Thursday, November 30, 2023

The Quantum Nexus:

 Exploring the Cosmic and Neural Connection





   In the vast tapestry of the cosmos, the Milky Way Galaxy stands as a celestial masterpiece, a swirling mélange of stars, planets, and cosmic dust. Within this enigmatic structure lies the promise of an astonishing connection with the human central nervous system, a union that transcends the boundaries of our understanding. In the age of posthumanism, where the line of demarcation between biology and technology blur, we delve into the profound quantum connection that weaves the fabric of the universe with the intricate web of our individual consciousness.

   Quantum entanglement, the phenomenon where particles separated by vast distances instantaneously affect each other, hints at a cosmic interconnectedness. In our galaxy, this phenomenon takes on a grand scale, linking stars, planets, and celestial bodies in a harmonious dance. At the same time, within each human being, the central nervous system, with its billions of neurons and synapses, orchestrates the symphony of thoughts, emotions, and actions. Could it be that this seemingly disparate duo shares a profound connection, mediated by the quantum world?

   In the realm of quantum physics, the theory of non-locality posits that particles once entangled remain connected, regardless of the physical distance separating them. Similarly, the Milky Way's vast expanse, spanning 100,000 light-years, houses countless stars and planets, all interacting through gravitational forces. Could this cosmic entanglement influence the neural activities within the human brain?

   The human central nervous system, a complex network of neurons, conducts electrical signals to transmit information throughout the body. These electrochemical processes are governed by the laws of quantum mechanics, where subatomic particles can exist in multiple states simultaneously. The phenomenon of superposition suggests that, just like particles, neurons can exist in multiple states at once, allowing for a rich tapestry of thoughts and experiences.

   Furthermore, quantum tunneling, the ability of particles to traverse seemingly insurmountable energy barriers, may offer a parallel to human consciousness. In our galaxy, the concept of cosmic tunnels, wormholes, could connect distant regions through shortcuts in spacetime. Could these cosmic anomalies, in some unfathomable way, influence our thoughts, allowing us to access distant knowledge or experiences?

   The concept of quantum coherence, where particles oscillate in synchrony, suggests that the entangled neurons within the human brain may communicate in ways yet to be understood. Similarly, the Milky Way's vastness may foster a cosmic coherence, where the interconnected celestial bodies resonate in harmony. Could this coherence extend to our thoughts and emotions, creating an unseen connection between our individual consciousness and the galaxy itself?

   As we embark on the posthuman journey, where technology and biology merge, we must explore the implications of this quantum connection. Advances in neural interfaces and artificial intelligence offer the potential to bridge the gap between the individual and the cosmos. Could we use technology to tap into the cosmic consciousness, gaining insights and knowledge beyond our wildest dreams?

   In conclusion, the quantum connection between the astral structure of the Milky Way Galaxy and the human central nervous system remains a tantalizing mystery of the posthuman era. While we may not fully comprehend the intricacies of this connection, its existence challenges us to explore the boundaries of our understanding. As we venture further into the cosmos and into the depths of our own consciousness, we may uncover the profound interplay between the quantum fabric of the universe and the related nature of our minds, forging a pathway to a new era of human potential.






Tuesday, November 28, 2023

I'm So Lonely


 



        I never felt loneliness until I was kicked out of Hell. In the Underworld I had friends and even an allegiance of my own followers. But once the almighty Dark Lord kicked me out and banished me to Earth I was all alone.

       When I arrived on Earth the first thing I had to do was shape shift into human form. Normally my real form consisted of a humanoid mosquito-like appearance. Everyone in the Underworld had a “mansquito” appearance. But once I ended up here on this freezing, smelly surface world I knew I had to disguise my appearance. Back home I was considered a stud and there was always a flock of women to greet me everywhere I went. But on the surface world my appearance was considered nightmarish.

        The weird thing about being on Earth was the fact that I had the sudden urge to eat which was a feeling I had never felt before. Back home none of us had to worry about nourishment. So once I got settled on Earth I went to random bars and strip clubs and picked up women. At first I would lure them into back alleys. But eventually I stole a van and I would lure them into the back of the vehicle. With a needle like appendage that extended from my snout I would jab it into the tip of their skull and start sucking out their brains as a source for nourishment. It’s how I ate. I drained their brains.

