Jessica and I purchased our tickets, and stepped into the time machine.

We had stepped back in time fifteen years, and we marveled at the old Rideau Street, the one we remembered. The year was 1995 again, and we walked hand-in-hand, looking for people we used to know, places we used to visit.

It was only as we tried to pay for our coffees with the new five and ten dollar bills that we realized we might have some problems.


Kalen (from The Lofters) and I laughed as we downed another shot, and snuck off to the washroom to do another line, another pill. The night degenerated, and after my senses started to fail me, all I was left with was the slowly fading awareness of strobes, sweat, and skin.

When the gray blanket started to lift, I found myself on a subway, screaming at some poor woman about the consciousness-expanding effects of GHB. It was amazing that I could actually watch myself acting this way, and it was a full minute before I regained control of myself, and managed to drag myself out of the train.

I cannot convey the terror of thinking that you are truly awake, and knowing that your mind has finally slipped.