IcarusRisen
Bluelighter
Wonder when I'll be able to fall asleep.... wonder when I'll be able to fall asleep.... wonder when I'll be able to fall asleep.... wonder when I'll be able to fall asleep.... wonder when I'll be able to fall asleep.... wonder when I'll be able to fall asleep.... wonder when I'll be able to fall asleep.... wonder when I'll be able to fall asleep.... wonder when I'll be able to fall asleep.... wonder when I'll be able to fall asleep.... wonder when I'll be able to fall asleep.... wonder when I'll be able to fall asleep.... wonder when I'll be able to fall asleep.... wonder when I'll be able to fall asleep.... wonder when I'll be able to fall asleep.... wonder when I'll be able to fall asleep.... wonder when I'll be able to fall asleep.... wonder when I'll be able to fall asleep.... wonder when I'll be able to fall asleep.... wonder when I'll be able to fall asleep.... wonder when I'll be able to fall asleep.... wonder when I'll be able to fall asleep.... wonder when I'll be able to fall asleep....
And yet suddenly I awaken.
The ceiling fan has swirling.... Swirling.... Swirling.... images and sounds and digits of white... As I stare upward. Oh my god, what happened? I look at the clock.... Clock...., it's 6am, light is beginning to leak into the room. Yaaaaawn.... Yawn? Yawn! Yawn.... Where am I again? Yes. Who am I again? Yes. What is my relationship to the world and society and my friends and my family and the world and my life and my friends? Yes. No? Maybe yes. The Ceiling Fan has swirling pixels of the number four in reds and whites and blacks of reds and blacks and whites...
Oh dear, I know now what has happened. I remember the gel capsules of 4-aco-dmt ---- psylaceeetin. I remember taking one - 30 mg, carefully measured, always carefully measured, so carefully, so no mistakes occur... oh no, musn't let harm come to my dear dear friends....... But then when I make the second capsule of 30 mg to hand to my friend... oh no, what is it that I do? I swallow it too. Did I do that on accident? I remember I no thinking? think that I do and did on accident. Could it have been on purpose? No, accident.
Later, I remember, I take 20 more mg because I think what I have taken isn't working, they will all be angry, but they would do the same in my situation.... I think? but now, I look at everyone around me sharply and they look at me sharply, my eyes open wide, what have I done?! But all these thoughts just swirl, swirl, swirling.... in the background of my foreground thoughts as I stare at the fan and wonder if I am making it. I am. I stand up. Oof! (oof?! oof.) I sit back down as I take my first steps and say my first word. The lights are off, there is no sound, and the lights are off, we're all asleep, but not me not anymore. Was I asleep? I don't think I slept, only wondered when I will fall asleep...
I take a few more steps. It's a door, Door! Walls, I remember that walls exist, beyond the fan and the ceilingnumberfourcolors. I open the door. Oof! I stumble, I stumble a lot, I'm always in danger of blacking out, I'm well trained now, I stand with my feet apart , head down, hands to the wall, feeling a bit orange, no that's the wall color, my head shakes back and forth as I struggle to remain consciousness, what little consciousness I've regained from My Awakening.
Shatter. Explosion. What am... Gregiookormal. Normal, formal. Nooooormal, I don't feel normal, Oh I do not. The orange wall has stopped flashing violent colors at me and I stand up, from my coloring out, and head to the hallway bathroom, oh yes, the bathroom, I remember sitting in the bathroom. Lights on, door closed, my head hanging low between my knees. What would it feel like to bite my knees? I bite my knees, hey, knees is a funny word... It doesn't feel like much of anything, actually, but since even not much of anything feels pretty damned good when everything is feeling pretty damned good, oh, let me tell you, biting my knees was feeling great, and wait aren't I hear to go to the bathroom? Maybe I should stop biting my knees. I finish, I put on a brave face, and head out to the hallway. I'm doing ok guys, don't worry about me. You guys just get some sleep, you're tired.
A mirror awaits me when I turn on the light and oh I can't even stand to look at myself but I really need to use the bathroom, I stand feet apart like an angry gorilla and go to the bathroom, dreading passing the mirror on my way out, I hate myself and my self destructive tendencies and my morose almost emo desire that I didn't exist because no one is ever fair to me and oh I'm so fucking deep I should just go on forever, I'm sure all of you really give a hot running damn what I'm saying because I'm so fucking great.
