My limbs were shaking uncontrollably; my gait was ever erratic; I stealthily departed from the group of my peers. We had all consumed the newly popular “magic mushrooms” together. My very soul was penetrated with questions of how my friends could still move, converse and interact so unflappably with each other. I had become animalistic as if I had transformed into a lone wolf; I felt a capriciously inexorable urge to howl to the moon. The brown of my eyes had completely vanished, conquered by fully dilated pupils. My brain’s optometric extension had now been replaced by the deepest, darkest holes capable of seeing all of the concealed mysteries withheld in remotest of hiding places in the universe. A note of denial that the mushrooms were functioning properly would be just that, denial. I was in an entirely separate reality; the proverbial trip was underway.
Sunlight’s reflection on the scenery shimmered like the restroom in a Mr. Clean advertisement. To quantify it in numerical terms, I would have to say everything looked fifteen to twenty percent deeper and more naturalistically beautiful than it had in the morning. My retina’s scanned the landscape for a spot appropriate for a certain composing of myself and I set off airily towards my new habitat. Grasses, small shrubs and dazzling wild flowers grew in every place where they could find a crack in the stone. The terrain was made up of rocks with, to the naked eye, every shape, size and multi-colored hue. Sedimentary minerals compiled down south of vast glacier deposits of indefatigable freezes persisting for thousands of years. I was intrigued by their restrained, stoic presence. The rocky shore of an unnamed lake stretched approximately three quarters of a mile in until intersecting the tree line. The towering alpine’s stood staunchly like Green Beret daring me to pass them by and enter their heavily protected interior wooded areas. Stumbling inebriated from crag to promontory with all the grace of a newly delivered foal I stopped to crouch lightly, adjacent to a tiny cedar. This modicum of asylum sheltered me from the wind and I was comforted by the tenacity of minuscule creation of God’s green earth. Skeletons of his ancestral consanguine lay sprawled out surrounding us on all sides, but we decided not to discuss his ineluctable fate. This seemed to be a fine spot to make camp in my highly deluded mind so I slouched on the ground and attempted to steady my breathing. The waves and wind sounded like a euphonious symphony ringing exquisitely in my head, a harmonious combination of the elements. The utter profundity of the Northern landscape in all of its prodigious beauty set my senses furiously but wonderfully on fire. Psychedelics filling my cranial capacity had caused the textures and colors of the stones to flow and ebb like shadows dancing transversely over my eyes. My hands ran roughly along the blemished crags of the limestone, feeling even the tiniest groove, amazed at the intricacies of the detail. Directly under me, ants crawled in fantastically strange patterns, conducting their business with a militant intensity. The sheer act of observing their complex movements began to perturb me and I felt inundated with a fear of consumption at the hands of this colony of tiny, mindless insects. I desperately needed to take heed of my instinctive admonitions and looked frenetically to flee.
The physicality of my vessel began to feel overwhelmingly enervated, the type of debility that you feel in the marrow of every bone. I glanced sharply to my right and spotted a complanate rock that resembled poured concrete. Centurial scars adorned its cinereal surface, antiquated memories of a shifting world. I lay myself abaft and felt the cumbrous weighing of the gravity force my flesh onto the frigid surface. Regardless of effort, my attempts to stand up would be to no avail; I summarily pondered if my internal mechanisms were failing once and for all. I had read somewhere