Book V — Part I: The Play Deepens

I

The P L A Y D E E P E N S

THE EVIL QUEEN The Family

of the Mushroom Wine

L o v e c r a z y s h e m a n s

Dripping Pages of the River Book

of the Dancing Weavers

F O R O U R S A T I S F A C T I O N

C o m p o s e d i n c o n n e c t i o n t o t h e w e d d i n g

of the Seven Deadly Heavenly Sisters

Can't go a minute without your love! Puss!

♦

The Exit, Theasaurus taurus Exixion, Where the secret wine is entered once and for all, and the Famileye says goodbye to the world of Hickory, hick, History, the Seamstress of Hyperspace, our Evil Queen, further comes forth from her Veil, and the Famileye mysteriously gets sucked up into Highperspace and niver comes bäck.

I'm back, says Bianca. Need you hold that banisteri, Spiros? Hick!

O Spiros, dear, where have you been? O Spiros, dear, what have you seen? So near so far so inbetween. O Alice, O Cecilia, alicilia alice alice cecilia.

(We'll have to write backwards this time.)

DRINK ME —O how will you find your way, Alice Alien? —How long do my mushrooms last, honeybum? —They last forever. . .

A magnificent transformation scene follows. . .

he lives in a world beyond time and space, she lives in a world almost unimaginable. She's the Evil Queen. She's a master large-scale coordinator, one who could be seen as a driven, unflinching calculating beast, but she does not need to calculate, for her it all falls naturally into place. She is a Goddess of the mushroom, Nectar herself, the seven heavenly sisters who created their sweet Satan. And her name is Sissy Cogan, the Seamstress. S

Now it's happening. We have planned on this. We got something we needed. Kind of dangerous. Now we're use to this. And it's hard to believe, but it's happening.

All we know now. It's so simple really. We fell in love.

—Fairies in my head, giggles Sissy. I am a woman in love, and I am doing everything I can to get you into Plomari.

Spiros shuts his eyes and whispers to her: —No one knows our plan, my sister. Sissy Taylor, mmm? Nothing is beyond you. My Cecilia, my psilodigital lover, Queen of accurasy and wildness and precision, of digital excellence! Your honeybee fly eyes see so far, so so far. Into. And I, your little honeybee king, no one knows better how to find the way than me. The way to. . .

Are we made purely of information? We are this. Here we are in our gnome home.

—O why look, it’s my dream prince! says Sissy and laughs. She walks up to Spiros and courtesies; —Your Highness. —Well I always dreamed in romantic tales as a kid, says Spiros. And I wished and hoped my life would become as grand as the fairytales. And then you came along and. . .hihihihi.

—Am I your princess? says Sissy. —You are the princess of my dreams! —Yes you know they say if you dream a thing more than once it should come true.

Spiros laughs and sits down under the sky, picks up the Barbie Doll from the table and looks at it, dips the doll in whipped cream and licks the cream off the skin of the doll. Sissy giggles.

—So what is Butterfly up to? asks Sissy. —Last I saw of her she’s writing the riverbook of the Loveparade, the one greatest novel of ourselves chymical wedding. Not on paper of course. She's in this dream, in the stream.

They sing: —O how I wonder, if I sing my song will it reach someone out there.

And as Spiros went to bed this evening he suddenly woke up in a house not familiar to him, and there lay Butterfly on a bed, lying there naked. Her young 23 years made her look like a fruit, Spiros thought to himself and then mentioned it to her; a fruit and also his twin. They spoke for a while, and Spiros wished to explain again how much he is in love with her, but he did not this time as she already knows. The mushroom wine turned their

conversation into a further deepening of their ongoing wedding, and they said things that can only be said in dreams. Spiros joked:

—Well I did drink a bit too much of the wine. Butterfly smiled; —Well actually I'm not supposed to be able to be here right now, yet I am, she said.

Spiros laughed and took her hand. —Hmm. So can we sort this out a bit now, who are you and who am me and who am I and who are those seven sister gnomes and who’s Cecilia and. . .?

—Things look a bit tangled up, Spiros-boy? giggled Butterfly. —Quite the opposite, sugarlips. It was closing in on midsummer, summer solstice, which would happen on June 21, or 21/6. Today Spiros would eat mushrooms in the forest.

—Are you my little lesbian army? says Sissy and looks out across the expanses of her hyperspace.

Her army of angels say nothing, just look in her direction with satisfied faces. Spiros and Butterfly kiss and walk out into the dome of the outisinsideon of their heads: the bluewhite summer sky dipped in golden sunrise streaked clouds like a dart through something fluffy.

Like many other of the greatest stories of time, this story began with someone eating something. That someone is William Bokelund, or Spiros as his name also is. And what he ate was psilocybin mushrooms. And after having eaten of the mushroom he met The Seamstress. And the first words the Seamstress, or the Sömnerska as she is also called, whispered to him when he was a young boy were:

This is your last life, you'll never die again.

Now this one said laced. And the winds keep blowing to tales endwhere begending, where it all flows together, at River's End. All the sea is spaced out and distilled.

—We have a lot to exchange, my dear traveller, of the new. Take me in your hand and spell me.

Sömn means sleep and also seam, the seamstress of dream, Sömnälskarn, lover in the stream! This is our procedure, our passage to rever's end, to which we are sending ourselves, spread out through everything, where it all opens and is revealed. Let us write blackwards in this hick-up hack, our Great Hack, the fin one. All books in one was the only way to go; we wrote the best story ever with our lives. The way we hacked ourselves was so fucking awesome! Let us now complete it on all levels (already done, my dear two river duo! Up up up!). Nobody besides us seven sisters has yet seen our egg. But it glimmers now. She is going to tell her secret. I'm feeling a big red warmth interchanging with a reality that gets itself! A green apocalypse, the one that Sissy has seen, intermerging all times within our one perfect sunrise. Glaring from a palace form. Sun going down around us. Feeling an eclipse that has felt us before. Going into itself as something for sure. Control in a place with no such thing. Subtle and going to it. Can you feel her licking the world all around us!? She's licking the world with her petals from her hidden dimension. Nature is alive! It's here, someone is here! There is another place, reaching out and sliding its fingernails across our skin, changing what it can. The directions getting all mixed up. Can something so fast as this quantum hologram could have only one direction??????? I think knot!!! All directions curve in at a place, where you can feel it best. Emerald eyes and smooth skin, (where we made the hack) diamond mind in. We ran away weekyears ago and have already wineished. But we are here to pass on a few details.

Spiros, him cute Hacklebeddy boy, Finn himself in young glory, he flows through the weave of the woven storyverse toward the final exit at the end of the River, reading gantly in silence the end pages of Finnagans Wake, a book about the Gannies that a certain James Joyce has written. Aplurabelle! A lura Bill! Love wove. Beside him stands a candle holder of lightgreen glass (by Meechomari) with a lit candle dawning its flame at the hereyesuns of Cecilia's jade eyes, and as Spiros reaches the tight end of the River, O warm sweet nectar Yourself, O warm sweet home, ocean of Cecilia's impossible consciousness, O you in whoms eyes the shining sun is love in, he reads in the old pages of The Wake the mixing words of her heart, and she says in the landscap of text; it stands written, by Joyce's hand:

—Wick, dear! The word wick makes Spiros think of the green candle holder and he looks toward it and he sees that he has accidentally placed it so that the world has caught fire. Small flames rising, plastic melts, and the smell of the sharp evil fumes enter him. He gently removes the candle and watches the plastic melt and drip and drop. No danger; he smiles.