But purple zero mirror door opens because my mauled hand wills it, thinking swirling, What am I think.... Shatter, normal, digit four, explosion, orange, Oh my god, you know, I think I might feel a little strange right now... Like shatttttteeerr puuuuurple explosion I am just learning to speak again, and I've got that funny feeling you get when words don't sound or look like they're spelled right, or should exist like little littttlleeee... I am so thirsty, So thiiiirrsty... Thirsty? Thirsty! Explosion, apple, shatter. I glance back into the room where I Awoke and I realize that the ceiling fan is no longer number foured as much in black and white and red and that this room had BEEN MY UNIVERSE. DO YOU UNDERSTAND?! It was black, and the covers over my head stuffled... STUFFLED?! Stuffled! (Did I just make up that word? I can't even tell, I really can't, because no word sounds right to me) and warmed me as my Universe of the Black Fan swirled but then light began to leak through my window and I Awoke to dreaming of sleeping and then all else came after.
Phone stumble stuffle, to the oouuuutside where my cigarettes that people call death stick coffins my mouth is like and ashtray right now but PEOPLE ARE IDIOTS and DON'T CALL THEM THAT and I need water but I must feed myself a cigarette. ADDICTION. first. I step outside and oh there's the fucking round black GRILL we use as an ashtray because we're too lazy to empty one, but we're compulsively clean and don't smoke in the house because we're walking around trying to be clean but not and responsible but not and be big all grown up adults now and wanting to be loved and wanted and oh god my girlfriend is my ex-girlfriend now and her dogs mauled my hand the next week but they're good dogs, right, and oh god it hurt so bad and I bled into the carpet and the towel and I stared at my hand in the sink in disbelief as my ex rushed me to the 24 hours immediate care center because it's cheaper and faster than the ER, my friends in the car behind us, but none of the immediate care centers are fucking 24 hours fucking open anymore because FUCKING IS A FUNNY WORD fuCKing... the poor people people they opened the centers for are TOO FUCKING STUPID TO USE THEM, so the immediate care centers closed down their hours to 8 hour days and now I go to the emergency room, my blood has soaked into my pants through four layers of towels, but I grin and bear it and say little about the pain or dizziness and distress that I feel about my poor left hand, I do love this hand, I do, although I'm a righty and I'm ok with that even though the majority of people are rightys and righty is a funny word, but I keep quiet about my pain and I smile to the girl, no, woman, next to me who I deeply love and who loves me in return but we are now apart because life is unfair, or so unfair, it's so cliched but it's so true and we all cry, but we all persevere, and no one knows why, but everyone does it, and we do it to each other, and I sleep alone at night in my Ceiling Fan Universe room where I sleep alone and oh my god I'm so lonely I'm so lonely and I sit in bed alone at night and try to sleep and I try not to think about how I'm alone and no one loved me and I'm so alone, I was alone for years and I reached out over and over and over and over and over and I never shed a tear to my alcoholic mom when I was homeless and scared with her, and we drove around in a car with her black asshole boyfriend who I was always so careful to speak nicely of and my goodness look at me, I'm five years old and oh so tolerant of those who are different from me and I bravely never shed a tear to my mother because she cries at night because she's so lonely and she's SO LONELY but she has me, her little boy, and I'm her whole life and that's an awful lot to live up to and I'm just five years old, I've been in existence for FIVE FUCKING YEARS, I didn't exist before that, I just existed now. Every day I reexist and wake up to this nightmare where I'm alone and I'm so lonely and no one ever loved me and now I'm ruined on the inside to all the love that the people around me give me and I just want to be five years old again, but I remember the tender moments before I woke up to true human consciousness and a SHATTER EXPLOSION of pain that never stopped, and buffeted me like a raging torrent of human misery all around me and I stood up to it like an old tree in a hurricane even though I'm just five years old, poor five year old me, you loved the world and the world HATED that. There's nothing the world cannot stand more than to be reminded of what they were like as children, and now you will join them.