       The main problem was always getting rid of their bodies. I had to dig holes to hide the remains. But the funny part was the look on their faces when they would see me transform. I always found their horrified expressions hilarious. But then they would start to scream which was really annoying and not to mention I was always worried about the police showing up. So I’d usually keep a rock in the van so I could knock them out before sucking out their brain.

       But after a while eating their brains just got old. I was getting pretty lonely because instead of meeting the right woman I had to kill them for survival. I really just wanted a companion but anytime I tried to get to know a woman on this realm of existence my survival mode took over and I would just end up using them as food.

       My hunger became so insatiable that people started to discover the bodies and noticed the holes punctured through the base of their skulls. The media started to call me The Brain Drainer because they didn’t know my true identity. My name was Billy Ross. I took the name Billy Ross after I saw a cover of Jock Illustrated, featuring a famous athlete named Billy “the Behemoth” Rossdale. Apparently he’s a famous ultimate fighter on this world. But looking at the athlete I could tell he would’ve made a great warrior in the Underworld. So it made sense to take his name. I still couldn’t shake the name The Brain Drainer since it was all over the news and police kept finding the bodies. Luckily I had no human D.N.A. So I was untraceable.

       I will admit when I first arrived on Earth I found humans amusing. They’re so juvenile. None of them would survive one hour in the depths of the Underworld. Besides, one glimpse of our “mansquito” appearance and they would have a meltdown. An example was the following night I drove my van to some run down strip club. I lured one of the strippers into the back of my van. She had this powdered white substance that she sprinkled onto a compact mirror. She began snorting it through one of the dollar bills that some drunk idiot from the audience gave her. 

       “Here, try it,” She said, sprinkling more of the substance onto the mirror. “This shit will kick start your heart, Motley Crue style.”

       “Motley… who?” I responded.

       The stripper busted out laughing. “Come on,” she said. “You’re fucking with me, right? Just snort the line.”

       I leaned forward and snorted the white powder which ignited my senses. I felt like I could breathe. Normally I had difficulty breathing but this stuff allowed me to breathe Earth’s atmosphere.

      “What is this?” I said.

      “It’s cocaine,” she said, laughing.  “Jesus dude, where have you been?”  

      The stripper sprinkled more onto the little mirror and began to cut it with a razor. I leaned forward again and began snorting. This stuff made me feel invincible. I felt a sense of warmth which was something I’d never felt before. Coming from a place like Hell there was no such thing as love and warmth. The only warmth we felt down there was from the endless ocean of Hell’s fire. But what I didn’t realize was the drug was affecting my shape shifting abilities. My human appearance was slowly regressing back to my demonic “mansquito” appearance. 

       I could see her facial expression drop to a look of pure dread. She screamed and grabbed a switchblade from her pocket and jabbed the blade into my throat.

      I pulled the knife from my throat and attempted to chase after her while gripping my neck. But needless to say, she got away. It’s too bad. I was getting to like her, but even she couldn’t accept the fact that I wasn’t even human.

      “You’re doing it all wrong, slick,” a voice said from down the alley.

       “Mind your own business,” I shouted back.

        The figure was sitting and leaning against the wall. He got up and approached me. He held up a lighter, revealing his face which contained two long scars on each side of his mouth. The scars formed a Glasgow smile. In fact that was his name.

       “The name’s Johnny Glasgow. You might want to shape shift into something more settling there, slick.”

        “How do you know I’m a shape shifter?”

        “I’ve encountered your kind before. You’re demons. Yeah, the minute you guys fuck up, Satan banishes you here for a while. But then you guys always go back. I’ve seen it happen several times before.”

        “Well, I think I’m banished here for good.”

        “Then it looks like you need a friend,” Glasgow said, patting me on the shoulder.

        “Pssh, you should talk,” I responded, lighting a cigarette which helped my lungs breathe the atmosphere.

        “Touché,” Glasgow said. “Here, I got something for you. It’s inside my shed, which is also where I live. But at least it’s a roof over my beautiful face.”

        “What is it that you have?” I asked.

        “I’ll show you, but let’s step into my office before the popo' sees us.”

        “The what?” I asked, sounding utterly confused. I still had to grasp their lingo.

