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true hallucinations.htm it were a fast rewind of the recording of karmic activity. Once one's karma was rewound a state of original innocence would naturally flower. Lying in our hammocks, we set out to meditate our way into hyperspace. In my mind's eye, I could see myself at La Chorrera and then going down the trail to El Encanto, up the river to Leguizamo and back to Bogota, back to Canada. At each point I would meet the people that I had lived my life with and I would say, "We got it! I'm sorry. I hope I didn't offend you too much back in 3-D. It's all over now. Just all over." I could see people. Immediately, I reached out for all of them. "We're on the Amazon," I explained to each. "And now we are going home. Or some place." The vision had an utterly bizarre, real quality. Tears welled up behind my closed eyelids. It was very peculiar. The voice of the teacher spoke in my mind. "You've found it. This is it. It's all over now. There is no more. Within a few hours, the superstructure of earthbound, human civilization is going to collapse and your species will depart. First you will go to Jupiter and then to Alpha in Sagittarius. A day of high adventure dawns at last for the human beings." At first the images seemed to be deepening and growing more intense, but after an hour it was clear that they were actually fading. One by one we pulled ourselves out of the stupor that the morning heat and being in our hammocks had induced. We began talking and talking, analyzing and analyzing. Dennis seemed the most out of it. Dave and Vanessa were uncertain that anything at all had "really" happened. Ev was distant, and I was feeling definitely stoned and immersed in the surreal perception that had been mine since the chaotic opening of the day. Then I realized that something was wrong. Apprehension was outrunning reality, as it always does. For everyone else, nothing had happened. As we talked, it came out that no one could hear Dennis in their mind except me. And actually, they were all wondering what was going on, growing more alarmed as they couldn't help but conclude that I was losing my mind. We were entering what I later came to view as the next phase, which was a period of confusion for all. Dennis was definitely disengaged from reality. I would talk to him and he wouldn't know he was being spoken to. He broke into conversations because he didn't know anyone else was speaking. As the gulf between our perceptions became clear, we all felt the need to return to normal, to touch the basics; a visit to the priest's outdoor shower was suggested and seized upon, since we were all filthy and covered with the grime of the night's fire tending. We gathered up our scattered clothing. During this effort, we discovered that Dennis had thrown his glasses away along with his boots and everything else. Disheveled and disoriented, we retraced the path to the mission, searching unsuccessfully for the lost pair of glasses. A group of Witoto gazed at us as we passed and then roared with appreciative laughter. "They know. They know what has been done," the voice in my head assured me. They were certainly beaming and chortling about something. On we walked toward the mission and its shower in the sunshine. Dennis wouldn't stop talking, and it was really no longer possible to communicate with him. Consensus among the others was building that we had a crisis on our hands, but it wasn't out of control yet. I agreed with them that ayahuasca was very peculiar, and they thought that the passage of a few hours would smooth everything out. My conclusion was that something real and unanticipated had happened, that Dennis had done something, and that some kind of odd pharmacological effect had been unwittingly manipulated. But the effect had behaved only in part as we had expected, and so we were cast we knew not where. I was calm and could at least participate in the social situation. Though I was moved by emotions that sent tears of joy streaming down my face, I wasn't out of touch with reality. "We'll wait for tomorrow. Dennis will come down," I tried to reassure the rest of the group. Everyone seemed to be finding their way back to their normal psychic equilibrium save Dennis and myself. While I was burdened with odd but wonderfully expanded perceptions, his wandering ideas and wild eyes indicated that he was having real difficulty getting his feet on the ground. After our shower, on the way back to the forest, I mentioned all of these things to him, but acting as sly as Hamlet in his madness, he replied in riddles and with the mimicry of dead relatives. I could get nothing out of him; I continued to assume that a night's sleep would set him right. When we returned to camp, I insisted that he lie down, which he did. "Now can we call the press conference?" he inquired from his hammock, as the rest of us moved about trying to reestablish order. file:///C|/Documents%20and%20Settings/All%20Users/Doc...lture/True%20Hallucinations/true%20hallucinations.htm (56 of 106)4/14/2004 10:01:15 PM