But all of that was just a flash of a thought, less than a second, less than a milisecond as I stared at the blaaaaack grilllllll as my mind slowly swirled.... Swirled?!..... into consciousness, like a toilet flushing in reverse, and I decide not to have that cigarette because I hate the habit so much but I love it so much because THAT'S WHAT ADDICTION IS and I think my life has spiraled out of control, but no, it was always spiraling in that swiiiirling human vortex of misery, but my eyes were closed and I didn't realize it and now the nice doctors give me pills that make the pain much better but no one around me will LET. ME. JUST. FUCKING. DIE. ALREADY. because they love me and they want me to stay because I guess there's still some little shred of the beautiful painting that I was when I sprang forth all those years ago (but it was now, nooooow). But their love is a desire, I know, I've known for a long time now, to keep me here selfishly, despite my burning tormet in this hellish pit of misery we live in and I'm in the fucking upper eschelons of humanity and how the hell do the rest of them put up with it?!
I don't know and the rest of you know you feel the same goddamned way I do but no one will stand up and JUST FUCKING SAY IT. We're all just going to grin and bear it and pretend to be adults when we're all still just scared little children in a Dark Ceiling Fan Universe of numbers and colors and digits and words that flood back to me in waves and I try to assimilate them all as quickly as my battered faculties allow me to. But I Awoke. I'm here. I'm here.
No cigarette for me as I stare at the blllllllllack grilllll and open the doooooooor and words, jumbled and whole and spelled frontwards and backwards peel through my head like a nascar race, because it goes in circles too because I Don't Feel Nooooooormal, right now. And I sit down and I must spill all of this out to you because I Awoke and my love wakes up from the room next to mine where she lives now and asked me how I am and I Don't Feel Nooooooormal, right now. I laaaaaaauuughhh, all of these words are so funny to me because they all seem spelled wrong or said wrong or made wrong, or SOMETHING IS WRONG WITH THESE WORDS, but there's not, it's all me, and I know this, but the feeling persists. Hah! Oof?! Oof!
And tomorrow is dawning behind me right now, but I'm going to return to my Dark Ceiling Fan Universe that just isn't really dark enough, you know? I think I'll put up those blackout curtains I have tomorrow. I just can't sleep unless it's so dark that I can hear the darkness and feel it, it bleeds into my other senses, but right now everything has bled into my other senses. I have smelled the number four; have you?
When I AWAKE again tomorrow, I will show this to the girl/woman that I love and be proud but slightly embarassed because I'm a mess but damn it I make messes look good. She'll read it quietly and she'll shrug her shoulders noncommitally and deep down it hurts her that her exboyfriend that she still loves is hurting, and now we both hurt. She won't say much and she'll walk away, and so will I. She'll go lay down in her room with her two dogs that mauled my hand last week but I stayed strong so she wouldn't hurt anymore and I'll go lay down in my dark room with the swirling number four ceiling fan and maybe we'll meet while we sleep, that would be nice. But probably not; life doesn't work that way.
substancecode_4acodmt
And yet suddenly I awaken.
The ceiling fan has swirling.... Swirling.... Swirling.... images and sounds and digits of white... As I stare upward. Oh my god, what happened? I look at the clock.... Clock...., it's 6am, light is beginning to leak into the room. Yaaaaawn.... Yawn? Yawn! Yawn.... Where am I again? Yes. Who am I again? Yes. What is my relationship to the world and society and my friends and my family and the world and my life and my friends? Yes. No? Maybe yes. The Ceiling Fan has swirling pixels of the number four in reds and whites and blacks of reds and blacks and whites...
Oh dear, I know now what has happened. I remember the gel capsules of 4-aco-dmt ---- psylaceeetin. I remember taking one - 30 mg, carefully measured, always carefully measured, so carefully, so no mistakes occur... oh no, musn't let harm come to my dear dear friends....... But then when I make the second capsule of 30 mg to hand to my friend... oh no, what is it that I do? I swallow it too. Did I do that on accident? I remember I no thinking? think that I do and did on accident. Could it have been on purpose? No, accident.
Later, I remember, I take 20 more mg because I think what I have taken isn't working, they will all be angry, but they would do the same in my situation.... I think? but now, I look at everyone around me sharply and they look at me sharply, my eyes open wide, what have I done?! But all these thoughts just swirl, swirl, swirling.... in the background of my foreground thoughts as I stare at the fan and wonder if I am making it. I am. I stand up. Oof! (oof?! oof.) I sit back down as I take my first steps and say my first word. The lights are off, there is no sound, and the lights are off, we're all asleep, but not me not anymore. Was I asleep? I don't think I slept, only wondered when I will fall asleep...