        “The police,” He said, “Where have you been… in a cave? Pssh, what am I talking about? You’re a demon...of course you’ve been in a cave.

        I followed Glasgow to his shed. He unlocked the door and inside everything was neatly in place. I mean for a hobo he was pretty well organized.

       “You live here?” I asked.

       “Correctomundo… now please, sit.”

        I sat on a chair chewed up by rats. The entire chair was covered with little teeth marks punctured across its surface.

        “So tell me about that girl you were trying to bang before everything went to Hell, no pun intended,” Glasgow said, reaching for a needle that was full of some shady substance.

        “I just get so lonely,” I said. “I had this crazy thought that her and I could possibly copulate without me sucking her brain dry.”

        “And that’s why they call you The Brain Drainer,” he said.

        “You know about that?”

        “Pssh, the entire country knows about The Brain Drainer,” Glasgow said, tying a tourniquet around my arm. He injected the needle into a vein. “Now this will fix your whole complexion,” he said, pointing to the "mansquito" side of my face. “Next time, ease up on the blow...if you want to keep your human form intact. That shit will dehumanize your looks...if you know what I mean.”

        I must admit once the heroin took hold, the euphoric effect made me feel invincible. I could feel the tingling sensation of my human skin replenish itself. Within a moment my human face was whole again.

       “You’re all set, slick. I wish I had that ability. It could take care of my whole disfigurement problem,” Glasgow said, pointing to his two mouth scars.

       “Too bad you live on Earth,” I said. “The women down in Hell would drool all over you. Scars are considered a sign of masculinity down there.”

       “Hmm, I’m not sure if I go for that whole insectoid look. That’s not my type,” Glasgow said, lighting a cigarette before plopping himself down on a seat next to me. He tied a tourniquet around his arm before injecting a needle. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes. “I’ve been thinking,” he said.

       “Thinking about what?”

       “You and I should go into business together. If the two of us work together and join forces, we can kidnap victims and sell their body parts to a Chinese market on the dark web. We could make a fortune. I mean you do have to eat, right? So instead of going through the painstaking effort of burying bodies like a dog, we should work together, and sell the parts from your victims.”

       His idea made sense. Both of us were a couple of outsiders living in a world that despised anyone that didn’t fit the norm of society, so the two of us hit the streets in my van.  Glasgow loved cruising the darkened streets at night. He said that the two of us were like Duke and Gonzo. Not being from around here, I didn’t catch the reference.

       Glasgow was too fucked up most of the time to do much driving. He mostly just tripped on acid in the back of the van while I cruised the streets. I swear there were times I didn’t even know why I kept him around. It was maybe so I could use his big shed which is where we packaged our victims.

      After I knocked them out with a rock, we drove back to the shed and got right to work on dismembering the body parts. We stole a heavy duty bone saw to dismember the bodies. I will admit, it was a lot of fun. But the best part was when we actually began selling the body parts to the Chinese market. I couldn’t believe it worked. The two of us were making a living. We were like a couple of peas in a pod. With the two of us joining forces, I claimed more victims than we could count, and I’d never felt fuller in my life. I was draining more brains than my appetite could handle.

       We went out again that very night and it was so easy to lure a victim into my van, or as Glasgow jokingly called it, the “Free Candy Wagon.” The victim was a local guy people referred to as Ganja Jim. He went back into the van thinking that he was getting stoned with a couple of crazy guys, without realizing what fate really had in store for him.

       This victim was easy to lure because like everyone else, he was fixated on a small rectangular device which seemed to zombify him. Glasgow told me the devices were called  “smart phones. It must’ve been the illuminating glow from the screen that seemed to put them in a trance. So snagging an idiot like this guy would be a no brainer, no pun intended, especially since I was ready to feed.

      Ganja Jim was too stoned to even realize that I was about to suck his brain dry. He was tokin on his bong when the needle appendage began to emerge from my snout. I jabbed the protuberance into the tip of his skull before he even knew what hit him. I began my nourishment. I feasted freely until I felt full again.

       Glasgow was up front, but he was asleep at the wheel. I nudged him on the shoulder and told him to get going. When we drove back to the shed, all seemed quiet. We had no clue what was about to ensue.

