So Shall We Pass

He walks over to me and presses my elbow firmly against the armrest. His black eyes fixate so intently upon my arm that I can’t help but look myself. The blue veins begin to rise like swelling rivers. I look back into his widely opened, eager eyes. He points the needle down, bringing it to a hover above one of the larger blood-rivers: the Nile vein of my arm. I struggle to free my hands, but the Nile becomes even more engorged, flooded with life giving blood. He plunges the needle into the vein. He pulls the plunger back and I watch my blood flow into the syringe’s reservoir, mixing with the tar-brown fluid. He looks into my eyes, and smiles.For a moment, I forget everything. I wish I could freeze him like that forever: smiling and seemingly happy. I look down at my arm as he empties the blood-mixed fluid into my vein. Instantly, relaxation overwhelms me. My arms release their tension. My body begins to dissolve. Something familiar and soft envelopes me. My head is heavy, but I manage to get one last glance at my dad standing over me. His voice reverberates in my head, but I can’t make out the words. The sounds die quietly in the emptiness between us. My breathing flows into easy waves. Floating down a river, lying on a bed of furs, I stare up at the dim orange sun. Beyond the shore I see the snow covered peaks of a towering mountain range. Sound waves drift through the air. They bounce off one another in oblique angles, but my mind pieces together their wayward sounds to form a coherent shape and pattern: symphony. Fountains of water spray from the river, cutting swaths of distortion through the sky. The sound of voices grows steadily around me. Beautiful voices from beautiful girls. I close my eyes to better enjoy the deep delight of my drifting. I close my eyes, but my vision becomes more acute. Here are the singing girls. They stroke stringed instruments and wear wispy silk, accentuating their nubile shapes. I am a king on his throne, and these lovelies are mine. My body spasms in slow waves of bliss: lapping, rolling, returning to the ocean of pleasures from which they originated. With my mind, I beckon the girls nearer. They obey. They are mine. This is mine. Suddenly, I notice an immense creature sitting on a floating throne above me. He watches me disinterestedly. Flames envelop him like a robe, but he does not burn. In his right hand, he holds a gold scepter with a jewel encrustedtip. His crown is also gold with six sharp spires. In his left hand, he flicks a long whip which undulates in harmony with the movement of his wrist. His eyes glow red with fire. He laughs to himself, or maybe at me. Who knows? His smile is powerful, but I return my attention to the lovely curves, shapes, and movements of the girls. My eyes absorb the rawness of the pleasures they offer. I caress the soft garments that sit upon their smooth, pale skin. Their warmth runs through my fingers and over my body. I look down, and I have many arms and many hands. They are intertwined and flow freely over the dancing beauties. I halt one of the delicate bodies to more thoroughly examine her. Just above her supple breasts rests a necklace which piques my interest: miniature human skulls have been strung together across her flesh. The skulls are charred black, with jewels set into the eye sockets. I slide my hand down her chest to take the necklace in my fingers. I smile at the skulls. They smile back at me. Before thoughts even form, visions materialize before my eyes: distant shores, distant lands, they are all mine in this world of sleep. My burdens are lifted and in this moment I find rest, respite, relief. Words only dilute the experience. Feeling is everything here. I lie back and rest my head in the lap of my darling nymph. She caresses my hair and face. I cherish this warmth, but I begin to realize the temporal nature of my visit. This is only a passing world, and I am only a visitor. This world has played an evil trick on me. I was wrong to allow myself to fall into such a delirium. The pleasures begin to disappear. I reach for the girls, but my hands do not obey. The girls fade farther and farther from me, until they are gone. I open my eyes to silence and blurred colors. The stabbing pain in my side reminds me of my other reality. My dad sways in front of me, struggling to keep his balance. His arms dangle lazily, and his eyes have rolled deep into the back of his head. A needle hangs from his arm as he mumbles incoherently. The initial tsunami of euphoria has subsided; only aftershocks of the drug remain. My stomach feels sick and nausea overwhelms me. I turn my head and vomit on the floor. My stomach continues to churn, but the relief is instant. The knots of the rope dig into my wrist. A trickle of blood has dried where he injected me, forming a red-brown circle the size of a crusty penny. My dad stumbles toward the wall, slamming into the locked door. He slides down like an egg splattered against a wall. The vomit stinks and the smell is making me sick again. He continues mumbling to himself in an oddly melodic tone. The room begins to spin again. I feel heavy: heavier than this chair can support. Another wave of euphoria washes over me. I close my eyes to enjoy it. This warmth gives me strength. The temptation to linger in this dream state distracts me. I must get out of the barn.