I take a few more steps. It's a door, Door! Walls, I remember that walls exist, beyond the fan and the ceilingnumberfourcolors. I open the door. Oof! I stumble, I stumble a lot, I'm always in danger of blacking out, I'm well trained now, I stand with my feet apart , head down, hands to the wall, feeling a bit orange, no that's the wall color, my head shakes back and forth as I struggle to remain consciousness, what little consciousness I've regained from My Awakening.
Shatter. Explosion. What am... Gregiookormal. Normal, formal. Nooooormal, I don't feel normal, Oh I do not. The orange wall has stopped flashing violent colors at me and I stand up, from my coloring out, and head to the hallway bathroom, oh yes, the bathroom, I remember sitting in the bathroom. Lights on, door closed, my head hanging low between my knees. What would it feel like to bite my knees? I bite my knees, hey, knees is a funny word... It doesn't feel like much of anything, actually, but since even not much of anything feels pretty damned good when everything is feeling pretty damned good, oh, let me tell you, biting my knees was feeling great, and wait aren't I hear to go to the bathroom? Maybe I should stop biting my knees. I finish, I put on a brave face, and head out to the hallway. I'm doing ok guys, don't worry about me. You guys just get some sleep, you're tired.
A mirror awaits me when I turn on the light and oh I can't even stand to look at myself but I really need to use the bathroom, I stand feet apart like an angry gorilla and go to the bathroom, dreading passing the mirror on my way out, I hate myself and my self destructive tendencies and my morose almost emo desire that I didn't exist because no one is ever fair to me and oh I'm so fucking deep I should just go on forever, I'm sure all of you really give a hot running damn what I'm saying because I'm so fucking great.
But purple zero mirror door opens because my mauled hand wills it, thinking swirling, What am I think.... Shatter, normal, digit four, explosion, orange, Oh my god, you know, I think I might feel a little strange right now... Like shatttttteeerr puuuuurple explosion I am just learning to speak again, and I've got that funny feeling you get when words don't sound or look like they're spelled right, or should exist like little littttlleeee... I am so thirsty, So thiiiirrsty... Thirsty? Thirsty! Explosion, apple, shatter. I glance back into the room where I Awoke and I realize that the ceiling fan is no longer number foured as much in black and white and red and that this room had BEEN MY UNIVERSE. DO YOU UNDERSTAND?! It was black, and the covers over my head stuffled... STUFFLED?! Stuffled! (Did I just make up that word? I can't even tell, I really can't, because no word sounds right to me) and warmed me as my Universe of the Black Fan swirled but then light began to leak through my window and I Awoke to dreaming of sleeping and then all else came after.
Phone stumble stuffle, to the oouuuutside where my cigarettes that people call death stick coffins my mouth is like and ashtray right now but PEOPLE ARE IDIOTS and DON'T CALL THEM THAT and I need water but I must feed myself a cigarette. ADDICTION. first. I step outside and oh there's the fucking round black GRILL we use as an ashtray because we're too lazy to empty one, but we're compulsively clean and don't smoke in the house because we're walking around trying to be clean but not and responsible but not and be big all grown up adults now and wanting to be loved and wanted and oh god my girlfriend is my ex-girlfriend now and her dogs mauled my hand the next week but they're good dogs, right, and oh god it hurt so bad and I bled into the carpet and the towel and I stared at my hand in the sink in disbelief as my ex rushed me to the 24 hours immediate care center because it's cheaper and faster than the ER, my friends in the car behind us, but none of the immediate care centers are fucking 24 hours fucking open anymore because FUCKING IS A FUNNY WORD fuCKing... the poor people people they opened the centers for are TOO FUCKING STUPID TO USE THEM, so the immediate care centers closed down their hours to 8 hour days and now I go to the emergency room, my blood has soaked into my pants through four layers of towels, but I grin and bear it and say little about the pain or dizziness and distress that I feel about my poor left hand, I do love this hand, I do, although I'm a righty and I'm ok with that even though the majority of people are rightys and righty is a funny word, but I keep quiet about my pain and I smile to the girl, no, woman, next to me who I deeply love and who loves me in return but we are now apart because life is unfair, or so unfair, it's so cliched but it's so true and we all cry, but we all persevere, and no one knows why, but everyone does it, and we do it to each other, and I sleep alone at night in my Ceiling Fan Universe room where I sleep alone and oh my god I'm so lonely I'm so lonely and I sit in bed alone at night and try to sleep and I try not to think about how I'm alone and no one loved me and I'm so alone, I was alone for years and I reached out over and over and over and over and over and I never shed a tear to my alcoholic mom when I was homeless and scared with her, and we drove around in a car with her black asshole boyfriend who I was always so careful to speak nicely of and my goodness look at me, I'm five years old and oh so tolerant of those who are different from me and I bravely never shed a tear to my mother because she cries at night because she's so lonely and she's SO LONELY but she has me, her little boy, and I'm her whole life and that's an awful lot to live up to and I'm just five years old, I've been in existence for FIVE FUCKING YEARS, I didn't exist before that, I just existed now. Every day I reexist and wake up to this nightmare where I'm alone and I'm so lonely and no one ever loved me and now I'm ruined on the inside to all the love that the people around me give me and I just want to be five years old again, but I remember the tender moments before I woke up to true human consciousness and a SHATTER EXPLOSION of pain that never stopped, and buffeted me like a raging torrent of human misery all around me and I stood up to it like an old tree in a hurricane even though I'm just five years old, poor five year old me, you loved the world and the world HATED that. There's nothing the world cannot stand more than to be reminded of what they were like as children, and now you will join them.