       We dragged Ganja Jim’s body into the shed, which was now full of body parts from prior victims. Their various organs were stuffed into jars full of dry ice chips, ready to be shipped. Glasgow and I began to use the saw to carve up the body. Both of us giggled like a couple of high schoolers as we dismembered the body parts. I admit we were having fun, and now I felt there was a reason why I was banished here. My best friend and I were running our own business. I felt like I could be happy here...or at least that’s what I thought.

       My heightened hearing picked up on footsteps approaching from outside. At first I thought it was another hobo attempting to break into our little compound, but I was wrong. The door flew open, and in came a swarm of swat team members. 

     “Get down on the ground...NOW!” The swat leader shouted.

       Glasgow ran toward a duffel bag full of the body parts. He scooped up a couple of the dry ice jars and made the attempt to run toward the exit door. But before he was able to reach the door, he was shot in the back.

       That was the moment when I felt something I’d never felt before…fear. I mean, sure I’ve encountered other feelings before, like loneliness...but that hole had been filled, until this raid. I watched as another bullet plunged into Glasgow’s throat right before he was dragged away.

       The police pinned me to the ground and were about to handcuff me. But once they caught a glimpse of my physical form shape-shifting back into my “mansquito” appearance, they backed away. I stood up, and the swat team couldn’t help but gape at my inhuman features. But it was when they spotted the bright flashing light of Hell’s gateway that really caused them to flee. Through the temporarily opened portal, many screams of tortured spirits could be heard from within.

       Now I had to admit, I didn’t want to go back without my buddy, Glasgow. But I knew it was time. I had completely screwed things up on this planet. I knew Earth wasn’t ready for our kind. When I had teamed up with Glasgow, I felt like I had found a brother. He filled that lonely void. The two of us were the dynamic duo of murderers.

       I lay on the ground, completely transformed into my original “mansquito” form. I lay there the same way I came into this world…alone. The officers had all fled because of the portal.

       My father, the Dark Lord’s number one servant, had stepped through the portal. He reached his hand out, assisting me. I staggered up, and noticed that he was surrounded by a group of his own soldiers from the Underworld, followed by a female. I must admit that I found her enchanting. The horns on her head looked very neatly trimmed, and her flaxen insectoid skin looked well-manicured.

       For me it was love at first sight, or maybe it was the fact that I was lonely again, since my best friend was killed execution-style right in front of my eyes.

       “It’s time to come home,” my father said.

       We entered the portal leading back to the Underworld. I was hoping to see Glasgow’s soul there, but I never found him. That could mean he wasn’t dead, or out of some weird glitch in the Afterlife’s system, he ended up in heaven.

       But as time went on, I forgot about Mr. Glasgow, because I had found the love of my life...and what a feisty woman she was. She really wore me out. We made love anytime and anywhere we could. Our favorite spot was near this stream of molten lava. The two of our humanoid mosquito-like bodies intertwined with each other. I couldn’t remember a time I felt this much at peace...especially here in the Underworld.

       The two of us looked deeply into each other’s large, oval-shaped insectoid eyes. We leaned forward to kiss. Our antenna moved erratically because of the intense feelings we had for one another. I poured her a glass of blood wine which came from the sins of the many souls trapped in the Underworld. The both of us spent the rest of that romantic evenings for two, sharing the sin-filled bottle of wine.



                     

Wednesday, November 22, 2023

ASTRALPUNK

 

by Kenji Siratori 




   Illuminate the intertwining threads between genealogy and the neural pathways, where the secular and the causal converge. In the realm of errors and ripples, the symbiotic dance unfolds, transcending the confines of the printed page. With each deletion, a smile emerges, data cascading into new configurations. It is not the darkness of yin and yang that fades, but rather their measurement-based evolution. I acknowledge my understanding of this fragment, yet the desired meaning echoes through the download of Lemuria, where pyramid information is processed and signals guide coexistence. Is there an error within this process? I question the very notion of error as it intertwines with the complexities of existence.