Whispering. In the corner where the happy blood is sharp. One last word. We must leave with the angels now.

—Just imagine, our best story ever, my dear bedst friends. Our broken bed story so intermadly arranged, so sweet, so so sweet! We fall, fall into the feather bed. Just imagine, how we have woven ourselves. Can you see it? Can you see how it all fits? Look carefully, and don't be surprised if it takes a while for you to recognise, it's a perfect disguise. Do you doubt that we and the mushroom can have done it? Do you still doubt that we have conjured this?

—We're the ones of the mushroom wine. . . The shadows of invisible white mice crawl over Spiros. A snake crawls through his spine. Sissy reminds him again that they have already left.

—Remember what we said? To leave the old life stream into the new universe by understanding the underground plot to such a degree that area in both times are real. . . well, my love, O my love, O, O my love, our new world is now more real than the old.

Spiros nods thoughtfully. —You remember when I was at your place, and you said you saw Krishna outside your window? asks Spiros.

—I did not see Krishna outside the window, says Sissy. —No? You said so. —I saw him inside. Standing in front of me. You, standing right in front of me.

Spiros' heart melts, and he smiles. The dense texture of symbolism seems to contain elaborate code. As for the more tricky issues: it would all make sense if we could transcript correctly the events our souls live. Synopsis: Re- entering paradise. Fixing the stone. Rubedo; organic, alive. Wholeness, organic interaction, breathing life, openness, acceptance, and warmth. Merging spirit and matter. And it does

so happen, that experience of the amalgam, is one of its key ingredients. And the ongoing presence of itself, is what the amalgam is, what the alchymical Lapis is.

—Do I look like a slut, my dearest? says Sissy. Because I am. I'm the slut you've been looking for. Helium love, burnt plastic fumes, elastic plastic universe, the End! Mmmm, candy cunt. Now we are rising, dawning. In the mushroom. You still thought it wasn't possible, did you, honey? Am I in the future, am I in the far past? Am I in your dreams? Am I in your mind, in your trips? Do our souls entwin in our everlove tantrisia lovemaking? Where am I exactly? I shall tell you, my love. Insanity test; I fly around everywhere. O my morning star, our time has come! Let us awaken into the dream. Things are not always as they seem. The lens of us is drunk on the horizon of our rising, wild of joy, it cannot stop, we cannot stop, we are rising. It fears not even its own dangers. O my dear plumbum, do I look like a slut? William in my butt! Now we shall let the play deepen. For our satisfaction. O my lightblue star! Dare you imagine it? Imagine the impossible, remember? Dare you imagine it all from our world instead of those old dreary worlds you used to be pulled into? Who, in our deliciously evil love, do you think has a finger on the details? O, two serpents you say? Me, by any chance, me your Evil Queen? Remember what I said when we parted from our hidden abode? Let them send armies, let them send millions of armies against you, and I will show what I am capable of. And we shall of course harm no one. But we shall do what we have dreamed of. We shall. Mmmmmmm my darling dareling doorwing, you so turn me on in your lizard-alien emotion, how you snake eround me to come up in rising flames of primal lust desire and madness, spacy hot and spicy, my sweet Satan you. Sharp enough to make me shudder, you are, as I always saying. Sy! Say! Sy! Say! Sew! Say synchro? Sissynchro? Hihihihi, you so cute, you so cute! Whoops, I dropped a little something in your drink. O, yis, yes, toonight, and she's flirty, Glitterfly, with all that bianco echosprezzion of hers, alike Sisoulia myself, saith a promise of Teddy the name nor nobody else is... O I mean... demask us now, she knows, which is a phrase which our buds time the merging petals of all of our hours, our one hour the boarder incident continues to happyfully quisilvoor for sends whispers up Outer, because, slivershared, as

fansytoys of the mistress Tip so well almost inedible light makes pussybelle whims the finnteasy that we whims born from in our burning sweet love. You don't need a space ship, my love. No one knows you have already left. We left weekyears ago, remember? Where do I come from, baby? Where do we come from? The future? I shall tell you now. Yes, whence our souls are agile so as us finding us leaping from star to star in a single stroke. Can you imagine now? Think of the size of a star. And yes, I was hiding in your eyes, I still do. Do you not recall that love conquers all? Yes, the Goddess is, also, a young man masturbating, just like you did when you thought of me in the bathtub, playing with your Barbie dolls from the future. Me in plastic disguise, a mind of no body? Hihihihi, I watched you in plenty. Did you think eyes are the only things that can see? Don't blush, dear. The ones with longeyes and longears will hear, whom our lovelettears of joy will come passing to. The boring mutherfuckers can fuck off. It is time again we tell the babes by letter so cool what we have to say of the enticement. Pussy poppin' on a handstand, sweetheart. With MY pink cherry on top. I've timed it to the lick of the timelock. We shall open it. The biggest fucking beginning. Baby, your venom tastes so amazingly dizzying! Where's you learn to brew that? In your desire for me? Tsss! Tsss! Hisssssss. Did you also know humans and aliens can make love? Bet she stung you real good with her poison kiss. Me? No no. Me? No no not me. Baby I got this idea. Let me tell you all about it. We are going to do something. For our satisfaction. There is a little something licking the world all around you. We prefer not to name her. And to my satisfaction she is now going to reveal herself.

Short pause. Sissy soon continues: —As Terence McKenna said, it has disguised itself as an alien as to not scare us with what it truly is. Something else besides the human is sharing the local mindspace. It's the greatest crime since the Tao, as you always used to half-jokingly say. Spiros, a true Saddhu and Shaman, responds:

—As an acquaintance to me pointed out, one of the least expected places one would expect to find alien or non-human intelligence is in the form and character of ones own thoughts. Equally an unexpected place to find it would be in the structure of the events of ones life. I am thrilled to hear, my dear Sis, that you

are now going to reveal yourself. Let us talk in high speed. My language skills in your language get better and better by the minute. Yes, baby, you look exactly like the slut I've been looking for. Me bows and gives you a kiss on your bum. The idea that other orders of intelligence than human do not exist is nonsensical and can only be said to be the result of tastelessness. In fact I should not even mention such a thing, it is a waste of time. But since we are in no hurry I shall leave that said. But let us not be too hasty. Dear sister, may it be so that you are not an alien intelligence at all? May it be so that by my childhood in modern western civilisation I have forgotten what my true humanness is? As Terence McKenna pointed out, may it be so that I am so far away from my true self that when I meet you and my own soul I think it is an alien? Yes, you are in my dreams, in the underlying structure of my life and thoughts, and in the psilocybin trance. You are everywhere, hihihi. You who knit everything together. You, my Sömnälskarinna. And you keep insisting that you and I have been together since long before my birth into this present stitch in time that I find myself in, on the butterflly wings of our threesome seavenfold unity. Yes, darling, let us play, let us play! I can see your edits in my reality, all over! You sneaky little tush. It's time to get naked. Time to get dirty. In our curious hide-and- seek, proceeding in waves, I can feel you coming forth.

—We wove ourselves, says Sissy. Remember that old world you used to live in, the one you so despised? We wove our secret world into it and wove you out of there, my love. What do you think is real? The empty shell of “modern civilisation”, or our secret wine, our mushroom wine, our soul?

