1/23/2021 -
I don’t know what on earth initiates this but I find myself in an intense dream state. I’m hanging out with these what I’m guessing are other surrealist plane shifting musician dudes and I make the decision that we’re going to straight up fucking party. We take mushrooms and I have a plan. There’s what I would best describe as an immersive psychedelic art exhibit enclosure space that’s in this art gallery a bit south of where we’re at. I’m convinced that if we’re tripping, we have to hit this thing up, whatever it is.
As I’m pondering this potentiality we’re like warped there by the power of thought and it doesn’t disappoint. We’ve entered such on odd sub reality of consciousness I’m truly at a loss to explain it but of course I’ll try. Isn’t that sort of what I do? I’m in this art hall and there’s a balcony above me with people looking down, but it’s truly like I’m in a living cartoon. There are multi-colored neon phantasmal ghosts sifting through the image space and I can feel them as they pass through the walls and back again. The walls mean nothing to them. They’re like paper thin color charged Pac-Man ghosts and I can feel them. They feel like inner stinging ecstasy. They warn of a monster who lurks behind the walls, but I can tell all it’d do is beam radiating pleasure into my spirit’s core, infinitely. I know these things but even now that I am in another universe. I am not inhabiting a body but rather one with psionic electrical occult anime vibrations.
Then we’re warped back into the place where we took the drugs in the first place, astonished. We’re kind of wandering around wondering what to do next and I want to go back again. This other almost metal veined drug rocker dude doesn’t know what the play is exactly. He’s conflicted. I tell him we’re going back later, remember? And with that I see that he’s sucked into this translucent electrical vortex, which is an outward projection of his temporarily warped energetic super structure.
“See? You’re outside of time now.”
I tell him.
“Remember how we go back to that art space later?”
I now see time space perception warp around him for a second and he does remember.
“That’s later today.”
I inform him, and he’s baffled as to how he’s remembering the future. I’m not even sure if it is the future he’s remembering or I’m just manipulating him in his heightened energetic state via the power of suggestion. I just want to circle back to the goddamn living cartoon tunnel thing. I want to chat with the monster. I don’t find out if we ever get back there, but we take more drugs and I’m not even entirely sure which ones.
Now I’m completely distant, wandering around outside as one of my other cosmically fading compatriots trots up to me, leans in slouching, puts his hands on my shoulder and delivers one of the best lines conceivable given the situation.
“You know, we really didn’t need to take all these drugs…but we did, and it’s awesome! Soooo…..”
With that we exchange a brief knowing eye to eye glance. I put my hand on his shoulder and agree. We’re dreaming. I didn’t actually take any drugs, did I? Yet the feeling persists. It wasn’t ever the drugs in the first place, was it? The drugs were simply turning us on to the untapped madness that was always already there. On another note, the drugs can in fact be exceptionally fucking fun. Also relevant.
Anywho, from there it got even funnier as I was just stumbling the fuck around in broad daylight in some waterfront park when I accidentally wander into this tiger enclosure. Even I find this comical, like seriously? That’s the metaphor you’re going with here? Assholes. Even though I’m nowhere near the thing I’m pretty embarrassed by my bumbling jackassery and promptly flee the enclosure.
Now I’m standing on top of this rock overlooking an urban beachfront and have the supremely unreal experience of coming down from and MDMA trip in a dream state. It’s been so long since I’ve rolled in the flesh but there it was in astral form; an astounding approximation of the exact, supposedly physical mind drag sensation.
“Wow, I’d sort of forgotten about that.”
I think to myself as I fall off a serotonin rush pleasure cliff. God, I’ve gotta smoke more weed, stat. And with that I race off to seek bowl after endless comedown easing bowl in astral adjacent back alleys and scumbag glam atrium patio spaces. I pull out of the breach, lying in bed in a waking state, basking in the luminous glow of hypnotically induced reverberating liminal state narcotic bliss. Let it roll baby roll.
if you can't remember the future you've gone senile, that's what i always say .