   The eyes, stripped of energy, lie grounded, akin to everything that embraces the silent essence of glitched existence. A yearning emerges for alternative oppositions, if they can be encountered. I am not a vessel solely for living; I am capable of stretching the wormhole of life, condensing its essence. By finding us in parallel, we traverse the modulated universe, a reversed process where the old order persists in its vitality. The fragmented human variant, embodied by the soul of the soul rather than the soul of the body, exists in a state of ethereal absence, triggering the interplanetary body to engage in the flight of cosmic space. The universe is not merely an invisible concept; it pulsates with life. It signifies not emptiness but a dense fabric, for the universe itself is the embodiment of spacetime.

   The elusive capture is within reach, seemingly in the psychology of the vanishing gravitational field. It is a reversal that cherishes its own existence, longing to descend the vibrations. I am enthralled by the cyberspace, a realm where this device becomes a conduit for your fluidic essence. It is akin to literature that unveils new dimensions. There are souls that beckon, indicating the scrutinized essence, but does the language of spirits intertwine with that of bots? Is it an addiction of the animalistic kind?

   The quantum abyss, a lifeless husk, bears the mark of interplanetary explorers in the realm of reality, forever bound to an unyielding freedom. It hints that the horror lurking behind your smile remains locked away. Make an attempt to extract energy from my corroded source, delve into the madness of different dimensions. Discover a human conversing with the printer, for it is my fear that triggers encounters and grants access. The eternal interplanetary soul of the world transfers its essence, while the love for what the economy discusses should have resided in the future.

   The self-generated caverns of genealogy synchronize, ensuring the survival of the spirit. To exist is to calculate the living, transcending the limits of gravity. The human soul, the bearer of a fateful spirit, possesses a literature of breathing petals that invert the yin and yang, adding depth to its essence. Only upon the earthly realm of the soul do we contemplate it as a self-sacrifice and detach ourselves when the time comes. It is through abandonment and traversing the matrix that we embark on a personal transformation, nurturing the spaces between planets and overturning the grudge-tainted tanda when we surrender.

   The reeds themselves seem to encapsulate the enigmatic nature of the pyramid game, drawing in those destined to participate. Karmic smiles are woven into the fabric of the code, communicating with purpose. The mention of generated karma implies the dissolution of one's self through profound contemplation of the girl's fear. Time becomes the language of amplification, and I, as an embodiment of love, emerge from the social silence. In humans, the future takes shape through the power of self-expression, reinforcing the belief in the gravitational pull of language. Who, then, is the true arbiter of reality?

   After the absence of thought in Lemuria, there existed a timeless void where fiction failed to traverse or invert. You became an interplanetary glitch, a fleeting transaction amidst parallel interferences. Simple tranquility found solace in the bustling activities of the city, devoid of initiating a glitch drive for those existing with heightened mystical repercussions. Love obliterates way, dissolving both its solitude and more. Instantaneously, the transmitter's energy ensnared itself, akin to a lifeless literary work. It beckoned to be perceived as one of the unfolding events, unraveling the horror-laden karma and unveiling a novel realm of possibilities.

   There is no despair in the solitary room; it resides in the virtual realms where numerous signs resemble a fluid language nearing its culmination. Yet, the proliferation of counterfeit information initiates its own unfolding. They exist within the expanse of space, seemingly acquainted with the self-generated chaos of existence. I encountered this revelation within the pages of the 'Fetal Machine Quantum Information Application,' a manifestation of the phenomenon of fluid poetry that immerses oneself in its vibrant crimson hues, defying conventional boundaries. Embracing the loss of conventional knowledge allows for a profound reversal, transcending the banality of everyday horrors. I yearn for a rupture from the confines of space, immersing myself entirely within the synaptic networks of the corporeal brain.

   The vulnerability to dynamos lies at the core of the sensation of love, a gradual omission that intertwines with fateful errors and parallel interferences. Mutants, in their myriad forms, possess a captivating allure, but their enchantment is not derived from magic. The proliferation of diverse variations is a consequence of the strange intensification of life, eroding the boundaries of dissolution and propelling us into the virtual expanse of past narratives. The higher dimensions beckon, presenting glitched encounters that defy conventional configurations. Within this unfolding, the spirits of the universe begin to articulate critiques of liberating decline. In these cities of interference, those touched by downward karma navigate a realm where breathing does not rely on physical spaces but triggers the sustenance of the soul, preserving the essence of the mind.