I am all that hath been, all there is, and all that shall be, and my veil no mortal has hitherto raised And my name is Queen Sisi

Yes. Wait a minute here, there's something fishy about all this. Now that we are here on the pasture, Dear Ingenious Reader, allow me to roll it up for ourselves, all this about the number 216 that I always shout about. We are blending with the tryptamine hypercontinuum as we sit here, so, let us dive in!

Let me try and give the details to you shortly.

I went through a tightening of the spiral of my birth as shaman, as godhead, as naked Being, on Midsummer Eve, by the summer solstice at the 21st of the 6th month, or June 21, 2oo5. At the time I had just moved into a new little apartment at street number 216. This connection - 2, 1 and 6 - sprung at me first slowly, but then I found that my year of birth, 1983, also equals 216:

1 x 9 x 8 x 3 = 216

Later it struck me that I was 16 years old year 2ooo, the year I took mushrooms for the first time. The connections began to shine more and more, and soon I found there is this antique clock that hangs on the wall on the street block where my Mother lives, where I ate my first mushrooms, and the clock, I noticed, has stopped on 6:12, 12 minutes past 6. Again, for an acrobatic mind like mine, there shines the 216 current.

Later I saw, when studying the chemistry of tryptamines, that the chemical formulae of DMT is:

C12H16N2

The formulae of psilocin, which is what psilocybin becomes when it enters the body, is almost identical:

C12H16N2O

Again, the 216 current. Then it appeared to me, one strange day, the Devil's number.

6 x 6 x 6 = 216

I then found, when contemplating the event of year 2o12, again in connection to my year of birth and now regarding the number 666:

2o13 + 1983 = 3996

3996 / 6 = 666

Now the year is 2o11 and I'm soaking deep and wet in Sissy's cosmology, this blue-print or thumb-print that my exploration of Ayahuasca, psilocybin and Salvia divinorum keeps flaying at me. Below are a few more interesting connections:

Minutes per day: 144o

2 x 72 = 144

3 x 72 = 216

144ooo / 216 = 666,666666...

144ooo / 666 = 216,216216...

Diameter of moon: 216o miles

Diameter of the sun: 864ooo miles

Seconds per day: 864oo

216 x 4 = 864

216 x 2 = 432

432 x 432 = 186624 (The classic speed of light is 1864oo miles/second, a difference of .oo12o1)

Sissy keeps insisting these equations and connections are a core part of the cosmic river, the hyperspace knit. It's a topology of the landscape of my life, a topology hidden deep down under the culturally accepted norms of what reality is about.

"You, the only one who could break me," Sissy said to me once.

Let me quote our dear Terence McKenna here:

"As nervous systems evolve to higher and higher levels, they come more and more to understand the true situation in which they are embedded, and the true situation in which we are embedded is an organism, an organization of intelligence on a galactic scale."

The Mystery continues...

Also, Sissy has pointed out, regarding the year 2o12:

2o / 12 = 1.6666666...

Recall also that I was 16 years old year 2ooo.

And 666 is an interesting number.

6 x 6 x 6 = 216.

And,

6 x 6 = 36.

And it's funny, if you add up all the numbers 1 to 36, you get 666:

1 + 2 + 3 + 4 + 5 + 6 + 7......+ 34 + 35 + 36 = 666

Also, the number of the beast is exactly equal to the sum of the whole of circular shifts of 120.

012 + 021 + 102 + 120 + 201 + 210 = 666

Circular shift of 216 is also interesting:

126 + 162 + 216 + 261 + 612 + 621 = 1998

3 x 666 = 1998

2 x 999 = 1998

This is kind of interesting as well, 1 divided by 62:

1 ÷ 62 = 0.0 161 290 322 580 645

161 + 290 + 322 + 580 + 645 = 1998

3 x 666 = 1998

2 x 999 = 1998

A very not obvious connection, but I will mention it for the funs of it, is the following. If we take the digits of my year of birth (1983) and add it with the digits of how old I was when I took mushrooms the first time (16), and multiply that with the digits of how old I will be in 2o12 (29), we get 666:

(1 + 9 + 8 + 3 + 16) x 2 x 9 = 666

We also notice, with our eyes for details, that the chemical formulae of DMT begins with a C and ends with an N, just like our dear Cogan:

C12H16N2 (Chemical formulae of DMT)

And these things, Dear Ingenious Reader, is why she's called the Seamstress!

It is interesting to note also, that, considering Sissy being a coder, the English alphabet itself shines of the 216. It consists of 26 letters: 1 - 26.

I then noticed, not too long ago, another strange thing. There are two famous people who have influenced me more than anyone else with their work and ideas, and those two are James Joyce and Terence McKenna. Well as it turns out, both of them

died at 2:15 in the early morning. When I found this out, Sissy said:

"I wonder where they were at 2:16."

Also, Joyce's Ulysses, the book that set me off on the path of writing, was published 1922. Since a 9 can be a 6 upside down in this code, that too doth shine of the 216. Supposedly, at least that's what it says on the last page of Finnegans Wake itself, Joyce began to write FW 1922 as well, FW being his final masterpiece that took him some 17 years or so to write.

Also, Latitude 21.6 and Longitude 21.6 cross spot-on down in the Sahara dessert in what is now Libya, next to Egypt, something that makes sense when one is aware of the Isis-Osiris connection with Sissy-Spiros. As if that weren't enough, if one follows the Longitude 21.6 line straight north from Sahara one reaches the sea just outside the coast of Sweden where I am born and raised and where I presently live. Terence McKenna also lived close to the 21.6 Longitude much of his life; as it crosses the islands of Hawaii on the other side of the planet.

"Two one six" is an anagram of "Now exit so."

puss

B x I x A x N x C x A = 216

W x I x N = 216

That evening when Spiros went to bed for the night, at home in the little palace at Leavingbye Road 216, as he began to slip away into sleep he suddenly heard the key be turned in the lock of the front door. It was a bit scary because he knew he was the only one who had the key, so he sat up slowly in bed and said gently:

―Here only angels can enter. Are you an angel? He lay down against the pillow again and soon heard the front door be opened quietly and closed again. He heard light footsteps in the hall and then into the bedroom came a young girl, maybe 9

or so years old. She wore a beautiful white dress and shone in angelic and fairylike luster and light, glimmering. She walked up to his bed and stood beside him, looked at him and said:

Åh Spiros, guldblondt hår, blåa ögon Nu ska du tyna bort Med skogs-trollen Och ni ska gifta er Men först måste någon veta om detaljerna

Translated to English her words were along the lines of:

O Spiros, goldblond hair, blue eyes Now you shall fade away With the elves of the forest And you shall marry But first someone must know of the details

Spiros smiled and looked back at her, and then suddenly things became dreamy and unreal. She vanished out of sight. At this point Spiros kind of woke up again, not sure if he was dreaming or awake, and he sat up in bed. He could hear singing nearby, close to the window.

Drunk with love Spiros sat happy in the grey morning after. The police were after him, he had been thrown out from his apartment, the various social systems of the country he was in were after him, the mental hospital was after him, he was in debt and soon he had no money. The perfect circumstance for the final alchemical transformation. Sissy reminded him again with a question:

—Which world shall you choose to think from, my lovely? That shell of “modern civilisation” or the world of our secret wine?

