Out of this world (Rave)

Out of this world (Rave)

Fire. Elemental fire. New friends are here but no pressure to talk.
Just sit. Soul warmth. Tap feet to beat of music. Mind neutral and
coast. Relaxation.

"Would you like some of these?" she says. A small sealable plastic
packet is extended. Magic mushrooms. Why not? It feels right. One by
one, I tease out ten of the small dried heads with their long stems and
chew and swallow. Time passes. Very little change - mellow, ease -
could be the wine. Ten more. Peace. Tap feet. Watch glowing wood,
flickering flames. Wait. Ten again. Close eyes and wipe mind clean.
Wondrous. Fire after-images transform to strident dramatically coloured
heavy-metal album covers, then the slate is instantly cleared and
washed over pale yellow. A cascade of intricate multi-hued grillery
covers this, tuned by music and eyelid-filtered firelight. Changes
again: fantastically complex gold fretwork, tiny panels of assorted
colours in repeated patterns fill the spaces. Grilles and mosaics
constantly replace one another. Curving shapes also. Semi-three
dimensional cascades of colours pour towards me - like
computer-generated images of passages. I recognise South American
Indian jewellery patterns. A tiny Picasso head is briefly visible in
the middle of one vista. Writhing yin-yang/Paisley patterns cavort.
Occasional stylised figures. Charles Rennie-Macintosh designs in
abundance, but more complex and extensive. Now stained glass swirls. On
and on. A new colour floods the field and sets another show going
before I realise the music has changed. The pattern reduces in size -
someone has passed between me and the fire. On and on.

Someone speaks to me. I open my eyes, stand up and talk. Totally
coherent. We converse about organic and inorganic farming. Hardly any
effect with eyes open - just relaxed. A very faint network of thin
purple lines covers people. They are outlined with faint green lines.
Barely discernible. Nothing dramatic. I close my eyes again and the
show continues when I blank my mind. Now when I open my eyes there are
faint green, red and blue dots on things - exactly like a television
screen up close. I close my eyes. It's becoming slightly more difficult
to generate pictures. Someone offers me a joint. I don't smoke so
struggle not to cough. A flood of new relaxation enters my legs. I
close my eyes. Images back at full strength.

After a while I decide to dance. Once started I don't want to stop.
Marvellous music. I close my eyes again and mind-surf on the avalanche
of colours. I feel more here and now and relaxed than I've ever felt. I
belong to the earth, and the earth belongs to me. All these people
belong here too. Prisoners in our own cells, but also together.
Everything here is right. I open my eyes and watch a lean body rock in
spasms of delight to the music. She beseeches with her arms. Draws on a
joint. So lean she's almost pure spirit, music-riding sprite. She moves
around under the barn roof. Contortions ecstasy-driven. Not the drug,
but real ecstasy at existence.

Hours pass. At first I occasionally exchange a word with my companion
dancers. Words don't serve to convey the feelings, but I want them to
know I'm aware of them and like their presence. I also know it's
unnecessary - they are already aware of it. We all know we like each
other. It isn't just the drugs. With some people you like them from
first meeting. As they are. Distinct entities. There's no need to worry
about interactions or what to say. You just exist with them. Belong.
Don't talk now for hours and stay in the flow. Everything here is right
and simple and good. This is the underlying reality - not mortgages and
cars and possessions and taxes. Raving sane. Unacquisitive love. We
cruise in Now.

Later I stand by the fire and Exist there on the warmth - just me and
the universe. I sit with the others on the straw bales. Stars overhead.
Banter. Together we wait. Dawn. A skein of geese skim overhead and out
over the empty fields. The wraith girl, our shaman, is under them and
writhes still. Perfect.