Dmitri My Teacher

“Sketch sketch,” goes the icky bicky wrapped in a 70’s rainbow tie dye print. After admiring the flame for half a second I bring it up to towards me. As flame meets flower an ember is born. Quickly it grows in strength, spreading until it consumes all that it can. As the ember begins to fade I pull the bowl and the intoxicating mixture of co2 and THC rushes into me. Setting the glass piece down I sit back to exhale towards the wobbly fan spinning overhead. Closing my eyes and opening them again, the room is now brighter, your mind clearer, and for a moment all of your problems seem negligible.

5 seconds later, you notice this is no ordinary bowl as the oder of what must be a combination of old shoe, bad breath, and burnt plastic penetrate the room. Your friend’s face contorting in an unnatural way as you look to her in with an combination of gratitude and fear. It’s clear what’s going on. Dimitri has a unique and memorable presence. Knowing exactly how to handle this sorta situation is absolutely necessary for coming out of the next fourteen minutes sane. So I close my eyes, get as comfortable as I can before the mesmerization begins, and open my mind to accept whatever happens next.

I come out of the experience shaking, but the fear left a lifetime ago. The shakiness is more due to the unique impact of the experience. I did not start this trip with any intentions, but I left with the powerful understanding that everything is inside me. All of the highs and lows, ins and outs, everything within my conceivable universe is held inside the mushy grey and white ball of fat between my ears. Perhaps this is something I’ve known before. It would be a easy enough concept to pickup on from a semester long community college philosophy 101 course. But after seeing alien colors, and talking with what I can only assume is my inner mother, I can really understand what I perhaps already knew.