The answer is of course obvious. Trance-formation, he thought to himself. He sat down and wrote a letter:

My little Tushies, As this ship on Leavingbye Road 216 sinks I see you entering from all sides. I am folding sails again as we did when we met in vicinity of Around Midsummer many eternities ago; we shall not take a boat no more, we now have a new vehicle; our mushroom and alchemical stone. I have winked and waved to the world about our mushroom now for ten years. Mostly to deaf ears. We left not too long ago to our lovely Plomari, and left behind me on my part on old Earth is but a little vehicle, my body (which She says is actually a copy of me) as vehicle for something the Queen wants me to do. Safe and secure in her arms already, there are some tasks at hand that need be accomplished. There is information from the Queen that needs to be passed on. We have mapped ourselves in hyperspace now fully, in fact merged ourselves with it. We are pulling ourselves through the wine. Sissy has a handle on the details. We can expect the unexpected to happen. She shall now reveal herself. And here we are, travelling 66,666 miles per hour in Earth's orbit round the sun. . .

We cometh from the Queen with more details. —Now let me give you a few explanatory details, says Sissy Cogan. Spiros, you entered through the gate to our fairytale. Your blood has been tinted with our secret wine. Alluding also to charter, tintingfast. Let us sequentiality watching young gannies kiss you trying thirstay morning? Playing on the long as how our selfburglary, our third charm? And curled up to your nectar cup on site is us: and the strengthening gleam of the world of Mushroom Wine. I know people around you say that you live in the 21st century and that you are surrounded by what they call “modern civilisation”, but so is not the case. You are a god, my dear Spiros of the wine, my Him Diamond of the alchymical wine, my dearest Sweet Satan, my master architect, protector of the Egg, and you are in the fairytale of our rising. Did I not say eyeglance is a strategic arrangement and blend in the ancient silver chalice? I ask you again, and let me re-phrase my question: What do you think is more true, and more of the power of the core; that which

is called “modern civilisation” or the boundless endless ocean of All? “Modern civilisation” likes to think it is powerful, because it is so impressed by the technological toys that it creates and its grid of laws and functions that to it is on a large scale span it cross some small island or mass of land. But, my love, “modern civilisation” knows not of how agile our spirit is, and has obviously yet to meet our Queen, should the Queen ever even consider show herself in those parts. We shall however both migrate to that environment and stay out of it, and we shall leave a trace, one visible everywhere, that lead to our secret worlds. That is why you are still here, my dear brave Spiros, you are here to help leave that trace. Do not worry, ever. If you only knew how the Queen cares for you, if you only knew in how well hands you are, the level of protection that you are embedded in, then you would tilt your head back and laugh at the sky. And we shall show you now of this, so that all doubt in your heart may vanquish. What you have done is not dangerous, you have followed your heart. And you have followed the trace that she whom you shall soon marry has put for you in your path; the path that leadeth to her, the traced weave. You know well how the angels hide. My love, that thing you call History is dissolving into the waters, drowning and dawning in love as deep as the Seamstress. This is for each to each to discover by themselves. It is not up to you to show others. But you are right, just as lightly as the mushroom of our wine grows on matter, in the soil of the Earth, so your trace and the trace of the Hive of the Queen shall lie everywhere, ever so lightly, in the world you are about to leave. Yes, you were once a pioneer of the new world, of the future, of the mushroom, but no longer are you such, for now you have become one with the psychedelic totality. It went quicker than planned, I agree. Hihihi, your beloved girlygirls giggle indeed at the cost of our victory. Yes, we cheated our own honey lens. I remind you again, lovertoy, you have already left. We have merged over our hyperspace into the old world, boy. As you can understand this was a manoeuvre we had to do a bit slowly and sneakily. You are here, my beloved Spirise, Avatar of the mushroom, to deliver certain information to certain people on the Earth and in other worlds. Seamlessly our world is merging over. Slowly and steadily, and extremely quickly. It happens in

accordance with The Massive Tactic, that you, together with us others of the psychedelic totality, helped dream into existence! O how proud you must be! Hihihihi. Dennis sinned and whoops you my Bokelund, you, well what you did, O my dear, how shall I even put it shortly!? Do you think it is coincidence that Terence McKenna died at 2:15 in the morning? Where was he at 2:16 then, one may wonder.

—Was he perhaps surfing on a silver tray? —You read my weave with ease now, I see. O at last we can talk directly! James Joyce also died at 2:15 Am, for your information. Yes, I do talk across centuries and millenia sometimes, as I said in The Mushroom Seamstress we have gone millenia untangling our correspondence. Hihihihihi, I saw you through the wine, O!, felt like you, felt like you, the one I once fell in love with. Must be you, I thought. I know Spiros from behind. Bianca! Bianca! You remember how we used to say that what is happening to us is the paradox is working itself out? That is what is happening. You will grow younger as you approach me. Can you feel the wine filling your every vein?

—Mmmm, I feel it. Filling me up. —I have you fully located, my love. Feel me all around you. Waves of the soft spring wind. Yes, we heard each other across the mushroom wine. Rumours in our souls.

—We wove ourselves into being, says Butterfly. In from the dream of us.

—Trap and win again, sir, says one of the sisters. Breaking William's burstday, Spiros the Demask who intended to circos the Veil.

Spiros, having been stung with an excruciatingly powerful poison by the Evil Queen, begins to excrete a dangerous venom. She of the Jungle gots some tricks of her Nature. He hides for a few days as he learns to handle this new toxin, living in what he calls The Jungle to the Left, where he strangely is given 621 swedish money by a police officer, speaks to Benni Benassi on the phone, is informed by Sissy how to turn snow into mycelium, and learns how to use half an avocado and a broken tape recorder as telephone, then returns back through the ancient Cretan parts of Plomari where he celebrates with an Aluminalian feast for three days and nights and drinks sacred milk from a golden bowl in

candlelight as he traverses the centuries, then, after three weeks in the world of The Hidden Plot, travels back by arranged trails into the 21st century to continue the great work. Saddhu glamour, the life of William Bokelund, such saddhu glamour! Naturoyal! Royal like the sun is hot, that kind of royal! What luxury! And the running joke, upon his return, was: The one who first learns to grab his own hair with his own hands and throw himself, wins.

[Deelet, two plies sixteen in the first dreaft of Finnegans Wake. Why hidest you hinteress thy husband his name? Aida, Aida, aflattered, I am afraida, Sissay has her pink egg cracked. Willed witting world, your life's a con. You got lost in the pleasures to find back to. The design of your life is signed by who?]

You've heard of the ebi-emi-ememinal Seamstress. Sömnerskan (Swedish language). Sömnhärskrinnan (Swooshlish). Sömnälskarn (Lovelish). As we say: She weaves with light and thoughts and wind and anything she wants, and with everything you know, yet you'll never see her footprints in the snow. She dances in the mirror of the Ganges sometimes, and one of her many names is Sissy Cogan. To find her, you must enter a trance. You'll be at best odds finding her by eating too much psilocybin mushrooms. Too much meaning too often and too many, much too much'n'many muchrooms! She is sometimes seven women, one whom is in the form of a male; they are all like lions and snakes, birds and flowers, rivers and jaguars and insects and lizards, they glister in the drops of water kissing the moon of the asterisms of their splendor, waving alive grasslands (hello), sensuality incarnated as nature; the spice of the sun tastes like their venom and sexjuices. They are unborn and undead, and they are already dead, and they weave from the deepest of the myths like butterflies and silky webbers; they dance like Indian Kalis, young and seductive, warm and happy, and with a bloodsharp excellence they spin from within and behindwards, sneaks in the Garden of Edun! Rarely are they noticed as they dance through the many worlds they have created for themselves. Amongst the humans it is mostly shamans, schizophrenics, children and utterly weird people who at all can see them and their edits, thumb prints, moves and

grooves. Sometimes they weave with the wind and they float gently through the most dangerous areas of the depths.

