"Well, in general, it's about shamans, right?" Dmitry responded uncertainly.
"I'm telling you, you're in the dark. It's not about shamans. Castaneda writes about magic and power," Sergey interrupted him. "The main thing is power, and the one who hunts for it better has more of it. Usually, it's done alone, but sometimes these hunters gather together, take peyote, and meet with Mescalito. That's what mitote is. So, will you come with us?"
"Tomorrow? I might go if my parents let me."
"Just tell them you're going fishing," Sergey got up. "Let me know by the evening if you decide to come. I have to go now, there's something I need to prepare and discuss with another candidate."
"Who is that candidate?" Dmitry asked.
"Remember Fedor? You saw us together at the train station. He seemed interested. Anyway, see you."
Sergey waved his hand and walked down the street. Dmitry got up from the bench in front of the house where his family usually spent the summer and went inside the courtyard.
The rest of the day Dmitry spent browsing forums and reading fragments of Carlos Castaneda's books that he had downloaded from the internet. The topic interested him on the one hand, but on the other hand, he didn't share Sergey's enthusiasm about the upcoming mitote. In the evening, he was sitting in the kitchen, reading a book on his tablet when his father walked in.
"What are you reading?" his father asked.
"Oh, Castaneda," Dmitry replied.
"Who is that? What does he write about?"
"Carlos Castaneda, an anthropologist. He wrote several books about studying the way of life and beliefs of Indians in Mexico."
"That sounds interesting. And when did you become interested in such things?"
"Oh, no, I just started reading. By the way, Dad, can I go fishing with Sergey and spend the night there?"
"That's right, go ahead. You've been sitting at home all day like an owl."
"Can I stay the night?" Dmitry's mother peeked in from the living room, looking worried.
"Don't worry, nothing will happen to him. The morning bite is the best. Oh, how I'd like to go myself, but I have to... well, anyway."
The village where Dmitry's family lived during the summer used to be completely for summer houses. Over time, some residents started living in the village permanently. The factory to which it once belonged ceased to exist in the turbulent 90s. The current status of the village was not entirely clear, but it didn't bother anyone. People just lived how they lived, some coming for the summer, some living there permanently. Sergey was one of those whose families lived in the village permanently, or more accurately, he lived there only with his mother, and he usually didn't talk about his father. But there were rumors that he was in prison or that he was homeless and drifting somewhere. Dmitry and Sergey had been friends since childhood, but as they grew up, the obvious difference in social background began to show. Dmitry had a life in the city, went to university, and had a promising and prosperous future ahead. But with Sergey, everything was completely different. Now he could often be found at the train station with a group of guys from the village. They had recently met there, and Dmitry hadn't seen him for a couple of years.
In the evening, as Dmitry was walking to the meeting place to go to what Sergey called a "mitote," he remembered their meeting at the train station.
"Hey, Diman!" someone called out to him. Dmitry tore himself away from his smartphone, turned around, and saw a strongly-built guy in a characteristic outfit, the way thugs usually dressed. Did he not recognize him?
The facial features were vaguely familiar.
"Sergey?!" Dmitry guessed rather than recognized his acquaintance from the summer village.
"Right, are you heading to the village?"
"Yes, what are you doing here?"
"Listen, give me your smartphone, it's urgent," another guy of the same type joined Sergey.
"Get lost, he's my buddy," Sergey cut him off. The guy snorted and went back to the group sitting on a bench by the kiosk.
"We haven't seen each other in a long time..."
After reading books and forums, Dmitry could not connect Sergey's interest in Castaneda and his way of life. But he still decided to go to this "mitote" to also understand the matter. Although he already had a feeling that nothing worthwhile would come out of it. It was not far to walk, they agreed to meet outside the village on a river bank, pretending to go fishing to avoid drawing unnecessary attention, as Sergey explained. In reality, they would go into the woods where there was a good place suitable for the "mitote."
They were already waiting on the shore, Sergey was accompanied by two others, one of whom was the person who approached them when they met at the station.
"This is Fedor, he's also going on the 'mitote,'" Sergey introduced his friend.
"Yeah, Fedot - 'mitot,'" Fedor said, grinning foolishly.
"This is Andryukha," nodding at the second person. Andrey muttered something unintelligible, not changing his gloomy expression.
"Dima, nice to meet you," Dmitry said.
"Yeah, nice to meet you too," Fedor shook his head, still grinning foolishly.
"So, shall we go? We need to get to the place before it gets dark," Sergey interrupted the pleasantries.
