My mind dissolved into a tumbling, whirling, liquid thing completely separate from me. I had no control. My sense of my surroundings was faded, untrustworthy. All I could really register was the colours – reds, oranges, yellows, pinks, and gold. The Christmas lights snaking along the floor. The dried flowers braided into Pashea’s hair. The sense of being stuck in a 70’s party, with only two people. I felt the need for a black presence – it would fit right into the night’s colour scheme, I thought.
Playing with dried flower petals in my mouth made me think of sunny summer days. Dried flower petals, when eaten slowly, are the taste of a lazy summer day, spent lying on green grass.
I was so tactile. I was amazed at what my body could do, the way it could move so effortlessly. Between my almost liquid body and liquefied mind, I wondered why I ever needed anything else to entertain myself. My bare feet were ice cold but it felt so good. It was something I could feel. That’s all that mattered. Feeling was feeling, and none of it was bad. Being bare foot also made me feel like a forest imp, agile and quick.
I thought of dropping a glass to watch it shatter. Then I thought I’d end up stepping on it, and wondered what that would feel like. The thought of pain perplexed me – I thought that if the idea of pain could simply be overcome, it would feel amazing. I thought of cutting my palm, and came oh so close, my friend, Pashea, along with a small voice at the back of my head being the only thing that stopped me. The voice said, It just might hurt – and then what? Then you have to deal with the pain. What about if it never stops hurting, and you can’t get past the pain, then you’ll pay. So I never did, even though I wanted to see the small drops of scarlet blood. Don’t get me wrong, it was nothing suicidal, it wasn’t because I hated the world and hated myself, but quite the opposite. It was because I had so much utter faith in the world that nothing could have been the wrong thing to do. And as for myself, I had more or less forgotten I even existed. I mean, I knew that I did, but not in the normal sense of the word. I couldn’t make the connection between myself and the rest of reality. Nothing really existed, except the Universe – it was endless and all encompassing.
Thoughts raced through my head faster then I could register them. They whipped past, they tumbled into each other, they flowed, like water, like waves. They flickered like the flames in the fake electric fireplace. I, in an effort to express these thoughts, rattled on in a mostly incomprehensible way, not making much sense as one thought melted into another. I couldn’t keep up.
Pashea and I talked of a bullet being fired but instead of completing a circuit around the world (saying it didn’t hit anything) and ending up in the same place, it would pass through the different worlds, the different dimensions. These worlds were layered one on top of another, two-dimensional, like paper, and the bullet travelled through them forever. That’s how my mind saw it anyway.
We thought about living outside of time and how much better that would be. There would be no pressure – you could live in one single, moment for an eternity, and never run out of time, because time wouldn’t be able to touch you, and you wouldn’t be able to touch time. We talked about staying in our present moment forever, and how neither of us would mind. It didn’t matter if the world continued to flash past at the insane pace it was going, or if it crumbled into ash and dust and blew away into oblivion – we were totally content in the moment.
We wondered if something could spin so fast it would disintegrate and spin right out of existence.
I could completely relate to little kids because I felt like a little kid myself. Everything they did made prefect sense, and I marvelled at how kids were made to sound like the ones who didn’t know anything, when really they had all the right ideas. A five year olds logic made perfect sense, and I thought it horrible that everyone was made to abandon that wisdom so young.
Throughout all this, we smoked ganja, sweet ganja babe.
What exactly have I experienced? Was it an introduction to insanity? Or was it simply a tour into the abyss of my mind with a mushroom for a tour guide?