will wait there and make me rich!"

"I saw the Fairy of the Mountain in my dream. She threw colourful globes at me, glittering gold and silver, and promised that if I found the cleft in the middle of the mountain, she would lead me from there to Fairyland and would make me the richest man in the world..."

"In my dream, a hooded wanderer loomed before me. He showed me with his stick where I have to step sideways and climb up the cliff. He took me up and showed me from there that he would make me the master of the world if I walked that path even awake..."

The old wise man only shook his head at all this, warned everyone not to yield to the temptation of dreams, to the chimeras, and to the allurement.

However, there were some people who departed. Most of them perished, never to be seen again. There were some of them whose bones became the stones of the mountain. There were some persons who returned insane: they considered themselves to be the ruler of the world, a wonderful fairy girl's fiancé, or the leader of celestial beings.

The old wise man explained: whoever lives in this village is all fallible. Either with treasures, or power, or knowledge, or with the magic rope of love – in some way or other, this mountain can allure everyone, because it is inhabited by the Spirit of Reveries. The only way to escape is to ignore it!

The villagers finally took his advice, but in the meantime, fame spread about the unusual mountain: from every nook and corner, many curious people, many prideful ones, those who believed that they would reach the top, unveil the secrets, and take the treasures with them, poured to the mountain. Such foolish adventursome people kept coming until the mountain finally had enough of them. However, it did not rank off the plain, but sent dreams to people all over the world.

Dreams announced the existence of the mountain, showing where the dreamer could find it after he woke up. Furthermore, every man who only dreamt of it in the whole world, all saw it according to their own wishful thinking. The mountain shone like a mountain crystal, it glittered like a diamond, it twinkled in gold and silver, it poured out from itself magical knowledge like tiny grains of sand, it loomed as a fairy, a mischievous or powerful spirit, it was seen by some people as the Lord of the World, and after waking up, everyone consumed himself, longed for the treasure he had dreamt of, that he departed to find the mountain. Yes, but the circular fire of wreaths woven from sun-dried fragrant grasses scattered myriads of such mountains across the earth, and not everyone found the first Mountain of Reveries. However, those who arrived at any of the Mountains of Reveries that sprang from the fragrant smoke of the wreath of fire instead of the original mountain have not benefitted either. The mountains scattered with fragrant smoke were exactly the same as the first one to arrive on the rich plain on its own feet: they were all equally Mountains of Reveries. And as such, they all worked equally on the perishment of the soul, on its enslaving by desires.

As time passed, the inhabitants of the village changed; only the aged, wise man was still alive among those who had ever lived to see the arrival of the mountain. The old man might have been five hundred years old, but such old wise men no longer count the passage of time, so no one knew how old he might be. But when asked, he still knew everything.

One fine day, a wanderer arrived, who, whoever knows where from, but knew about the old wise man, and made straight for him.

"Salute, old grandfather!" He greeted the half-asleep old wise man. "Do you know that this mountain is no longer the only one that knows wishful thinking, and enslaves the soul?"

"I know," the old man woke up.

"Its brothers planted themselves throughout the earth, and they also tempt men and enslave souls. In addition, if they have already done this work in one place, they move away, they make a home in another place, where they take new victims. Can you tell us what to do?"

"Certainly, I know!" The old wise man replied. "Go up to this mountain here! For this mountain here, because you are the one it is waiting for. I always warn everyone not to yield to the enslaving spell of the mountain, but you have finally come to have order. I have seen you in my dream!"

"And how shall I go up the mountain?"

"At the next full moon, take a white, round stone, a handful of ground and flint, and steel for striking a fire with you! If you get stuck in the climb, crumble three crumbs of the stone under your feet! Stick it with three clods of earth that you have taken with you, and then strike fire with the flint and steel to light the three branches hidden there! That fire will unite the mountains, playing with temptation and enslaving the soul, you will see!"

The wanderer took a white round stone and a handful of ground, put them in his bag, the flint and steel for striking a fire beside them, and set out at full moon in the evening. The mountain opened up a narrow path for him as he got there. On it, the wanderer departed upward. A host of onlookers was waiting at the foot of the mountain to see what would happen. The wanderer had already gone well beyond the middle of the mountain when his foot got stuck in a tree branch branching into three directions. He stopped, took out the round white stone, crumbled three crumbs of it under his feet, and then dropped three clods of the handful of earth he had taken with him. The three clods even stuck the three stone crumbs. Then the wanderer struck a fire with the flint and steel and lit the tree branch, branching in three directions. As its fire flared up, it scattered sparks, some of which sparkled down the side of the mountain, others of which formed a stream of fire in the air, and the double stream of fire began to rise toward the Moon's gate. Until the double stream of fire was rising, the depths of the mountain opened up, and into it were wreathed the mountains of the globe that entrapped people with their dreams. When the last of these mountains was swallowed up by the first, the real Mountain of Reveries, the opening closed, and the mountain began to shake. It shook, rocks, pieces of earth, and stones poured down, and then the mountain shot fire, the earth shook and cracked, and the water of the sea flooded into the formerly pleasant plain. And the fire scorched the remnants of the previously flourishing plain, turning everything into a burnt-out wasteland.

Meanwhile, the moonlight path opened, and those who were not tempted by their desires, not allured by the insidious chimeras, walked up to the Moon on it. Those who were seized by their wishful thinking were destroyed by the flood of fire. Ages later, people having been departed at this time on the moonlight path returned.

And during the deluge of fire, the mountains remained for ever in the place where they were rising at that time. They could no longer wander away, and they also lost their power to allure the souls with their wishful thinking. And in the places of those that have turned into mountains of such new Mountains of Reveries, deep craters remained, and the craters are surrounded by desert all over the world. Many people today think that these could have been mountain lakes, but they still show the place of such mountains today.

The mountain, which first became the Mountain of Reveries in the language of the descendants of later ages could also no longer wander away at its own will, but it retained enough of its magic power to always find those who need to be purified in spirit at the time of the opening of the moonlight path, and these people dream of it at such time. The mountain rises into the sky in the dream, where the full moon is already shining, and exactly in the middle of the night, the silver path opens, which is woven from the moonbeams and magical spells. Whoever walks up this pathway can only look into the mirror of the Moon by entering the gate of the Moon, which only opens at this time, and thus they can be purified. At least those who are users of this charm claim so. Rumors whisper about it also in the flood of legends and times.

Then, when they wake up, they are amazed to see that the mountain has been surrounded by the desert ever since, indeed, just like the craters of other such mountains.

And what happened to the mysterious wanderer? When the fire flared up and the moonlight path opened, he departed through it. But according to the rumors, he did not return ages later; only the old wise man of the former village could be welcomed by our forefathers in the depths of time. And that was enough: the old wise man helped them not to fall victim to the Mountain of Reveries. A shrine and then a monastery were built later on the Mount of Reveries, in the hope of protecting foolish, fallible people. Shrines were erected next to the craters of the former Mountains of Reveries in the same way.

Only the old wise man knows that no external structure or power can protect us against the idle reveries or daydreams.

Written: 28 / 01. 2026, by J. W. Cassandra
Translated: 02 / 02. 2026, by J. W. Cassandra

All rights reserved. ©