They walked first along the shore, then when the river turned, they went deep into the forest, walking silently, each thinking about their own thoughts. For Dmitry, Fedor's appearance was an unpleasant surprise, even though Sergey had mentioned him. Dmitry walked, contemplating how to refuse and go back home. With each step, he realized that he preferred studying all this esotericism through books while lying on the couch, rather than in the woods. And, with each step, he realized that refusing now would make him seem foolish or, worse, a coward. Dmitry didn't want that, so he walked, becoming increasingly gloomy. He didn't even imagine what his companions were thinking. Sergey was focused, constantly looking around to avoid losing direction, moving only according to landmarks known only to him. Fedor's foolish grin never left his face, and Dmitry began to wonder if this guy was in his right mind. Andrey walked, still frowning.
After an hour of wandering through the forest, they emerged into an open space where a small hill with a flat top, covered in sparse trees, rose up. Sergei confidently walked towards it and began to climb up, with everyone following him. They found a convenient platform at the top, as if a part of the summit had been sliced off, creating a hollow surrounded by natural walls on three sides, and open on one side. From the open part of the platform, there was a beautiful view of the forest below the hill, with small gaps and a meandering river running off into the distance.
"Here we are, we've arrived," Sergei said with a satisfied expression.
"What is this place?" Dmitriy asked.
"A place of power," Sergei added with a significant look.
At this, Fedor burst out laughing.
"What are you laughing at, you donkey?" Sergei asked Fedor, looking displeased. "Better gather some firewood."
"I'm just...well, never mind," Fedor said, and went off to gather firewood.
"While it's not completely dark yet, we need to prepare everything," Sergei said, opening his backpack and taking out some bundles.
Dmitriy also opened his backpack and took out a package of food that his mother had prepared, a blanket, and a warm sweater that he decided to put on immediately to avoid getting cold in the evening. Andrey was also rummaging in his backpack and taking out his things. After a while, Fedor came back with a bundle of firewood, throwing it near the bonfire, and went to his backpack. Sergei began to work on the fire, quickly and deftly lighting it. He went to the foot of the hill, where there was a small spring, brought back water in a kettle, and placed it over the fire. Fedor, in the meantime, took out several bottles of vodka from his backpack.
"Why the vodka?" Dmitriy asked in surprise.
"How can we do without vodka?" Andrey suddenly smiled, uttering clear words for the first time since Dmitriy had met him.
"Well, I don't know, it's just...different," Dmitriy stammered uncertainly.
"What do you mean? It's not like we're in Mexico, we need it to keep warm," Sergei supported him.
"I don't know, have you even read Castaneda carefully?" Dmitriy asked Sergei.
"Well, more or less," Sergei replied.
"Yeah, he's read it," Fedor laughed again and added to Dmitriy, "It's Lenka who's filling his head with nonsense."
"Listen, you talk too much," Sergei turned to Fedor, irritated.
When the vodka appeared, Dmitry's mood completely dropped, he became more convinced that he had gotten involved in this "mitote" for no reason. It's not that he didn't drink, but from what he managed to read and understand, the vodka was clearly unnecessary. But even more upsetting was the mention of Lenka, their mutual friend from childhood games with Sergey. Coming for the summer after eighth grade, Dmitry even clumsily tried to court her, but she only laughed at him. Sergey, on the other hand, said that Dmitry simply had no chance, since Lenka was already hanging out with older guys. Despite this, Lenka's forms, mature beyond her years, continued to excite Dmitry's thoughts for a long time.
Meanwhile, Fyodor and Andrei had already neatly spread out the blanket, laid the tablecloth on it, and began to arrange the food and drinks. Sergey put his products with the common ones, taking only a small bundle from there and went to the bonfire. Unpacking the bundle, he began to take out some pieces and hats of dried mushrooms, throwing them into the cauldron. The guys had already spread out all the food, opened the bottle, and started pouring vodka.
"Well, as they say, let's drink, snack," Sergey said, finishing with preparations at the bonfire, sitting down at the common table. "Dima, why so gloomy, let's have some fun, everything will be fine, let's snack on some mushrooms and have some tea, or are you against it?"
"No, it's just that..." Dmitry was actually against everything, but he didn't want to look like a coward or a weakling, so he forced a smile and added, "Everything's fine, I'm not against it. I just remembered..."
"Lenka, probably?" Sergey interrupted him. "Still hung up on her?"
"No, what are you talking about, and I didn't remember her," Dmitry replied.
"I told her I saw you at the train station, she asked how you were doing, how you've changed, and said hi if I see you again. I completely forgot about it, so, hi to you," Sergey said.
"Thanks," Dmitry smiled.
"Oh, you're beaming, and you say you're not thinking about her," Sergey laughed, "Come on, she's a real babe now, she recently came back from Goa, tanned, and all that..."
"Indeed, a beauty, just what the doctor ordered," Fyodor added his two cents.
"Stop drooling and pour some more," Sergey teased him.
Fyodor just snickered and started pouring the vodka.
