Dragon Spine – Node Three Lak Lake – When the Naga Remembered Her Name

We arrived at Lak Lake in the middle of the afternoon, descending from the red volcanic plateau of the Central Highlands until the wide lake appeared quietly beneath a soft sky. At first the water seemed almost colourless — a calm grey mirror lying between the hills.

After settling in we wandered through the small lakeside town before eventually sitting down at a simple restaurant overlooking the water. It was there, while eating fish from the lake and fresh spring rolls, that something unusual began to stir.

For a couple of days I had felt slightly unsettled. Ever since a naga presence had appeared to me unexpectedly in an inner vision, my mind had felt strangely restless. Sitting beside the lake that afternoon, the sensation returned — stronger now, forming impressions that felt almost like a voice emerging through feeling rather than words.

As I spoke aloud the fragments that were arriving, Anna suddenly became emotional. The presence carried a deep sadness. It said the people had forgotten its name. Once it had been honoured as the living spirit of the lake itself, but over time that reverence had faded as devotion shifted toward temples of brick and stone.

The naga wanted me to remember its name.

At first this seemed impossible. Then a word kept repeating in my mind. LakLak.

Anna smiled immediately. “But that’s the name of the lake.”

Of course. Lak Lake. LakLak. The name of the lake itself was the name of the naga who lived beneath it.

Later, standing at the water’s edge as the evening sky opened into bands of silver and gold across the lake, I sang the name LakLak across the water. The song came spontaneously, rising from somewhere ancient and familiar at the same time, as though the lake itself were remembering.

The next morning we returned to the shore carrying one of the small pieces of jewellery I had brought from Australia to leave at sacred places along the journey. Standing beside the water we offered the token to the naga, acknowledging her sovereignty and guardianship of the lake.

As we sat quietly afterwards, another image began to unfold. In remembering her name, LakLak was remembering something else. In my inner vision I saw her moving through a vast jade-coloured palace beneath the lake, searching the lakebed. There she found a hidden cache of eggs resting in her underwater sanctuary. Moving slowly among them, she paused beside one egg and touched it gently with her nose.

The sphere suddenly illuminated with emerald, blue and silver light.

The egg did not crack open, instead, it began to pulse. The rhythm of that pulse travelled outward through the lakebed and into the surrounding earth, through the water and upward into the subtle layers above — like a signal moving through the living grid of the planet.

LakLak explained that this egg would not hatch for a thousand years. The being within it would remain inside, pulsing a single harmonic tone through the waters and the earth — the grounding note for a new song of the world. Time, she said, meant very little to beings like her. The eggs had been placed beneath the lake long ago when the planetary grids were first laid down, waiting for the moment when the new song would begin.

By remembering her name, LakLak had remembered her purpose — and rediscovered the presence of the unborn child who would carry that song.

Beneath the quiet waters of Lak Lake, the first pulse of the unborn song had begun.