What My Mother Never Knew #23: The Other Side Part Two

I heard the ticking of the clock on the mantle behind me, reminding me that time was in fact continuing on without my participation.... Tick, tick, tick.... I had no idea what the clock looked like but I suspected it was one of those antique mantle clocks with dark cherry casing and roman numerals on a yellowed aging face. I wanted to turn and see it, wanted to know for sure that time had not stopped - but I was frozen, completely unable to move of my own will. My body functions were all there - cruising on auto pilot, though slowly: blinking, breathing, heart beating. Volition though had slipped away... I could not move, not in the slightest way. I had been like this for an hour, gazing straight ahead, unable to answer those who stopped to talk to me. And though I could hear them laughing, and see them, in my peripheral vision, pointing and shaking their heads, nothing changed, the clock drummed on ... and on ... and on ... the rhythm intrigued me - as I'd earlier been intrigued by the throbbing bass in my friend's mini.

We were hanging out with our most preppie group of friends who were all in their early twenties. We'd switched to this scene for much of the spring and the parties were often elaborate concoctions that others would never have bothered with. This particular day was near Easter, and Leanne and Darcy picked me up in Darcy's white '72 Austin Mini. It had two black racing stripes down the hood that Darcy did justice by driving like an insane European.

We hit the road to convene at the Railyard where the rules of the car rally scavenger hunt were laid out. There were 6 cars: John's green Camero with Tammy in tow, Sue's steel blue Celica with Brice and Toni along, Danny's mom's Cutlass with Rob playing co-pilot, Tony and Ian in the recovered milk truck, and Leanne, Darcy, Mike and I in the mini. Mike had joined us after picking up a bag of rather green weed to share. In those days the term homegrown really equated to "impotence" and I was at first unimpressed. When he actually brought it out though, what the contents lacked in THC, they up for in quantity; there must have been about 2 ounces stuffed into his bomber jacket. And so away we went to find the first scavenger item.

We tore out of the parking lot, listening to Roxy Music...

Oh oh catch that buzz
Love is the drug I´m thinking of
Oh oh can´t you see
Love is the drug for me....

We hit the top of Mount Best and found a hidden Kokenay beer in the bushes near the sundial. We sped over to the resevoir to find a pair of pantyhose tied to the "No Trespassing" sign. We climbed into the fountain in front of the Grande Ocean hotel to pull a nipple tassel off of the goddess in the center. We were on a roll - at the head of the pack, but the clues were getting harder, and we were getting more stoned. To be sure that we were high on such lightweight weed, we just kept smoking, and smoking and smoking. The car windows even had a slight golden film on the inside by the end of the rally.

We ended up 4th place after we had a hard time finding the the jock strap, and weren't able to get any of the bonus items (peacock feather, empty rum bottle and an item with an American flag on it). We did manage to blow Darcy's speakers though (must have been Freddy Mercury)...

Still waiting for the pot to take effect, we arrived at the final party location. I found the bar and made something to drink. Quenched, I shuffled to the living room where I heard others and stopped in my tracks in disbelief. In the centre of the room was a 4 foot tall stuffed bunny, surrounded by baskets of chocolate, and other sweets. I felt like Alice in Wonderland and then it hit me - I was really high, exceptioally, beyond being able to talk myself down. I looked around and none of the surroundings struck me as normal. It was all distorted - the film had been stretched - the people became caricatures, the furniture and walls, props in some strange drama. It wasn't funny... my feet pulled me along to a fireplace ledge. Yes, there was that clock. I turned, found solid support as I lowered to meet the bricks and then I let go. That's it, I just let go. Perhaps I could have moved if I'd tried right then, but later, when I did try, I couldn't... I was perfectly still: the pond below the ripples, unexpressed potential.

Two hours later, I was lifted, given cold cloths and walked around the house - once the hostess realized I had become stuck. And then I was awake again, engaged, animated. I'd approached a precipice, teetered and then withdrew back to normalcy, toying with the limits, however unintentionally.

Some days now, when I can't remember a word or a name, I wonder if I left a few important parts behind, or perhaps ruined too many neural pathways. Other days, I suspect that I actually broke through into new states of consciousness. The stillness I experienced then was not unlike the results of the expensive Transcendental Meditation course I later took, a year or so after I realized that the drugs weren't working for me. And even though there were scares and many stupid decisions and consequences, I don't think I regret having experienced so many altered states. I'm sure it wasn't worth the risk, but I guess pushing the boundary was part of what drove me to use drugs. I'm glad I later found other ways and means to experience the adventures of consciousness.