It was already getting dark, the clear sky was sprinkled with stars, and the vodka gave Dmitry a pleasant warmth all over his body. He had settled comfortably in his spot, placing his backpack under his back for support. The scene resembled more of a picnic or even a fishing trip, but without any fishing. He imagined that they would start discussing something from Castaneda, but the guys acted as if they just came to the woods to drink vodka. He decided to clarify this and turned to Sergey:
"So, what about it? You said myths, magic, and we're just getting drunk?"
"Everything has its time," Sergey replied with a meaningful look.
"And what, we're not even going to discuss anything about it?"
"There's no need to discuss anything," Sergey replied with the same meaningful look. Then he added with some theatrics, "Everything that needs to be said will be said, everything that needs to happen will happen when it's necessary. Trust in the Force."
"Okay," Dmitry said, although he didn't understand anything at all.
"Damn, he gets it, but I don't understand anything..." Fedor interjected again.
"Hey, is there something bothering you?" Sergey interrupted him rudely.
"Why are you picking on me all day?" Fedor grumbled suddenly.
"Don't provoke me, if you don't like it, don't come with us anymore and you can leave now," Sergey replied sharply.
The guys were speaking in raised voices, and the alcohol was starting to take its toll. Dmitry even thought for a moment that they might start fighting, as they glared at each other with such hostility. But Fedor, as usual, laughed it off and said:
"Well, I can't even say anything, everything suits me." Then he raised his glass and added, "So, to the Force!"
Andrey also supported him immediately, who hadn't said anything all evening and seemed to have missed the squabble. Sergey also drank, went back to the fire, and took the pot. He returned to his spot, sat down, leaned back on the blanket, put his head on the backpack, and started looking at the stars. Silence hung in the air, and only now did Dmitry realize how quiet it was around them. He could only hear the faint chirping of some insects in the distance. Here on the hilltop, there weren't even any mosquitoes. Maybe it really was some kind of place of power, Dmitry thought.
After a while, Sergey got up, removed the lid from the pot, and stirred with a spoon.
"Well, it seems ready, let's get cups and drink some tea," he said.
They took turns pouring the infusion into mugs, with the front one going first, and in the end, everyone held a mug in their hands. Dmitry looked into his mug; it wasn't easy to see the color of the infusion in the dark. He sniffed it; it didn't smell like much, just like herbal tea.
"And?" he looked questioningly at Sergey.
"And nothing, just drink it like tea. There will be some pieces at the bottom to chew on for a better effect."
Dmitry scooped up a teaspoon of the tea and indeed found small pieces in it, which he didn't quite understand. He felt everyone was watching him and waiting for what he would do. Dmitry shrugged, chuckled for some reason, and took a big gulp from his mug. He even liked the taste, it was unusual. The infusion had cooled down by now, so he finished the rest in one go and started chewing one of the pieces. Everyone around him began to drink the infusion as well.
"And now what?" Dmitry asked after chewing the piece.
"Now the mithota, just relax, the mushrooms will do their thing," Sergey said in a mentor tone. "Words, questions, and meanings don't matter, what's important is the experience and the feelings that you'll be able to take with you. Let the Force decide, and you relax and enjoy."
Dmitry chewed and, like Sergey, stretched out in his spot. For twenty minutes, nothing happened. Then a certain uplifted mood began to come over him. He suddenly thought, why was he so eager to leave this mithota... Such a wonderful evening, silence, beautiful stars, normal guys, everything was so good. He even felt some surge of energy, but he didn't want to move. So he lay there motionless, seemingly for a long time, because the light from the fire stopped reaching him. He realized that the firewood had burned out and they needed to add new ones, but he still didn't want to move, not even to turn his head to see what the guys were doing.
Suddenly, he heard a familiar laughter that was almost painful to him. He definitely knew who the laughter belonged to, but for some reason couldn't remember exactly who it was. With incredible effort, he turned his head towards where the laughter was coming from, but there was only a tree. Finally, he realized that it was Lenka laughing like that. He even sat up and looked to see where the laughter was coming from, but still didn't see anyone, only the tree. Suddenly, that tree turned its head with Lenka's face and started laughing at him. He began to frantically look around at the other trees, and they all had Lenka's heads and were looking at him and laughing loudly. Suddenly, one of the trees leaned to one side, pulled out its roots, leaned to the other side, and pulled out the rest. Other trees with Lenka's faces started doing the same thing, still laughing. When all the trees were freed from their roots, they, still laughing, began circling Dmitry. Gradually, the circle got smaller, and the trees started approaching him with their branches reaching out to touch him. They were still laughing, but he could now hear some words. When they circled very close to him, he realized that the trees, while laughing, were saying, "We will take you to Goa now..." The branches wrapped around Dmitry, and he sank into the merciful darkness of oblivion.
