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Excerpt from The Patterns of Existence

PrevPreviousInterview: Greg Kihn
NextInterview: Rod ArgentNext
  • Christian Meteor
  • June 10, 2022
  • 9:31 am

Excerpt from The Patterns of Existence

Slater dumped the dried fungi in my hands. I looked carefully at them for a moment. This was it: the next level right before me. I was ready, so I chewed them up and then took down the time on my iPod: 4am.

I swallowed and my eyes grew wide. The place beneath my sternum percolated and I was fully aware that I had committed. This was the night to go deep, and I knew it was only a matter of time before the trip was going to take me.

A few minutes had passed before I knew I was on the verge of something big. I was fully immersed in a natural peace of mind and entirely ready to receive what was to come. I felt like I was in an airport waiting for my flight to the cosmic realm to take off. I could not let this feeling be lost to the psychedelic haze, though, so I tapped the keys of my iPod quickly, tracking important details and feelings I hoped to remember. Then I stopped and watched my glowing hands hover in space before another pair appeared. They were holding the top of the iPod, like a mirror image of my own. I stared at the illusion in disbelief, intrigued but joyed at the novelty.

The leaves churned and spun into complex geometric shapes and organic green kaleidoscopic images of pure bliss.

A second later, I shut my eyes and blasted off. The image of a deity with a multi-pointed triangular head appeared in a twinkling zone of deep space. His body was long and thin, covered with a flowing golden robe. I tried to speak to him but my voice sounded like helium and then my ears were overwhelmed by a robotic “zErAOwUW wUahnyao” noise that I was sure was some kind of interdimensional electronic device. I had never heard anything like it before, and I seemed to float in that space for a very short time before opening my eyes to see Slater staring down at his phone.

“How long was I gone?” I asked quickly. He looked at me with a mildly surprised expression and said, “You were sitting there for like five minutes.”

“Weird. It felt like I was in another world.”

Slater, a young white man with blond hair wearing red sun glasses a black shirt with a bright red, green, and yellow image of Bob Marley on it.

Photo of Slater by Christian Meteor

Upon entering the living room, the majesty of the day shone in. Pure rays of light filtered in through the windows onto a beige Oriental area rug detailed with rich royal blue medallions and crimson rectilinear patterns. The richly colored designs seemed to magnify up out of the rug and morph into new patterns. These were some kind of otherworldly, shamanic designs that birthed from the psilocybin experience and held some kind of special meaning.

The silence and my immersion in the rug were then broken by the majesty of a supremely fluffy cat: Angel. She meowed like the cry of a baby and padded into the room.

“Angel”, I said with the feeling of honey on my lips, waltzing over to her. She meowed again in approval and I pet her and rubbed my fingers through her soft coat of clouded gray, muted blues, and soft blondes. A silhouette formed around her fur as the light poured through it and I was sure she looked like something out of a Disney movie.

Then the happiest dog in existence entered the room: Roxy. A chocolate brown border collie, her face bright and smiling, was overjoyed to see me. Her tail wagged and I got down on my knees to embrace her. She licked my face which tickled my soul and invoked joy while I ruffled her silky coat. I hugged her and savored every second of the pure love and smiled widely as the Disney vibes grew by the second. Everything seemed to move gloopy and flopsy and slow like the interlude of music in the movie The Sword and the Stone and I experienced pure cartoon bliss.

Slater supported the vibe with love for the animals and world as well, and truly the moment would not have been nearly as special without him. What more should we do as new high school graduates than get baked on a Saturday morning, tripping on mushrooms and sipping coffee, immersed in some kind of fantastic manifestation of the Disney universe. Then the outside tempted us, so onto the front porch we went, sitting in two steel chairs looking out over our neighborhood. The spring air was fresh and cleansing on my face; the sky was hidden by the leaves of massive sycamore trees. These formed the most amazing pattern I had ever seen in my entire psychedelic exploration. The leaves churned and spun into complex geometric shapes and organic green kaleidoscopic images of pure bliss. At this moment, I was satisfied. This was exactly what I wanted. I wanted intensely spectacular visuals, and what more could be asked for than a tree of unparalleled majesty?

The richly colored designs seemed to magnify up out of the rug and morph into new patterns.

The enchanting morning played on for blissful hours until the time came for us to venture to Slater’s place of work. Despite the glorious nature of the day, Slater remained preoccupied with his problem. As Slater, my mother, Roxy and I began the adventure, we passed by multiple houses and serene people enjoying the morning. Not long after reaching the end of the road, we came to a church parking lot and a field of tall brown grasses. On the other side was our destination, so we waded into the sunlit prairie. I basked in the daylight while pushing aside sprigs of wheat, and for a moment I went to the planes of Africa. I was an explorer—a pioneer on a safari on a quest for beauty.

The end of the field came quickly, and then we were crossing a big blacktop. In the distance, I saw the grocery store Slater worked at. Now it was time for Slater to enter and go find the manager he had spoken so furiously about. I let him enter first while my mother stayed outside with the dog. I wanted dearly for her to come in with me, but I entered alone in search of a tasty beverage.

I walked through the automatic double doors, trying to act as human as possible and find a simple product. There was one mistake I could not make, and that was grabbing what I wanted and leaving the store with it; I had to pay for it. I shuddered at the consequences of this mistake, and before I could find what I wanted, I spotted him: Slater’s manager. He was wearing a green baseball cap, a plain white t-shirt, and blue jeans. He looked in my direction and fear flooded my being. He had a round gut and just then his entire body morphed into a bowling pin shape; his face stretched across an inflated egg head. I stared at him frozen in disbelief, then turned and ran out of the store. He was a menace, a fearsome being.

Related: Excerpt from The Patterns of Existence II: The Subsequent Fate

The Patterns of Existence

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