The ecstasy I’ve taken has amphetamine mixed into it, so there’s no way I’m going to fall asleep. Indeed, as I recline here on my sofa, I’m fidgeting and, so to speak, bouncing off the walls as I peak on the E. Still, sitting here with my eyes closed, and in the middle of a trip on a combination of E, weed, and ketamine, while also tipsy on my few glasses of bourbon, I’m finding myself slipping into a reverie…
I am a little white elephant, floating in the clouds in the evening. The sun has almost set.
Looking down from heaven, I see the Queen of Sakia, all decked out in regal finery: she is wearing a red robe with goldwork embroidery on the neck and chest areas, as well as on the wrists of the sleeves and on the hem at the bottom. She looks gloriously beautiful.
She is reclining on a soft, purple couch and sleeping with her legs open, in all insouciance. Still hovering in the heavens, I decide to make my descent.
As I’m coming down, I find myself always fidgeting and twitching. A sparkling sensation is stimulating me from my head to my four feet, a sparkling augmented by that shiny gold embroidery on her, which shines, sparkles, and glows all the more as I get closer to her.
I’m shrinking in my descent. By the time I reach her open lap, I’m small enough to fit into her vagina. A hole in her white undergarment opens up so I, now the tiniest of elephants, can go inside the dark opening.
In her infinite black of a womb now, blacker than eyes squeezed shut, I float there, still fidgeting and twitching. Though I no longer see any shining gold, that sparkling feeling never ceases to thrill every inch of my body.
The sparkling slowly changes into a warm, humming sensation. As I feel this soft buzz, I can also feel the shape of my body changing. I’m getting thinner. My elephant ears are shrinking, as are my trunk and tusks. These all shrink to the point of disappearing.
My elephant legs are also shrinking, eventually getting to the point of transforming into the tiniest of feet and hands, which do little more than shake slightly. My head, almost as round as a ball, is about the same size as my torso. I’m attached to a placenta. No longer white, I’m a light, dull grey.
I am now a human fetus, of the development of one about two months in the womb. I black out for a moment.
I open my eyes briefly and see my living room, the TV turned off. I close my eyes again, and see only black.
It seems I’m opening my eyes a bit, for the blackness is only at the top and bottom of my field of vision, my eyelids’ borders, apparently. The light outside is blurry; I can barely make out anything at first.
I feel myself fidgeting and twitching some more, but now because I seem to be coming out of something dark, moist, and smelly. Fully emerged, I am soaking wet, naked, and freezing cold. The shock of it causes me to bawl. Someone wraps a blanket all over me, except for my face.
Aah…that feels much better.
My eyes focusing, I can see the flowers of a garden all around me. These flowers are of a variety of bright colours, including reds, yellows, pinks, purples, and whites.
I hear birds chirping, and I look up at the branches of trees above the flowers to see those birds in their nests. Funny thing: the birdsong sounds like a flute, a flute improvising variations on an Indian raga. I hear the glissandi of a violin, and the tapping of tablas, in the background, too.
I breathe in the fresh air, though I can also smell the smoke of a burning marijuana cigarette not too far away. I look up and see a cloudless blue sky beyond the trees’ foliage.
I feel myself being picked up and handed to that beautiful queen, my young, pretty mother, who is now wearing a dark green satin robe, again with goldwork embroidery along the hems. She puts me on her lap, caresses my head, and looks down at me with a loving smile.
I look to the side and see a man approaching, one perhaps ten years older than her. Wearing a gold crown and finery similar to hers, he must be the King of Sakia, my adoptive father. He sits beside her, looks down at me, and smiles.
An old man with a cane hobbles over to the three of us. He says, “This child will grow to be either the heir to your kingdom, to run the family business, or he will become a great revolutionary and spiritual leader!”
“A revolutionary?” the king shouts with indignation. “Not while I am king! I will do all that I must to prevent such a calamity to my kingdom and people!”
I close my eyes and see another void of black.
I open them again, and see myself inside a magnificent, luxurious palace, with gold lining the walls; between the gold lining is dark red or dark green, with paintings hung in the centre of each wall. These are portraits of the king and queen, as well as landscapes and scenes of glorious battles.
A nurse is breastfeeding me. I wonder where the queen is. My nurse is weeping, as is everyone else who walks by and looks at the queen’s portrait.
I hear one of the male servants say in sobs, “Only a week has passed by since the birth of the little prince over there, and our beloved Queen Maya is dead! What will King Sutton do without her?”
Another servant, a female, whispers, just loud enough for my baby’s ears to hear, “He will marry her twin sister, an abominable act of incest typical of royalty, with an abominable woman who I’m sure will give the prince no love at all…but what are we to do about it?”