THIS IS PART ONE OF A TWO PART MINI SERIES EXPLORING DEATH
The scribbles were coming out like lightning strikes.
The lines of the sketch darting across the page in short frenetic bursts.
My adrenaline was pumping.
I was watching the drawing come to life more so than choosing its form.
I was witness to creation.
I was the sacred mother giving birth, subject to its force of nature expressing through my being.
Line by line the drawing took shape.
It looked like it was becoming a skeleton.
Yes it was a skeleton, of that I was certain now.
The party around me intruded upon my mind’s perception like an unwelcome and loud guest.
The cacophonous din of the crowd’s thoughts assaulting my own.
Was the dress I was wearing riding up too high or was that the thought of the girl shifting uncomfortably across from me?
It must be her.
I am wearing pants and a shirt.
I needed to focus my attention or I wouldn't be able to distinguish my thoughts and feelings from those around me.
“Focus,” I strained.
I was drawing, or more precisely I was being drawn through.
Was this muscle tissue that was etching itself atop the sketch of the skeleton?
Are those muscle fibers?
I had never witnessed such a deliberate and prescient artistic rendition of a human physique before, for the form of the skeleton easily disappeared under the increasing layers of muscle tissue and skin that my hand was automatically drawing.
It was as if the drawing itself knew the skin and tissue would be overlaid.
I was not in control of this process...I was subject to it as though some unseen force were compelling my entire body to contort and excrete this perfect rendition of a human body, layer by layer.
As I sketching increasing layers of complexity I was being shown information.
I was being taught secret lessons of the human body.
I was being shown where the influx of data and resources from the outside world landed and what paths it took within a human frame.
It became too intense.
There was so much information invading my stream of perception.
The drawing was a life force of its own, compelling my hand, flooding my mind.
Fearful to be caught in the torrential flow of information, too fast to process, I needed to focus on something else.
I did not know how to surrender to the information.
It had me.
I was seeing/thinking/feeling/smelling/tasting too much information.
It felt more like a raging river in which I would be caught.
I was swept downstream with such force that my once stable perceptive reality was crashing against the rocks and outcroppings of deeper truths.
I had no means of controlling the data, or steering my ship.
I was the passenger swaying violently in a dizzying hurricane of information.
As I looked up from the drawing in a desperate attempt to lay my eyes upon something soothing and comforting, something which didn’t assault my mind with more information, I galzed upon a small group of four individuals standing facing each other in a tight group at the party.
It was a normal enough scene, one that you often see at parties such as this.
The group that came together in the same car, uncomfortable to reach out beyond their comfort zone and mingle, stood facing each other in a circle looking blithely over their shoulders every once and awhile at the party going on around them.
I could see their interpersonal relationships. I could see who was in relationship with whom.
I could sense the ebb and flow of their conversation even though they were out of earshot.
I knew they were talking about someone here at the party because I could see the energy of their collective reaching out towards the left.
The colours whisping off them in fractal patterns of increasing and decreasing complexity, reaching ever onwards towards the object of their shared thoughts.
Then, their eyes would blindly follow the direction of the trails of colour and energy.
They each took turns, the less sensitive of them gazing obviously.
I could see/feel the insecurity the alpha female of their little pack had in regards to the guy they were referencing.
They collectively felt uncomfortable and uncertain all of a sudden.
This is when they they subconsciously knew they were being observed themselves.
They were going to look at me.
They all turned at once and looked at me quizzically.
Did I cause them to look at me or did I sense they were going to look at me?
This question has haunted me ever since.
Did I cause them to look at me or was I pre-cognitively sensing they would?
I have had so many similar experiences since this one.
“Do ye not know that ye are gods?”
I could hear the echo from ages past and wondered just how powerful a creature I might be.
Their gazes were searching mine.
I was a ravenous reading machine.
They were open books.
I could see each of their histories.
I could see who parents were abusive, whos were supportive, I could see their genetic similarity and why they were comfortable with each other.
I was staring unconcerned with their discomfort as though I were an innocent small child taking everything in.
“Why is he staring at us?” she thought.
“Why is he staring at us?” her friend said out loud echoing the alpha’s thought.
I saw the thought transfer!
I looked back to my drawing embarrassed with my nakedness.
What if everyone could see as much about me as i could about them?
Where could I put my attention where I would not be inundated with so much information.
It seemed to be increasing in speed and profundity.
This was not going to be an easy night.
The party was a typical high school party.
As a squad of people we had broken into an elementary school on the outskirts of town.
The party was in the playground. How fitting.
The teenagers were drinking, smoking, and socializing on the playground where they played as kids.
I had taken entirely too many hits of acid. It was my first time.
I had taken entirely too many hits of acid ALONE for my first time.
I am not even certain it was strictly LSD given the fact that at the end of this night I would find myself on a hospital bed in the emergency room, heart flatlining in front of a despondent mother concerned for her child.
The night wore on in a blur of colour, profound insight, existential terror, and cognitive destruction.
I was a solo cosmonaut exploring a hostile new world by myself.
It was a world full and alive with information that threatened every safe and comfortable belief i had built my life on.
I had no idea how to process it.
I was alone, victim to an ever increasing sensory data experience, struggling to build a superhighway of information where once there were only dirt backroads.
As the adventure progressed I became increasingly more and more isolated, scared, and overwhelmed.
The party was ending and I was peaking.
My ride had disappeared.
So did my foundational reality.
Everything was temporary and see through and I realized that I didn't have any REAL friends there who genuinely cared.
I was lucky to have a ride home.
I was dropped off at home by “friends” who taunted and teased me the whole ride, inducing fear and panic.
They were my tormentors in an eternal drama that for the first time I could see clearly.
In my haste to attend the party I had neglected to bring along my keys, so I had to knock in the middle of the night and wake my mom up.
As she stood there in her nightgown wondering what I was doing home so late, I mumbled that I was drunk and that i’m sorry.
I shuffled my way past her, not waiting for a response, to my room as the world melted around me.
Of course I could not sleep.
The television was a tool of mind control and wickedness that I could see clearly for the first time.
It was as if the entire world was a large stage play devised to mesmerize and ensnare and I was now made aware of the script, the staging, the theatre, and all that goes into staging a play.
I was broken free from the matrix and marveled in terror at its monstrous machinations and all pervading reach.
I was alone in terror like Neo waking up from the Matrix, a movie that would not come out for years, except I had no Morpheus to catch me.
I had absolutely no reference for what I was experiencing except madness.
This is what happened to crazy people, right?
When my mom came into the room due to my pacing she asked what was wrong, why was I still up?
I turned to her with genuine terror and said, “I took 9 hits of LSD. I don’t think it will end, and I think i’m going to be crazy for the rest of my life.”
To be continued in episode 3…..
Stay Tuned for episode 3 wherein we explore egoic death, physical death, and the struggle and freedom of consciously rebuilding a self.