true hallucinations.htm CHAPTER TWELVE IN THE VORTEX In which we discover that the Universe is stranger than we can suppose, Dennis makes a shamanic journey, and our group is polarized and divided. To SPARE VANESSA THE WALK back to the river we decided that she and Dave would stay the night at our hut. Their two hammocks were hung next to our three. It was crowded, but we dined well that evening, and except for the occasional oblique or incomprehensible comment from Dennis, the surface of things seemed to have been restored. Vanessa's ankle remained bad, and much attention was directed toward this difficulty, perhaps due to its palpable nature in contrast to most of what was going on. I still felt utterly changed and made new, both removed from everyone and content to let events unfold as they would. I was assured by the new thing inside of me that however odd things appeared all was very, very well. The last rave of this long, amazing day came after dinner in the firelight. From his hammock Dennis broke the silence to explain that this night in our dreams we would learn a series of things that would end with us severing our connection to our bodies long before morning. We would reassemble in our perfected, virtual bodies on the bridge of a starship that was in geo-synchronous orbit twenty-two thousand miles above the Amazon Basin. This was the second self-limiting prophecy that had been made since the experiment, the first being that morning's effort to meditate backward to one's birth. In retrospect I now see that this "eschatological hysteria" was one of the chief ways in which my thinking seemed radically different. Over the next weeks and years there would be many more of these self-testing prophecies, many scenarios of the possible way the world might undergo final, total, and complete eschatological transformation. Like Old Testament prophets or Hellenistic alchemists, we felt that we were caught up in a cosmic drama of fall and redemption. Four days from the experiment, five, seven, ten, sixteen, twenty-one, forty, sixty-four—all were times awaited with hope and willful suspension of disbelief and all came and went with the eschaton still all-pervading, yet still very elusive. The idea of a dimension-roving lens vehicle, once articulated, was never far away. It haunted Dennis's and my waking fantasy, our secret hopes, and our nightly dreams. Dennis's statement about the awaiting starship was also the first appearance of the UFO image in his thought since the experiment, a theme to be articulated in a thousand ways in the days that followed. The equation lapis = self = UFO was the operating assumption of Dennis's long voyage of self-discovery and return. With these images of death-in-sleep and rebirth-inside-a-starship ringing in our minds, we turned in, thoroughly exhausted. I stress that the hut was crowded, with hammocks strung from every available beam. It was difficult to move about without jostling one's neighbors through the tugging and twisting of the many ropes. We must have retired around ten o'clock. I slept soundly until sometime many hours later, which I took to be after two or so. I rose to take the traditional middle of the night piss that the use of condensed milk induces in explorers. Sitting up in my hammock, I struggled for matches and lit a candle. In the silent night I heard the inrush of my own exclamation of amazement. An intense, triple-layered corona of light was shimmering out from the candle flame for a distance of about four feet. A deep, iridescent blue alternated with an equally pure orange. I was immediately reminded of the aura of light that surrounds the body of the resurrected Christ in the painting by Matthias Grunewald. I understood that Grunewald must have seen the same thing that I was seeing now and later incorporated it into his "resurrection." Simultaneously, as though I was having a yet deeper thought, I somehow intuitively "understood" that the distortion or polarizing of the light of the flame was an effect caused by the distortion of psychic space-time induced by our experiment and the nearby, ubiquitous presence of the lapis. This thought was followed by another: Perhaps the temporal and spatial distance from the stone could be gauged by the intensity of the colors in the aura of light around a simple candle. The distortion of light from a candle might act as a detector of the philosopher's stone. I recalled Diogenes prospecting for the good with a lantern. Was that what he was doing? I thought of the phrase, "It is better to light one candle than to curse the darkness," and laughed. file:///C|/Documents%20and%20Settings/All%20Users/Doc...lture/True%20Hallucinations/true%20hallucinations.htm (57 of 106)4/14/2004 10:01:15 PM
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