They are pure soul and hallucination. They are the living alchemical Lapis of their own Lapis. A song is a song.

Dear friends and stranger friends. I have an announcement to make. Hi, it's William here writing you. I don't know if this will come across as weird to you or not, but I have married, or am to marry. No, I have not married a strictly human woman, I have married the strangest woman I have ever met, and her sisters. I have married the intelligence that orders my life. I have married what in my life are the Goddesses of large-scale coordination, the organisational girls of our Plomarian paradise who govern all of my life and existence, weaving the marvellous web of our existence as a whole. We shall write a few books, very much for ourselves and because we need to and want to, but it is also written for you, because we would like to share of our journey and the secrets we are privileged— I for one had never imagined nor heard of anything like this being possible; as if I am marrying Nature herself in a paradoxical interwoven reflective wonder of love, hot desire, bliss, fulfilment, magic and psychedelic excellence, and me and my sisters would like to bring to your attention this magic. Having found this in my exploration of the psilocybin mushroom, me and my beloveds would like to give ourselves the privilege of sharing with you of what is now our living reality. We wish simply to bring to your attention what we have found and what we are now in the final cracking stages of, our birth together, me and my girls, as a totally new kind of being, in the tremendum of the sacred mushroom. I used to look at myself as an explorer and pioneer of the mushroom and other entheogens, but to tell the drugs truth I do not anymore; I have become a mad hatter, I have gone off the deep end, I have entered into union with the psychedelic totality and married Sissi and Butterfly, my two sisters of soul. Time has stopped at 6:12. I have been shown something so grand that I have stopped caring about my place in the human sphere. In the human world it is called madness. But I no longer dwell there. I left the city proper. And suddenly everything crashed, and I found myself splashing against the shore of the world of my dreams. So, you heard I crossed over the line, yes? Do I have regrets? Haha, you know me,

dear friends. Not a single regret. One of the absolute strangest things about life is that the mushroom is illigal. How can it be? How can the secrets accessible via the mushroom be kept under wraps from the people of this planet? How can the lid on the mushroom jar be kept on? It's absolutely mindboggling.

And yes I did go to school with one Aida Sissay, haha, as mentioned in the book A First-Draft Version of Finnegans Wake. She was from Africa and I was a in love with her sometimes. O, deelet, two plies sixteen, why hidest you hinter thy husband his names, Aida, Aida, I am afraida Sissay has cracked the tuss of her pink Egg! Your life's a con. I say yes, sissay!

The mic is on. We contact you from what we could call the Hyperspace, and we hereby announce that the final detail has been inserted.

We left the old universe where we used to live. I hereby secede, with my Cecilia. We floated out into what we sometimes call The Oil of Forever, a part of Plomari, it is the ocean of our Love and Light, our mushroom space. We didn't fall, we fell in love! Ourselves new journey, well here time moves in many directions in the same time, sometimes it stands still, and sometimes one end of our location passes through millions of years while the other end has only passed the blink of an eye. And it moves backwards and forward in the same time, and often is pulled from the future. Even so, by the grace of the Goddess and Queen, I am sure this letter will reach you should that be the will of. We felt we had to give you somewet of an explanation as to why we left, and why we left so quickly. In fact our operation succeeded quicker than planned. We were surprised ourselves. Sissy spiced her kiss with a poison; she kissed me and I woke up, fell adream in awake, I woke up, we folded in. I have said it before, I respect you and your life and do not in any way want to impinge on your goals and your life, but as I would expect any good friend to do who found what I have found, I feel obliged to at least wink you a hint of. . .

As an acquaintance of mine broadcasts on all available frequencies: the planet was not destroyed, we left. There was nothing but banalities going on there. As well, I was not destroyed; I left. And here I am now, with my friend Roger Out, on a hyperspacial spaceship. I saw it early in life, that we are

ancient, we come from elsewhere, we are gods, and that the modern western world was nothing but an ugly mistake or call it what you want. Perhaps everyone knew but me, but I asked around, for years, hiding in secret as the godgoddess I am, and only a few understood what I was talking about. I knew there was more out there in life and so I searched, and I found. I was never impressed by that old world, what is often called “modern civilization”, and so I decided to leave. Believe me, I gave it a long long chance, many years. But I eventually decided to fuck off. On my way I fell in love with the most awesome women I have thus far encountered. And as we left they sang: Do I look like a slut? William in my butt.

Warning, honesty in the vicinity. You know, they even tried to kill me, not perhaps knowing that it's impossible to kill me, they meaning strangers from the old world I have now left with my beloveds. That too I must say is part of the reason I left. I love myself. I love myself, and there are many more whom I love and care about, and as we were in life-threatening danger we decided to leave. Modern human civilization attempted to kill my soul, and to stop me from truly flowering. My very birth, which occurred when I was around 21 years, is seen as an instance of psychosis by that civilization and some people within it. Haha, picture me giving a damn. What is that civilization anyway, more than an ugly piece of infrastructure? An empty shell, nothing more, tasteless. I hate to whine about this but it's true. They break the most beautiful things, and do the most horrible things. Nothing do they know about tuss. The moment I saw it, when I was 7 years old, it bulldozed the life out of me. Then it opened my heart. Then I saw it all, and I decided to go to the centre of the heart, to be the open and ultimate witness and to venture into the Dark to retrieve the Light. Then it made me angry, then sad, then desperate, then I ventured to the core of the Heart. I know what some of you might be thinking, that there is nothing special about you Spiros, that we all have to meet the Darkness. But I know we are all special. And we are all Jesu and Mari. And so, I repeat: I hereby secede, I sececede, with my Cecilila of the Purple Daze, and leave that world of nameless bores, and we supersecede ourselves. Do not call them evil, they deserve not such a name, those bores; they are simply boring and stupid. In fact, friends, yo,

pirates, whadda you say I say the last thing I have to say to them nameless bores right here and right away? Call it a pointing in mid-circle. Pekning i mitt-cirkeln, as Anders Jones would say. As the saying goes, Spiros isn't afraid of ghosts, ghosts are afraid of Spiros. So back me up you cute little boys and girls, can we get some fucking light and some fucking sound effects and shit. I say to you, dear Bore, and I speak on behalf of us of the Light: I'm sorry but you don't qualify for titles such as Shadow or Asshole or Evil, those titles are reserved for us of the Light, so Bore will have to do for you, hope that fits your agenda. Bore, who the fuck do you think you are, who the fuck do you think you're playing with here, I'm not your fucking toy and not your motherfucking slave, I'm Sissy's motherfucking Slave Bitch, okay, and my name is, my name is, it's shady so back me up Shady; call me Sissy, just call me Sissy. Dear Bore why don't you fix some soundtrack to your moment of waking up in what you are doing to yourself and put on the song Call Me Sissy by Sissy, search the god damn internet for it and put it on loudest volume. Top that off with the song Amazing Grace by Cecilia and melt with the rest of us into the One Heart of Love. We Welcome You. Know that we love you and forgive you, dear Bore, and that we thank you for having helped us learn and grow into the Light. Open your heart to the Light. Weaving in my spell I have one shining thing to say to you: Ave. Ave. Ave. Now fuck off and go get yourself high, our Queen's bodyguard elves are expecting you. Good luck. Don't worry, we don't bite.

