All narratives
When vision memory and the power of suggestion work together
After examining the exquisite gravel for quite sometime near a factory at 2am whilst having a picnic we decided it was probably time to pack up our things and keep walking. We were miles from home and it would be starting to get light soon . It was then that we both noticed the Bedouin tribesmen who were gathered around a campfire chatting enthusiastically about ten meters away from us. “how long have they been there.” I asked my brother. “I don’t know“ he replied. We couldn’t decide if they had been there when we arrived, or if they had turned up since. After much deliberation and not wanting to appear rude but equally not wanting to spoil their evening we decided that the best course of action was to pack up out picnic then as we got up to leave walk over to the tribesmen and say we did notice you guys there but did not want to disturb you, have a nice evening guys. and leave. The Bedouins were still chatting away to each other gesturing and deep in conversation. So we packed up our picnic and headed towards them. but when we got within a few feet of the group it turned out to be just a pile of bin bags. This is funny because everything in this image is a pretty accurate depiction of reality except for the group of bedouin tribesmen. Both of us were seeing the tribesmen as clear as can be chatting away 19 to the dozen around their campfire, one of us had hallucinated them from memory or imagination and the other through the power of suggestion but both of us could clearly see the group of bedouin tribesmen at 2am whilst having a picnic in an unbuilt industrial estate.
The day I became president of the ducks
About two hours in, I became absolutely convinced that the ducks on the lake were holding an important political meeting. They weren’t swimming randomly they were clearly conducting official business. One large duck seemed to be in charge, while three smaller ducks followed behind like advisers. For reasons I still cannot explain, I felt obligated to assist. I spent nearly twenty minutes standing on the dock respectfully nodding at them. Eventually one duck looked directly at me, and in that moment I understood, without words, that I had been appointed Vice President of the Ducks. It was an enormous responsibility. I immediately briefed my friends on the situation. They responded by laughing so hard that one nearly fell out of a chair. I interpreted this as support from the human government. The next hour was spent negotiating an imaginary trade agreement between ducks and squirrels. The squirrels, unfortunately, were difficult to work with\. They kept changing shape every time I looked at them. Later, we lay in the grass watching clouds. One cloud became a dragon, then a sailing ship, then what appeared to be a giant loaf of bread judging humanity. Nobody could explain why the bread looked disappointed. As sunset arrived, everything became incredibly beautiful. The lake reflected orange and pink light, the trees seemed to breathe gently, and every song on our playlist felt like it had been written specifically for that exact moment. Then came the evening’s greatest mystery. Someone asked where the snacks were. The snacks were sitting on the picnic table. We all looked directly at them. None of us recognized them as snacks. For nearly ten minutes we debated what these strange objects could possibly be. One friend suggested they were “future potatoes.” Another thought they might be decorative rocks. They were tortilla chips. Eventually reality reassembled itself. The ducks concluded their meeting and returned to ordinary duck activities. My vice presidency ended without scandal. The squirrels remained suspicious but manageable.
The forest remembered me
I went into the woods carrying my father's absence like a stone. Around the second hour the trees began to breathe in time with me and I understood, without words, that he was not gone but distributed — in the moss, in the light, in the way I laugh. I cried for a long time and it felt like rain after drought.
A quiet hour of clarity
Low dose, alone, with music. Nothing dramatic. Colors softened and my thoughts lined up like beads on a string. I wrote eleven pages in my journal and later realized I had finally named the thing I'd been avoiding at work.
Dissolving into the ceremony
The purge came early and hard. Afterward I saw a vast geometric serpent that showed me every time I had chosen fear. It was not punishing — it was patient. I came back lighter but exhausted for days. Integration has been the real work.
Laughing at the stars
With three old friends on a hillside. We laughed until our faces hurt about nothing at all, then lay silent watching the sky rotate. The feeling of belonging stayed with me for weeks.