There’s Something About Those Truffles
I wrote, before, of beginning this quarantine with nightshade truffles and I’ve been spreading them out, I really want them to last and really savor the effects. So, I wanted to write about the Datura Truffles. Even if there were no nightshades, it was amazing! I didn’t feel much just mostly chill while I was sketching some stuff out
Ah yes, this...my buddy Joey’s dog, Stoops, as a spider.
There he is!! See more Stoops, here.
and watching Midsommar.
But that night, I and the other person I am both quarantining with and enjoying fine confections with, had the most insane nightmares ever. And we both dreamt about shadows but it wasn’t the same dream or the same shadows.
Until now, I could not even begin to articulate mine, it was just bizarre and scary and I woke up feeling naked and the edge of terror. This is just not my typical night terror, of which I have a very close relationship and know well, this was something else.
And for the next 4 days I was shaken by it, more by the feel than the memory. All the while, still drawing up a storm...let me tell you something, I’ve never drawn so much in my life. Never. I was drawing like my life depended on it. And remember, I only started drawing again this April (2020), I haven’t drawn or even thought about it for more than 15 years. I used to draw, paint and sculpt regularly and took an art class a year. Then I just stopped after some of my art was destroyed by a former partner.
No art since then. Now it’s all day, everyday, and I think all this truffle testing has something to do with that. Anyway, back to the dream.
So my skin way shedding off in these giant diamond patches and just falling to the floor as if it were perfectly normal. I looked down at myself and I could see my muscles, then I looked back at the floor for that skin and it was gone. Then I heard, fluttering...sliding. Then these triangles of skin grew arms and legs and were chasing me to get back on my body. And I was running.
And every time my foot fell on something, a step, a window frame...whatever, it crumbled under my weight. And I looked around and the world was crumbling into an abyss.
I looked down at my chest and a triangle was missing and I could just see my heart. And I couldn’t stand to see it it. It looked frantic and sick. And somehow I was in a barron wasteland but it was covered in paper. And I was picking up paper, folding it into diamonds and placing them in the diamond shaped holes where my skin used to be.
That dream changed me.
We work things out in dreams or just grapple with them. They make so much sense when we are in them and almost none when we wake. Dreams seem to be a secret language our subconscious/spiritual selves speak. And I don’t always understand my dreams but I got that one loud and clear. And I got it with a deep, intuitive understanding, not just the flimsy, sometimes shallow understanding that comes from conversation.