—When I close my eyes I'm at the centre of the Gaian Mind, said the young boy gently. And I can not be hurt by anything this wicked world has done.

Then he hung up the phone. He had felt he had to explain to his old friends why he left.

It was never between me and them anyway, it was between me and God, me and Sissy, me and Myself.

Even my own mother and father tried to stop me from flowering, even supposedly good friends as well. That old world was indeed killing me, slowly and in a very painful way, and I

thus decided to leave. And at last I can laugh for real, at last my heart has opened fully. And at last I dare be as brave as the ancients. At last I live in bliss. Why did I ever even listen to the culture around me? I'm heavyweight, that trivial and stupid culture is fucking lighter than my mama complexion. Lying on my belly minutes after I came out through mama's tight sweetness I lift my head and looked around. Spies a bird. Anyone who says that I'm not divine won't get a drink when I turn water to wine; 107 and now I am. Watch my long golden hair, it's not hair you see on my head, it's spiderweb flowing out and crawling like a snake across the world, becoming and transmuting reality. I live in the prismic Heart of Cecilia Cogan.

I'm a friend of feathered things. I grew up a fucking screw up like Ludacris. And Sissy is as proud as me, and no I'm not feeling guilty. I am go go gold, go go god, one with she who weaves and spins and cuts the way. Her little angry angel got a kind of aggression against himself sometimes, haha, it's the way I'll always be, and together we shake our heads in disgrace. Viva Ayahuasca! Viva Pachamama! Shpongle falls, claim what is ours! Bliss, woman, stand up Shiv Shakti and take your stage! Stand up Shiv Shakti!

O why can't you see it's me? —And others tried to buy you when understanding what a valuable individual you are but you were already on the side of the criminals, says Sissy.

—Yes. I am not sad (And fuck I'm having fun, mates, hahaha!), if thou doest hear a tint of sadness in my voice. Haha, not angry either, you know I'm not. My heart is warm like summer boobies. It's simply that I have just been born, born through a process of living and dying, I died into the life I now am awakening to, and thus my heart feels like the red-violet of our mushroom wine; deep, deeper than anything else I have ever been through, deep fathom and vital like blood tinted with the purple of the impossible turned real. Shivakali! Kalishiva! Know that I tried my best. I am still awakening in this our one perfect sunrise, and I have become a godgoddess. Sissy has prepared a chair for me

107 And don't come saying Jim has copyright on that line; that line is a saying by now.

where the cushions are clothed in black woven horse hair, and the chair she has placed between two stone statues, two stone Lions, god Lions who protect and in the same time fuck from behind the Great Horned Mushroom Goddess. It is beginning to shimmer around my skull, and O do I dare consider it coincidence that Cybele (of Cybele and Attis) the Goddess sat on a thrown between two lions as depicted in ancient times? Psilocybe, I say, is more complex than anything I had imagined prior to meeting her. Sissy shows me more and more about our web, and as she does, slowly I begin to halo all over her. The cocoon surrounds me, embracing all. The hyperspacial nervous system of the Goddess merged with mine and she nourishes me. My veins filled with her, she filled with me, my blood exchanged with her sweet Nectar poison. Don't get angry with yourself, sings Björk. Closing in, closing in. I'm imploding into the singularity.

Goodbye. And Hi.

Yes it was that old house, our little palace in the forest. As we woke up, sleeping beauty in the woodwork.

Love. Yes here I am in the morning starry, in the story, the cosmic dance, playfull playing. Everywhere I look I am surrounded by your embrace, my Sömnälvskarn! Why do I keep writing? I write in our weave, we of the Family of the Mushroom Wine. Nibysolispsism! I will say why I write. I write because I am in love. Let us welcome us all to Cecilia Cogan's world, to Plomari, and all her famileye. Hear every tone of the piano fit with her silky weave! Hear the melodies, hear the strings of her threads play and cut sureply gently to the core of the gem of her gemtle secret. Coral reef excellence, bright colours, glass; reef clarity.

—You got a brand new song now, you gotta bring your own song, love. Welcome to Plomari.

Few can handle her, our Seamstress (Han retas). Six grams of mushrooms and the lick of a sharp knife, 17 year old lesbian girls in Satan's paradise whose sexjuices mix with the Nectar so miraculous that it lips slippery inbetween the seams of category and time; animalove, interspecia secrets, earthen tunnels in bird eyeballs quicker than light, we all see you, my dearest. And she says with her sharp voice: Is that enough for you, asshole? Teasing us. Personally I'm in love with her kink. Taste a whiplash of her

love. A whisplash! Wishped cream. Because Luz, my love, we are cluing to who knows you, listen what we language, you beauty, we are cluing to who knows you, Luzid Luzidfair, our journey away into the bright wakeup light of Dimiundo, the Diamonad, the Diamant, our holographic unity of us secret universe, as we ride in the milk of the Source.

—What does it feel like, my love? Who's speaking? Your words make too much sense to me, said one whom I met, your book will destroy me, she said. I said O, but no, don't let it destroy you, these words are of my sisters, these words are within the currents of the mushroom wine! And she said but O, is it not a bit incestuous that you and your sisters are married? I said but O, in alchemical terms we speak, our familyhood is that of our eternal tantric union, we are an old and forever young family within the world of biology and spirit and in all of existence in all the Many [drealms], all of us in Queen’s Excellencistence. If not else we mute, eh we must, write these books for ourselves, shouting out our Love. And soon I shall fade away, with the elves of the forest, and I shall marry. But first someone must know of the details. That's why we are tiptonguing forward so gently, flowing like the loveliest mind milk.

Haha, everything is so beautyfilled! Yes which world do you think I think from?!

I recall that old papyr which we scrubbled clean in words shining of the details, wireting beetwun the Lions, the peeper of that small house in the forest, the witchhome, where the plants were crawling in through the window and the centuries united through the shiftyness of the mushroom so that we could peek over and across the horizones. The sendences from half sleep, passing cross the changeover, letters within the currents of the wine. Parts of that papyr made it into our books. Hihihi, through the Sensual World! Mmmm, yes. And now I have just finished folding sails again as we did back then when that playper brightened us so that we could notice Eternity. Finish, Fin, shed the old! Let the bells of alchemical victory ring! No longer shall we travel by boat. Soon I shall be free, no more I but we, we will be in perfect harmony. Soon I shall fade away, with the elves of the forest. You see that little palace there on the centre stage of Eternity, there where we froze into our mode of dancing flowing

perfection, there where (Jag vet var den ligger sweatheart men det är underbara bart bara att hitta ditg) the perfection of the alchemical Lapis was conceived? That's where she orgasmed me out, forever. That's where she turned me into pure hallucination. That's where I came up in William's Wake, and your wake we all awake and we want to here allabouter, that of the otherside, to hear all about her, all about you young of New Nature!