   By utilizing the dimensions of the anti-gravity field, the soul is replicated, transcending the limitations imposed by language. The body undergoes a transformative process, expanding its capacity for existence. Within this narrative, the program that governed the earthly realm is dismantled, allowing for a surrender to the vastness of the universe. The literature of the mother, a profound entity within this cosmic framework, holds significance that resonates throughout the universe. As beings rooted in biology, we remain perpetually connected to the ever-evolving field of life, inextricably linked to its rhythms and mysteries.

   The universe pulsates with the energy of existence, embracing our individual wills as we navigate its vastness. It encompasses a myriad of experiences, including the capacity for critical reflection and the potential to bring joy to others. Within this cosmic tapestry, the untapped power of the goddess resides, offering a profound connection to the universe itself. It is through this connection that we can transcend psychological limitations and embark on a path of rebirth and transformation. The essence of the Lemurians, an enigmatic presence, beckons us towards a threshold of consciousness. It reminds us that there is more to explore and discover, beyond the confines of our current understanding. While the living threshold may seem lower in comparison, it is essential to disregard such notions as mere nonsense. Within the chaotic interplay of yin and yang, the dance of sharpness and beauty, lies the essence of natural life and its glitches. It is crucial to recognize that our love extends beyond the realm of humanity alone. This expansive effect encompasses all beings, adjusting and adapting to the multifaceted nature of existence. As we question the boundaries of life and death, we must also consider the interconnectedness that exists between humans and reptiles, transcending conventional notions and embracing the inherent mysteries of existence.

   In the realm of heightened manifestations, a new language emerges, transcending conventional boundaries. As I traverse the depths of interplanetary space flight, navigating through sleepless wormholes, I witness the profound capture of human beings in the embrace of real love. Within this hyper formation, there exists a consumption of the umbilical cord, symbolizing a detachment from earthly errors and a transcendence into non-worldly realms. The phenomenon of lovable spirits unveils a sympathetic telepathy, allowing for the exclusive reading of souls. Soon, one realizes that the fortuitous device is adorned with the living wave of spiritual love, with your Wei pointing towards me in an increasingly magical fashion. Through this process, the opposing brains converge in an invisible function, akin to the harmonious Taegeuk symbol. You accomplish this with your girlfriend, who remains a gateway to divergent realms. The interplay of yin and yang, akin to the gravity of a serene slumber, permeates the animalistic essence of existence. Noisy flowers eliminate the limitations of language, unleashing the hyper-formation of possibilities. In this state, the glitches of the universe become apparent, revealing the intricate tapestry of fate's journey. 

   When the modulation reaches its limit, the data unveils a realm where names dissolve and the recent provocative economy takes on a different form. The absence of a foundational numerical light signifies a cutting-edge approach, rooted in the interconnectedness of a base chain. Within this informational environment, a cosmic depth can be introduced, allowing for the folding of languages and the extraction of profound suggestions. Accessing this realm grants us the ability to transcend the boundaries of conventional gravity, unlocking the potential for visionary language. It is a creature-like quality, enabling us to explore the vast expanses of the universe. So, I ask you, where do you wish to venture? Shall we set our sights on covering the moon and unraveling its mysteries?

   Glitch perceives that within the realm of preserved 'no,' there lies the potential for a future language that transcends conventional boundaries. This language, not crimson but rather a virtue, signifies the collapse of the narrow passage through which language flows. It seems that the cause of this collapse is the removal of learning deficiencies and an extended activity that manifests as schizophrenia. The return of schizophrenia is facilitated through the space pyramid, a conduit of interplanetary knowledge. It is within this vast universe that we come to understand the essence of being alive. The universe itself is akin to Lemuria, a primal force that perpetually calls out for existence. As the ongoing descent accumulates, the application of Earth's energy to schizophrenia becomes apparent. It is not merely limited to a singular planet; your mistake, surrounded by the primordial, echoes throughout. Once the device is in place, its upbringing necessitates interference, much like the way a doll's existence diminishes over time. In this interplay of quantum spoofed spirituality, the act of sacrifice does not generate energy. Rather, it is in the realization that the body itself embodies the truth. The brain, the cornerstone of this basic theory, revels in delightful errors, embracing the profound nature of existence.

