I did what? part 4
2016-05-23 - 1:42 p.m.

strangely non-functional guestbook

At this point, the narrative for this series within the august pages of Saintly Stories breaks down.

At least for the 4 part series. The outcome of it was never in doubt. Obviously, I have a new career. When I got the word that I passed, I wept like a baby. Openly sobbed. I've done things that would make most good people blush and turn their heads, but there isn't really anything to compare to that feeling of validation.

And now people have to take me seriously all over the map. Everyone started treating me differently right from the moment they heard. It was interesting, to say the least. I have accomplished a bit in my life, but this validation makes me tough to ignore or dismiss offhand. Not that this happened a whole lot prior, but I suppose there was some comfort for some in the thought that I hadn't had that validation. Validation of my smarts, my way of doing things, my attitude of sorts. It is something else, like no other.

But that's not what part three was going to be about. Mostly not, anyway.

Tomorrow I'm going to drop 'cid and go to canoe the stretch of river where my buddy and I saw a ghost in the forest.

We had tripped in the summer prior, and this was our annual last hurrah of the fall. Typically, when winter encroaches around here, there will be one last blast of summer. The mercury will creep up above 80, the sun will soak down and you know its the end of a good thing, like a good date with someone you really like.

It happens around his birthday, and we hop on it, into the woods we go.

It was a fairly normal trip. I had no idea about my impending news and I stayed fairly well in the moment, feeling my existence.

He talks a lot, but by the last 2/3's of this part of the river, he peters out, and we move silently through the forest, the hoofbeats of deer and the call of the waterfowl, like woodcock, our only companions. If the wind is right, they never know you are there, the best way to stalk into the heart of the woods and see what is going on there.

Anyway, we took our time, and we came to the part of the river, the last 1/3, where there is a landing, and a small tributary joins the main, swift moving river.

The sun sank low into the sky in the west. We were headed east. In the distance on the landing, I see a woman dressed in a diaphanous white gown, waving what looks like a white town or sheet at us. She seems happy, excited even, waving it back and forth.

"That's nice," I thought, paying it now mind. It was either a person or a straight up hallucination.

One of the things no one tells you about LSD is that ultimately, if done right, unmoors you from defining yourself and your world by your perceptions. You perceptions are not you. Your perceptions may lie to you. So if you see something strange or crazy out of the corner of your eye, veteran trippers have long learned to dismiss it. It is either not there, or is something we have no idea about or framework to accurately describe.

And then there are straight up hallucinations where your friends turn into demons and the bad vibes about. Good times. Good times. Remind me to tell you that story. I may have told it in the past, if it hasn't disappeared into the ether here.

Anyway, I see this woman, and she's almost *dancing* along the shore, in flowing white, waving a white sheet or a towel. She seems happy, no *elated* at seeing us.

And I dismiss it right away. Right? Why not. I've seen things that didn't exist before on LSD. And its nearing twilight. It can't be there. There are no horses, there are no canoes. Yet...she's still there.

I take off my sunglasses and wipe my eyes.

Nope, still there.

I put it out of mind and paddle on. It will resolve itself eventually, pay it no attention.

As we pull up to a few football fields away, I casually mention it to my friend.

"I thought I saw someone on the shore..."

"Yeah, I saw that. A woman, dressed all in white, flowing white gown, waving a white sheet at us. Thought I was seeing shit."

Now...this is the thing. Group hallucinations are bullshit. They simply don't happen. Maybe someone is weak minded somewhere, or they want to fit in to the group, or whatever the agenda, but realistically, no one sees the exact same damn thing. You may run into someone that claims they have had a group hallucination, but rest assured, they are full of shit.

We paddled to the landing, the woman had walked back into the woods, up the trail.

I hopped out of the canoe, and pulled it into the sand quickly, and hurried up the trail.

I heard a silvery giggle, and looked at the bridge up the trail. She moved quickly, silently over the bridge and into the woods, pale white, robed in white. The forest quieted to a complete hush. It was definitely strange. The hair on my arms stood up straight.

The urge to follow her was strong, but I denied it. Foolish people die foolish deaths, and I'm not sure what there was to gain here either way. Plunging through the heart of the forest unequipped with anything except a head full of acid and impending night chasing a ghost didn't seem to be the best course of action. What if I caught up to her? What then? What would I find if it was a ghost or a real person? I would be lost and this is how stupid people die.

I walked back to the landing and told my friend what I had seen. He concurred at seeing her go across the bridge, and my assessment of the negative possible outcomes. He didn't elaborate, but he seemed to think it was a lure, like a siren, to lead one of us to an ill fate.

Maybe it was a ghost and she wanted...something. Maybe it was an ancient and fey creature of which we have no knowledge, or something else altogether which science has yet to figure out a way to describe. I don't know.

I do know I've never seen anything move like that silently. I've never seen anything like that in the heart of the woods without some sort or equipment, a means for getting there, or...pants, shoes, that sort of thing.

I cannot explain what I saw, only describe what I saw. I do believe it was something beyond our ken or current level of reckoning.

I guess if anyone reads this, think what you will. I know the evidence against my credibility is strong in this instance, but I do believe Blake was onto something when he talked about cleansing the doors of perception.

So I'm going there tomorrow, to do the same thing again.

My friend steadfastly refuses to talk about it.

And me?

I hope I see her again.

a template by wicked design

about comment designer archive archives newest diaryland