Miracle Working & Drug Dealing

  • I'm at Porter College, UC Santa Cruz, and it's a glorious sunny day. Hippies lounge on the grass or throw frisbee; ganja smoke wafts gently on the breeze from open dorm room windows. I'm standing on the open balcony at the top of the 4th floor stairs, looking down on the living menagerie. As the sunlight fades with the passing hours, I gradually become more and more lucid. As dusk arrives, I hop daintily over the railing and glide down through the air to the center of the quad. Then I turn around and fly back up to my vantage point. I'm just flexing my powers, you see. As I gaze down at my fellow students, I become aware of an emotional shift--it feels like a depression has settled over the inhabitants of Porter College. I take it upon myself to act as the bringer of light. I raise my hand and concentrate intently. In the center of the quad, a flame spontaneously appears then grows larger until a small bonfire is burning. Into the building I go and begin to patrol the dim hallways. Occasionally I sense a depressing emotion emanating from a particular room. I lightly touch the door as I pass, granting whatever remedy is required within. Sometimes I'm aware of what gift I've given--a lost photograph, a sense of self-esteem, a lighter--but mostly I am merely a channel for the healing power: an anonymous miracle worker.

  • A hypnopompic vision as I delay rising from my bed this morning. I'm driving and pull up behind a small grocery store. I'm meeting my friend Bill here and he steps out of a car that's already parked. I'm a drug dealer in this vision, and offer to sell some large quantity of LSD to Bill. He doesn't like the price and seems to get mad. Another guy, Brendan, comes around from the other side of the car and it looks like they intend to jack me. I quickly pull away in my car and, now in the child-like spirit of playing a video game, proceed to drive recklessly through the streets, over peoples' lawns, through their yards, causing accidents left and right.

It was interesting to observe how the vision became more realistic as time went on. My sense of self gradually faded from my prone body lying in bed to the hands on the wheel and foot on the peddles. At the same time, my ego likewise faded away as I slowly forgot who I was came to believe the vision was reality.

I was in a huge church one fine Sunday morning with my family. The service had just ended and the vicar was showing the congregation, which was quite sizeable, a wooden coffin which was stood upright near the altar. He invited everyone to stand inside this coffin, which we all thought was a little strange, but we had known the vicar for years and knew he was a nice, kindly chap who wouldn't hurt a fly.

The congregation lined up and entered the coffin one by one until (somehow) the whole congregation, which must have numbered upward of about eighty, was in this one coffin. However the twist was, this was not a coffin at all! It was in fact a doorway to a cramped pitch-black room, where everyone stumbled about on an uneven metal surface.

Suddenly a large door opened and as the light flooded in it became apparent what had happened. We were in a small aircraft hangar with the entire congregation on top of a Lockheed SR-71 Blackbird! The vicar, who we all thought was so nice, was already in the cockpit and he took off before anyone had a chance to climb off to safety.

The last thing I remember is the superfast spy plane rocketing through the stratosphere at speeds upward of 2000 mph with a whole congregation of people hanging on for dear life.

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