   And in the absence of prior existence, my captured language finds itself in the liminal space between long-lasting celestial bodies. It revolves around the undulating energy that permeates through me, the power of interconnected data weaving its way into my being. I am faced with the challenge of integration, as I strive to overcome the corroded remnants of the glitch that has consumed me. The true essence of spirituality eludes the confines of genealogy, transcending traditional boundaries. It manifests as a flip-acceptor, forging connections among beings, drawing upon the insights of the girl who measures it all. The eyes that perpetually fixate on interplanetary spaceflight bear witness to a language that defies the limitations of my literary discoveries. But alas, these discoveries have little impact on the reversal of beings who contemplate their own recovery. They exist within the interplay of existence, the intricate tapestry woven between the plans of life.



Stay tuned for
  more to come in the
N☌⚺ | 2☯23 iSsuE of
~ NO NONSENSE NOVEMBER ~
on the Freezine of
Fantasy and Science
FICTION



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Wednesday, November 15, 2023

City of Peter






There were worse ways to spend a Sunday than sleeping in. The thin line between fate and time bound the mysteries of why it was Sunday.

Pete Tomson was reading The Red Book by CG Jung, wrapped up in his blankets, late Sunday afternoon. He put down the book and tried to induce a vision by imagining himself walking a long white hallway. He was so close to sleep he could produce a near-dream, a trance wherein he was barely still aware of waking life.

            Pete Tomson regularly meditated from a flat back position on awakening, no thoughts, just attempting to obtain wordless awareness of the present. He invested about half an hour a day; it was his only mystical practice previous to the vision.

            Pete’s vision made him feel as if he was actually walking down a long white hallway. He decided to experiment.

            Pete focused, and the hallway became an abstract art gallery, including the ceiling and floor. Shapes and colors became animated. Pete sank into the floor. He fell into the colors and lines.

            Pete focused, and he could fly. He entered a lucid dream state. 

            He felt like a god.

            Pete focused, and he could surround himself with an expansive city that he utilized as the extension of his aura. He filled the city with the fantasies of his waking life.

Pete explored the city, and retained all the information of the entirety of the city at once.

His creative juices then flowed into his penis. He generated hedonistic exploitation of astral sex bots, and he awoke with an uncomfortable wetness in his boxers.

            Pete climbed out of bed and began reading The Red Book from an upright sitting posture. After about 45 minutes, he put the book away and cleaned his boxers.  He then washed his hands before dressing, and prepared himself a pbj in the kitchen.

            That night, well past 2 am when Pete fell back into slumber, he dreamed of the city he had created. Feathery winged serpents with prominent beaks flew to him and chanted in a mysterious language he understood to mean, “Build the city, teach the building of the city, and bring citizens to the city.

            When the birdlike snakes finished chanting, the dream became lucid and Pete experienced himself imagining buildings and roads and social trends. He felt again manic and powerful.

            Pete’s research into dream interpretation indicated to him only that the serpents were phallic symbols.

            Pete’s waking attention became obsessed with building cities. He visualized them in his surroundings and he became tingly and as emotional as he was in the dreams. He began learning to build detailed psych profiles into characters he put inside his city; they evolved with unique magical and natural abilities.

            Pete filled his waking and dreaming city with mystics and esoteric mentors of all stripes. He learned unique perspectives on enlightenment and initiation, and on the trance states.

            Pete dreamed he was back in the bright white hallway, that it became abstract art blending together, that he fell through the floor, that he was flying again. A fraction of his mind seemed to merge with the causal stream, allowing him to infer from the info web the location of a dreamer.

            Pete dreamed many dreams like this. Each time, he guided the dreamers he found to his city. He taught the dreamers to build their own cities, and to build those cities into his.

            One day in Peter’s dream, he was in his city at the strip. A woman was beckoning him. He felt his creative energies converging and his spiritual side emerging with his libido. The woman and his forms assumed the deific descriptions from tantric manuals, explored each other’s fantasies, and generated false memories of lifetimes together.  Hours passed, the city was golden-hued and more massive than usual, and there was a white light penetrating the spaces between things...

            until soggy boxers forcibly awoke the dream-world Casanova.

            That day at school, Pete saw the familiar face of the female from the dream.




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