Chillin' til my face lost
Grillin' til my head tossed
Numb'up in the deep lagoon.
Life in a float tank
puffin on that dirty dank,
tis the purest one
of them all.
A solipsistic darkness. . . . .
Black,
then white,
are
all I see
Red and yellow then came to be
Reaching out to me,
Lets me see.
Psychic lagoon of inter-dimensional consciousness
Flipping a switch into
the contra-dimensional negative
of our own true, real, and existent duality
The deepest darkest lagoon
to our bright white lagoon
spectral opposites
The dark world in which the dreams are actually occurring
in real time
a place of events
real or not
yet fully existent
in the chambers of our minds
A painfully vivid place
of symbols and archetypes
that are actually individualized for you
yet momentarily snatched from the collective consciousness
of myths and figures.
For our psyches want to tell us something.
They want to teach us. To show us.
The want us to inhale the whispery winds they send our way
to see the floaty dandelions whisped away across the sun laden valley
to root us back deeper towards our original vibration,
to shake us up and reverberate our wavelengths
back towards the original skin-topped bongo drum that spawned us,
beaten wlidly and deeply by the red eyed animal,
back towards the life event
that birthed our adult personas in the first place.
Dreams that have dark, unsurpassable doors.
Something deep inside you believes that if you were
mentally capable of willingly crossing that threshold
within the space of your dream
you could finally
journey into a realm
in which you are more aware
more conscious
of both your physical
and ethereal
selves.
