The walk.

It’s nightfall and the LSD trip is teetering off its apex.

I can hardly see our path along the dark dirt roads. Jimmy, liquored on booze, walks with me. On our last night of the Lightning in a Bottle festival, we walk. To find mysterious hippy enclaves and secret meetings of the hacker group Anonymous, we walk. To feel soil against our feet and air in our hair, we walk. To experience life as it is, we walk.

“It feels strange out here. Like I’m picking up your psychadelic vibes,” Jimmy says.

I agree. Each moment feels surreal, like we are discovering the present before it unfolds.

We return to the main grounds and I’m dazzled by the spectacle of a million monochromatic lights gushing from the music stages. Even more outstanding is the glow from the audience. Girls whip, flip, and jump through their LED-lit hula hoops. And around the bend, a group of fire-charmers spin blazing flames with reckless precision. I look above and note the brilliance of the night sky, like a bejeweled satin cloth has been sewn onto the ceiling of the universe.

“Jimmy, is it me or are there two planes moving amongst the stars?”

“It’s just you.”

The residuals from the acid, I guess. My mind is clear and my heart is open. Over the week, I felt embedded emotions emanate to the surface. Today, I felt salty tears outline my cheekbones. It felt good. Real good.

“I’m done fucking around.”

“You mean with girls?” Jimmy says.

“In all my relationships, especially girls.”

I look towards the festival lights, “This moment. Its purity and fullness, I feel awake. I want more of this in my life. And I want to share it with someone else too.”

Jimmy looks out at the crowds, “sounds like your mind is made up.”

“Yes, it is… I hope to remember this for a long time.”

I still do.