But all of that was just a flash of a thought, less than a second, less than a milisecond as I stared at the blaaaaack grilllllll as my mind slowly swirled.... Swirled?!..... into consciousness, like a toilet flushing in reverse, and I decide not to have that cigarette because I hate the habit so much but I love it so much because THAT'S WHAT ADDICTION IS and I think my life has spiraled out of control, but no, it was always spiraling in that swiiiirling human vortex of misery, but my eyes were closed and I didn't realize it and now the nice doctors give me pills that make the pain much better but no one around me will LET. ME. JUST. FUCKING. DIE. ALREADY. because they love me and they want me to stay because I guess there's still some little shred of the beautiful painting that I was when I sprang forth all those years ago (but it was now, nooooow). But their love is a desire, I know, I've known for a long time now, to keep me here selfishly, despite my burning tormet in this hellish pit of misery we live in and I'm in the fucking upper eschelons of humanity and how the hell do the rest of them put up with it?!
I don't know and the rest of you know you feel the same goddamned way I do but no one will stand up and JUST FUCKING SAY IT. We're all just going to grin and bear it and pretend to be adults when we're all still just scared little children in a Dark Ceiling Fan Universe of numbers and colors and digits and words that flood back to me in waves and I try to assimilate them all as quickly as my battered faculties allow me to. But I Awoke. I'm here. I'm here.
No cigarette for me as I stare at the blllllllllack grilllll and open the doooooooor and words, jumbled and whole and spelled frontwards and backwards peel through my head like a nascar race, because it goes in circles too because I Don't Feel Nooooooormal, right now. And I sit down and I must spill all of this out to you because I Awoke and my love wakes up from the room next to mine where she lives now and asked me how I am and I Don't Feel Nooooooormal, right now. I laaaaaaauuughhh, all of these words are so funny to me because they all seem spelled wrong or said wrong or made wrong, or SOMETHING IS WRONG WITH THESE WORDS, but there's not, it's all me, and I know this, but the feeling persists. Hah! Oof?! Oof!
And tomorrow is dawning behind me right now, but I'm going to return to my Dark Ceiling Fan Universe that just isn't really dark enough, you know? I think I'll put up those blackout curtains I have tomorrow. I just can't sleep unless it's so dark that I can hear the darkness and feel it, it bleeds into my other senses, but right now everything has bled into my other senses. I have smelled the number four; have you?
When I AWAKE again tomorrow, I will show this to the girl/woman that I love and be proud but slightly embarassed because I'm a mess but damn it I make messes look good. She'll read it quietly and she'll shrug her shoulders noncommitally and deep down it hurts her that her exboyfriend that she still loves is hurting, and now we both hurt. She won't say much and she'll walk away, and so will I. She'll go lay down in her room with her two dogs that mauled my hand last week but I stayed strong so she wouldn't hurt anymore and I'll go lay down in my dark room with the swirling number four ceiling fan and maybe we'll meet while we sleep, that would be nice. But probably not; life doesn't work that way.
substancecode_4acodmt
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You should consider submitting it to Erowid. People might be a little snooty towards it for being written during the experience, but it's a good report that puts the reader in the middle of all the chaos.
the stream of consciousness (or sub-consciousness) nature of your report.