A beginning of sorts

[Gobbo]

I was having an odd dream, one that I wouldn’t call reoccurring per say, but definitely one I’ve had more than a couple times in my life. In the dream I am wearing a football helmet, doing various activities, but the strange thing is (besides the football helmet) that everything is underwater. Everything is the same; the sun is in the sky, the cars are driving by on the roads, there is even a coastline. But, all the while I’m swimming around with the ability to breathe in the clear liquid. Even now I often ponder the dream as I was that day, laying there on my bed awake, staring up at the ceiling the listening to rain beat down on the top of my roof. The sound of rain is an odd sound sometimes as the size of the water droplets can seemingly vary in size. The result is a wide variety of sounds, which at the time happened to be something like a rooftop of swing dancers tapping away to Anita O’Day

After about a minute of full consciousness and ceiling staring I blinked. About another minute later I blinked again. This process went on, probably longer than it should have until I finally gave myself the mental whip crack to push myself out of bed. Standing up onto my wooden bedroom floor caused my feet to wake up as well and with atrophied unpleasentries.

The phone started to ring.

“No time to hear it boys” I told the feet and proceeded across the room to get the portable from its stand on my desk in the opposite corner. I pressed ‘talk’ and, falling back into my soft leather couch placed along the wall behind my desk, I said “Yello!”

“What’s up? It’s Chad.”

I was only wearing a pair of smiley face silk boxers so, as a result the cold leather was a surprise to my mostly bare skin that snapped me to attention. It was alright though, I needed to wake up. “Not a whole lot…Just got up”

“Cool, Listen, you coming down to the club tonight for the new record launch? J’s gonna do a little sample for the crowd and then I imagine we’ll just party a bit, do some networking. Hellfire’s paying for nearly all of it so I figure might as well have a few drinks right?”

“Heh, since when do you worry about money?”

“Well, I don’t, but I just like the fact that I’m taking from them, instead of helping to promote their shit, plus I haven’t been out in ages. You know me, smoking and reading” he said with a little laugh.

“Alright, well yeah I’ll probably drop by, maybe try and network a couple customers. Where is it at?”

“The Caveman’s Club”

“Ok… I’ll be by around 9 or so, just make sure that I can get in”

“You won’t have a problem”

I pressed ‘end’ on the portable and tossing it on the ground I lay my head back down on the couch; the leather was starting to warm up a bit and I was glad. Quickly I shut my eyes and tried to envision my day. I had to make a delivery to a customer at the mental hospital and then run a couple errands before heading to the club. I nodded to myself with a smile as I pictured everything going well. At moments like this I feel objective, the mysterious consciousness that I view the world from exists in fact, outside of that world and so with a Heisenberg laugh I had learned to easily see a wave of pleasure, instead of a particle of despair. There are, of course, fundamental aspects to the reality we all make for ourselves that are simply too engrained in who we are as physical specimens to change. Still though, a little positive thinking can smudge the edges of free will a bit.

With the above in mind I headed back over to my desk, phone in hand and placed it in the holder before pulling out the chair and taking a seat. I could almost sense it’s presence in time and space; sitting there in the mysterious dark confines of my dresser drawer awaiting retrieval from my hand. Taking out the small bag of crystalline life seasoning I tossed it on top of my dresser before grabbing the remote control and turning on the TV.

“Tired of your wife rubbing your back saying ‘it’s alright dear’ or having to beat up your daughter’s boyfriend because you’re not getting any? New Herbilis is scientifically engineered with state of the art technology; the specially formulated herbal design enables the compound to allow you to ‘rise’ to the expectations.”

Eyes flickering back and forth between the TV, my hands were silently breaking apart a bit of my own sticky creation onto the top of the glass panel which comprised the top of the desk; this panel itself rested on top of a wire framed iron base. This particular strain was a whitish Indica; I carefully broke up the herb into a small uniform pile, I could see my feet resting on the floor below the glass plane and I wiggled them in jest. Finishing the task I rubbed my fingers feeling the sticky layer of THC on them and once again wondered where my bud buster had gotten to.

“Tonight on BNN, How safe is your dog? Gary Defluer investigates the dangers of pet terror. Don’t miss it”

I silently let the commercial wash over me without paying it much mind as I reached down to pick up Henry Roengardener. The bong, one I liked to use in the morning, was a standard glass apparatus, enlarged near the bottom to allow for a bit more water space. Plucking the bowl from the tube entering the chamber it also had a glass tube attached to it which slid into the original tube completing the seal and enabling for a bowl and a choke at the same time. This style had its advantages as it’s somewhat easier to negotiate flow control with the bowl choke than by simply using your finger over a traditional choke somewhere near the top. I loaded up the material from its place on the glass desktop and using my finger to scrape up all the crystal I ran it along the edge of the bowl to scrape the sticky nectar off as well. Swiveling in my chair and turned back to the TV, I placed Henry on my knee and holding the tube at the top I bend over slightly to place my mouth over the opening of the thermometer shaped tool. Applying flame and just flickering it over the crystal is enough to ignite it as I slowly inhale, watching the smoke gather calmly in the chamber through the multicolored class. Feeling a slight tinge in the back of my throat, earlier than I expected actually, I smiled slightly finishing off the rest of the pot as my eyes started to water.

Exhaling the smoke I watched it expand playfully and I pictured myself surfing on the different ribbons of expanding aroma, feeling the true air wash over me with intrigue. I sat for a moment like this, blinking a couple times as hazy party streamers before my eyes faded and the TV came back into view. The screen of the television was a paradoxical region as the flat glass seemed to be smooth with texture all at once. The image which permeated the pressurized membrane fascinated me; Jerry Springer’s audience erupted into chanting ‘skank ass whore’ simultaneously, and in perfect unison. I imagine that Jerry often gets depressed or unexcited with his rather unique case studies, but it must be fucking hilarious to walk into work and see ‘skank ass whore’ illuminated above the audience with ‘applause’ and ‘Fight’.