He completely lost track of time, so he didn't know how long he had been unconscious, but he woke up again from some circular movement. He opened his eyes, and it was a little brighter now. Someone had thrown some logs onto the fire, and he lifted his head. The circular movement was being created by Andrey, who was running around the fire and the place where they were sitting, completely focused. Dmitry wanted to call out to him, but he couldn't. He looked to see what the others were doing. Sergey, it seemed, hadn't changed his position, lying and looking at the stars. Fyodor was sitting cross-legged, with both hands resting on his knees, supporting his head, and looking very serious at the center of the tablecloth, where some pattern could still be seen among their untouched dinner leftovers. Dmitry looked around nervously at the trees, but they weren't showing any activity this time.
He reclined back in his spot again. After lying there for a while, he thought he felt surprisingly sober, except for the strange episode with the trees. "I should throw some more wood in the fire," he thought, and attempted to rise and move towards the fire. However, his body didn't respond as he intended, and he ended up falling face down onto the ground. Although he felt perfectly fine and comfortable, he realized that he couldn't do anything else and stopped trying. He remembered Serega's advice to relax, and so he did, eventually drifting off again.
He woke up next from the cold, still lying face down in the same position. His body was shivering, and he felt extremely cold. It was already morning, and he looked around, seeing that Serega was still lying in his spot, now with his eyes closed. Fyodor lay face down on their makeshift table, his legs still folded as if he had been sitting cross-legged. Andrei was nowhere in sight. Dmitriy got up and walked closer to the fire, hoping to warm himself up a bit, and saw Andrei's feet sticking out from the bushes. The fire had long gone out, and Dmitriy stood there, staring blankly at it, trying to figure out what to do. He knew he should bring more wood and restart the fire, but he didn't feel like doing any of that. Most of all, he just wanted to be at home in his room, in his bed, under a warm blanket. Shivering, he looked around one more time and decided to head down the hill.
He didn't even think about how he looked; all he was concerned about was the cold and the shivering that wouldn't stop. His appearance was, to put it mildly, not quite ordinary. After spending whole nights face down on damp ground and with one leg in an old campfire, he became completely two-toned. First, his face was half pale and half red on the side he lay on the ground. Second, his pants were clean on one side and entirely black from the old campfire on the other. The tousled hair, completely crazy look, and the shivering that shook him visibly added to the overall picture. However, Dmitri, who was generally neat, didn't even think about it at the moment due to the effects of the mythota. He automatically made his way back home, not even thinking about the direction, and yet he walked correctly and soon reached the village. It was early morning, no one was on the street, and he, shivering and limping slightly, made it to his house.
Meanwhile, Dmitri's father had already gotten up and was busy in the garden. A neighbor appeared over the fence, who also liked to get up early but not to dig in the ground, but more to stroll and sharpen his scythes. Seeing Dmitri's father, he went straight to the fence.
"Hi, Neighbor!" he exclaimed happily, enjoying the company "already in the garden early in the morning."
"Oh, yes... Hello" Dmitri's father was also not averse to chatting "how are things, how's your health?"
"What kind of business can a pensioner have, you can say that too" the neighbor replied with feigned indignation "and the health is not so good either. Better tell me about your affairs. The father is already in the garden, and Dmitri, therefore, is still asleep?"
"No, he went fishing."
"Fishing!? That's a good thing. Alone or with someone?"
"With Sergey, you probably know him; he lives on the second line."
"Ah, with that Sergey, you should watch out for that boy, he's wayward, just like his father. He drank his whole life, stole from the factory whatever he could get his hands on, and went to prison because of it, and now, in general, it's unclear where he is."
"Well, you can say that too. He had to go fishing with someone... But, in general, he's a serious guy, he's more into studying, reading. For example, he recently got interested in Castaneda."
"In what?"
"Cas..." he didn't finish. He froze in the middle of the word, with his mouth open, interrupted by Dmitri's appearance.
There was a silent scene as the neighbor looked equally shocked, except his mouth was closed. Dmitry appeared before them in all his "glory," still trembling and limping on one leg, which he had presumably injured. He walked along the path, agonizing over what to say since he didn't remember what he was supposed to say. So he decided to just nod, and he did, but because of the stiffness in his body, he thought the nod didn't work, so he nodded again. The stunned father and neighbor didn't react at all. He thought maybe they didn't see him nodding and nodded again... This thought repeated several times, and he just walked past them, constantly nodding until he went inside the house.
"Well," - the neighbor finally found his voice, - "looks like this 'castaneda' thing of yours is quite powerful..."
Note:
"Mitote" translates to a noisy argument, quarrel, scandal, or gossip. Originally, this word was borrowed by the Spanish from the indigenous people, for whom it meant chaos, a cacophony of voices and sounds. According to their tradition, shamans in ancient times took their apprentices to secret places where they consumed plants of power, or various psychedelics, to turn off their consciousness so that the apprentice could see that ordinary reality is just another form of dreaming. Some shamans still use this practice today, calling it "mitote."