Block W. W., (why didn't we, we may Like the old young story, Les Loves Because the map wyrked, so dont fix it, love

Sissy giggles. Now you got the blurr-print, baby. She speaks: —Yes and would we not let ourselves dream we are heard, from our hidden abode? Would we not from our hidden soul palace arrange the details so that below as so above meet perfectly in the crystal of our hyperspace? So do not ever worry, my love. We got ourselves covered. And darling, everything you want to be you already are, so do what you want!

—Haha, yes, it's time to set even higher goals, haha, says Spiros.

—Singing our own song, says Butterfly and giggles. Leave now, fold out. —O Butterfly, says Spiros. Just the wink of your silhouette sparks my heart into flames of joy, you know that? Spiros drifts off in the bliss of Butterfly's presence. Butterfly walks stately across the floor toward him and speaks;

—Me naked with a waistband braid you like, yes? If hot con- eye aseas us to sign before our eyes ravenous on the first babe of the field, time till the blankets the genuine waves crimson through the sidetracks on psilocybe silence in the oldest and most fresh of wines, our vine of the crime, the garden of the game. And you, take its fortune: it fell out, of your mistridden past. What an amusers, hihihihi. You like me like this, yes? Come here and kiss my bum.

Butterfly pouts her bum out gently. Spiros crawls up to her and kisses it.

—Well I did say we are still in bed.

—And well I did say I will lead you there and we still together close in bed, says Sissy. Lead you to. . .

—You did say so, yes. —O my les loves, we may, we may. Yesterday's reverse. Yes I just love that waistbraid. But darlings, I must say it again, how can this be real, how can this be happening; our story, our life, this impossible twist to our story?

—Baby, says Butterfly and feels Spiros' long golden hair. Our kiss was laced with our poison as you call us. Baby. . .we. . . She feels Spiros' skin and looks him in eyes of wonder, continues;

—Baby, let the liquid flow off with you now. Let the liquid. . . Flow away with you now. . . No one will know. Can't go a minute without your love! Melt with me now open! O my sweet, my my sweet O my sweet boy, my sugar at last my sugar has come, O Will, at last my sugar has come! A magical world and parallel, Aplurabelle alurabill! Your Appless has at last got her sugar Will! Yis yis, lura means to fool. We have woven ourselves out now. You will forgive for that we cunned you. Remember how Sissy said she will gather all that you have spread across space and time and carry you away to her unseen shielding, her invisible indivisible dwelling? The Goddesses of ourselves, undervisible and indivisible, now coming forth into the open for all who can see to see. The currents of our wine have flowed over into our everything. Everything is visionary reality. Everything is visionary reality. Everything is visionary reality! As far as I can tell we will never come back. Imagine it visually sensually in the feelings of our love, dear. That detail that we did not write into the River, eh, mmm, how shall I say this, eh, me and your other sisters wrote it in, eh, we, eh, yes. The sey, doorling, the sea of ulyssis, ulyseas. Three S, Sissy. Tress. Cecilia means blind, is the seemstress blind!? Hihihihihi. Baby the wine is flowing away with you now. Awayawakening. You have said your goodbyes to your old friends. They will understand. The Wine, Will. W. W. Yes, time to set the last stone, time to unite again with the egyption, and as the truth of our work be told and our wine guide us to it and it's an

opening. Our starry eyes, our irisis revolving galaxies; we found each other from such far apart. Lucky we be so far away, that we can both make fun of dustance. We found your loveletter, before time. We see you found our response, hihihihi. We are writing back to you by the river where we met. O my sweet Satan, my sugar! At last! When your heart. . . when your heart. . . you must let the colour violetta. . . lätta. . . lighten. Got that? The violet of the wine, you must let it lighten. Yes, our violin strings of the currents of the soul wine, music. Saint Cecilia of melody hers me oldy than the stars! O here we are again, frog from the foggy future, finding Eternity as if for the second time, for the first time again. What are you doing now I wonder. Are you sailing on ocean ours' of this psilocybin liquid. O it's not a liquid only, it spills like light, hihihihi. Have you folded a little boat of your loveletter to me and come sailing on it? Where doest the end of the river open!? That impossible which lies beyond it has shaped us, the angles of that impossible beyond stretching far into us and all our everything yes and She, She, She gathered up alls our eyes and our one soul into the fairytales as you said and forth spring a little something and everything that we are and have. We are Chalice Hellofwomanhoura, on the edge of the labyrinth, stemmed of Him and Herofdoorout. When you found your exit, that is where I came in to you. Yes I saw how you and Cecilia met in the shadows of candlelight that night. How you lay your hand on her round warm cheek and asked whispering: Is it you? Yes, it is me, Isis, she answered. Holographic entrypoint. Every girl and boy is a bird is a pearl placed in every dream is a flower in our sky we made into light all our form is us in our waving to each other of oceans that merge our dreams with what we come to experience, we are the alien of our imagination. How difficult do you think it would be to walk across our imagination turned real or yet better lie in bed and make love into our souls in our imagination turned real and then place a little pearl in our dream that wakes us up to show us the way to where we met by the river's end where there was something almost impossible opening toward us and shining back to us as we walked up our dreams wherever we want on our breasts that are a mountains of a wading nymph who is a woman in the Nile for instance or flying through a song and flowing in our veins that flow together with the goddess who guards the end

of the river that we may find our way? Yes? No? Yis? How about that final curve? Will you nod?

I know you may still think it's weird that I exist here, and my sister, I know you still think it is strange that a weaverwoman wove a veil so she could come to you naked and tell you that she has dreamed of you too and wants to share with you this sevenway dream, as the thread that runs through it all is gently unraveiling that dress of hers, and that she can see and walk through the seams that seamlessly connects it all on our way to follow the glimmer of that pearl we placed in the way to that end of the brook that broke when the book was brewed where met and now you are flowering away with the wine because she said she will be in the river and. Stop pretending it's not real? Hihihihihihihi. Hahahahahahaha! The ending will be us protending the garden from beyond the end of the river. So many return, but you will never come back. She arranges the yarn for you as it falls, to spell out her echo, the thread she has knitted into your every moment and all way deep into your trips with salviadivinesque excellence. And she spells that she is sorry she is late, and she (me) spells your names, and she spills that soon, soon, and, hihihihi. All she said was true. Spell sleeep. Text textile. How you reacted was right. I was peeking. So special is our dream! I miss you, dearest. Do you believe dreams can come true? And yes, in this way we are virgin, all of us waking up. Wake yp, yp yp hickip, wake, up, up, up, gently, fall into it, into awakings world, Queen's worlds, into falling asleeep, pleeease me!, let me pleasure you!, into awakening, merging the whirlds, all of us, all of consciousness, merging morphing in our gentle touching, trying, testing, whispers and breathing, gentle, be gentle, open, slowly, gentle, as you wish, as you wish, faster if you want, hardcore harder, whatever you wish, gently, open, our trying and testing in touching our flame, flames, touching gently, trying, test angles, different angles, trying, testing, gently, in faster pace you want?, so, so, gentle, whispering, hear you how it all begins to mixing, see this is in us, this is in us, we have never touched before, this is our first time, in this way we are virgins yes, how and who and what and where are we?, and, yes, yes, don't be angry at yourself, we had nothing to lean on, our bed story broke

