Transcribing a dream

It was a tall tree. In fact, it was the tallest in all of that ancient forest.

Sitting at its foot, he was angry from the encounter before. Not just angry, he was agitated enough that he started to chip away the tree, with the axe that appeared to him from nowhere. He very quickly had chopped away quite a bit of the trunk, leaving a bare-minimum connection from which the tall trunk kissed the tree’s bottom.

As before, it happened to him again; he heard a voice. This time the voice was asking him to stop. Few more strikes and the tall tree would have collapsed on the canopy of the forest, stretching far and wide. Before he could realise, he had stopped swinging his axe.
Who was it that asked him to stop? Was it a voice inside his head, or was it through a rumble in the skies, or was it the tree?

Nevertheless, the instructions were clear. So clear that he had to give heed to it.

“You stop it now, the tree will fall, when time is ready. It will be brought down by the resonance of a bass guitar. Quit it now and calm down.”

Although, he did not know what a guitar was, or what bass was; A warped name started flashing in his head:
|| Water || Rogers||

About Raghav/Raghu

A fortunate mass of hydrogen cloud conscious enough to be contemplating that very fact.
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