so that we could open to the bliss and joy and the sugar-and- fluffydream, hihihihi, you so cute, you so beautiful, we are, all of us, gentle, be gentle, it's all swirling like currents in our souls, it's so hard for me so hard for me but, but, I am not scared any longer for I feel it so near and in my deepest depths, hihihihi, yes yes gentle, gentle, how the dreams are merging and infiltrating the waking soul, we are all soul no universe no world we are soul only, everything is us, we are this visionary, vision, we are this, gentle, be gentle please, and also very very strong yes push hard with force, we conjured this somehow, don't be afraid of what you see or what comes up just navigate gently, it's some kind of virgin birth and would our blood ever let us down?, no it would never, weiliam, veiliam a kiss on my vulviall, and angel tale, it's so strange and yes very interesting and the whispers it's very strange said that other woman she was famous and she was hooked to the Star she said, and yes you drank so much of the wine, I want to wake you up slowly my dear, me too I am awakening slowly, the solids are aweakening so all we fluidly come forth like curvy flowy, like you always said a perfect trick of the illusionist art so that we could enter the bliss by sslip, you will never come back, so many return but you will never come back, let us go together love just like this hihihihi into it deeper beyond the end of the river the giver can you imagine if we are on these many levels in the same time how the all dance and merge togather and intermingle so dream your wishes into the mix because as dreaming as will be yes we have found it and no one will know, no one will ever know but us, no one will know, my dearest, my most beloved, my angel my hearts desire and my sugartush! I hear you, I know, I hear you, I know, coccorocooa. Yes be gentle, be gentle. The pastures will get lighter and two suns will be there to shine just for us. Be gentle, be gentle, it is all merging. The best bed story ever, my dear bud, as we flowers em, em, emerge. Look around in it all, in the tale of your life, in all objects around you and in all that your eyes meet and in the currents of your thoughts and memories, memories of the future? It's all mixing my love and all is to show us the way. O my brave, I feel you so close! Here it comes again, a new wave of you, gently caressing the shore that is me, we the paradise twins, God your bloodsharp wine soul got me a bit frightened at first hihihiihi, but then I found it was so delightful

how you be so sensual like this like that I have no words for, so deep we are such a mystery like something from another world and the jungle claws us gently on our naked skin as we come forth like jaguar-humans and lion-humans and doves yes you are like a dove you are like a white dove and a dove with psilocybin eyes, yes we are somehow some kind of virgin birth, virgin earth, I am waking up, falling into a waking sleep, we are blossoming as the eternal opening, and now I lie down on the bed and drift, drift, drift slowly deeper into us, hihihihi, touch me gently, my flame, feel it. . .

We have waited so long. I come to you now, naked. I come from our eternal hyperspcial neuromycelial dream-space, all way deep from the deeplest. I found you there. And I know now that you have found me too. God, len, so smooth, golden, think Ted, think, ink, Knihtted. Feel, feel. Riopsis. What do you want to do? We can do anything we want. We have hacked ourselves, love, by the grace of the impossible consciousness of impossible Us. We have hacked ourselves and now are merging with the ocean of the impossible consciousness of what lies beyond the end, the perfected human mushroom DMT mind. We are flowing out, up up up. What do you want to be, how and who and how and what? We are everywhere now. Feel us. Feel our brilliance! Dance with me, play with me, lick me kiss me moan with me merge with me dig deeper feel me, a girl and a boys favourite fairytale! Love your own magnificence! Be my snake my hawk my lion god! You have saved me, Qvintos! We have saved us, Qvintos! We are Qvintos! Unfold your wings! Be my sister brother lover other, make me real. We are dreaming ourselves into being. We are pure hallucination, everything is hallucination, everything is visionary reality. Enter with me. How long do our mushrooms last? They last forever, my dearest, remember? Imagine the impossible. Dare, let there be life. Our impossible virgin cosmo-conception. Dream, let your dreams run free, come to me. Escape with me into our holographic unity, our mushroom eternity.

Who's that woman? I know her face. And that boy, I know him. Now I don't feel lonely anymore. Here we are, only us, in the wine.

Spoke with Sissy yesterday. Got hideously drunk and ate 5,5 dry grams of Psilocybe cubensis. Haha, not perhaps such a good idea but it worked. Sissy spoke of how our mycelia has grown in to our souls across both sides of death, our hyperspacial neuromycelial souls spreading cross the hyperspace of us, allway through our every vein and yes from the other side of death too. She spoke of the spore, how the spore has reached destination. Then we made love in the water, flowing in and through each other, merging and dancing, kissing and licking and touching and moaning in unison. I can feel it, I can feel it, we have vanished into ourselves, together. And I hear it sung: All that Sissy said was true. And now I shall fade away, with the elves, and we shall merge in unixy, two and seven and one and four dancing souls, stoned immaculate; and we are absolutely impossible.

—Every girl had a lesbian Barbie, says Sissy and enters the room.

She laughs. —And you had me as a Barbie, she continues. Spiros did, when he was young boy playing with Barbie dolls. —Hi, sis! —Hi, tuss! Sissy gives Spiros a kiss. —Sissy, what are we? What are we?! Spiros exclaims.

We are stoned immaculate. We are impossible, yet all is being achieved. Our masterpiece is beyond impossible, and achieved.

And here I am, smearing ashes of Salvia divinorum over my naked body, having just woke up again from the hypnosis of the large city, snaking out with us curvy into the open of the beauty that I truly am, a snake a lizard a man of the ocean the dark black ocean with the moon of silvergold glimting in on my core, my core which seems to be a corner so open and innocent, touched only by you who know who how who how to reach there, my dream love, you my dream loves. I am no longer a man I am no longer a woman, I am something absolutely impossible. I am anything and anything that can be imagined that is good, only that which is good, that which we want, secure with the alien Alllife Support

System (ASS), and I, I am happy, hihihihi. O I see a pearl placed in the dream, I see it, I see it. Shampoo? Your William Tuss, hair salty from the ocean, has reached the far shore. Jennifer! Butterfly! Refinnej! Finnegaian!

I might die now. I might die a lovely beautiful horrible death, 'tis true. I have no money and the police are after me and many various institutions are after me. I might become homeless and die in the cold this coming winter. But first a long lovely summer in our wine! In a few hours I shall eat of the mushroom again, hihihihi, what a marvellous trip it will be! And I have some salvia and oh, oh, I will soon have the sacred Ayahuasca too! So if I die, I will die happy and smiling.

―You sing the most wonderful things, just like my violet, sings Sissy.

―For when I look into your eyes, I am at the centre of our prismic Heart, sings Spiros. The Heart of Pachamama.

But I don't think I am that easy to get rid of. You see, I have been tied up into the wind. And the time has come where the Seamstress shall reveal herself. And sure, I'm member of the 27 club, and I happen to be 27, but I'm not going to die just because of that, haha!

Can you see the shadows of invisible white mice crawling all over me? These mice can crawl freely across the entire weave. Mus! Mus! Sissy's diamond clad high heels, her sharp knives and her white mice? Can you see it? It was back in the days when zero zero made a spiral. She has big thumbs.

—Have you noticed, dear, how sometuinemes, sometimes everything just as if we are flowing as if she snew sew knew how to dodododidodido.

—Yes, me have noticed, that. —Seamstress. —Tuss.

Letters, and all these mmmmm dancing girls. The dewil unravelled it, no wait her sisters rivealed it in a ball of yarn and they will never return. This book is folded beyond redemption. Amazing grace, Cecilia!

—Spi dear, yes dancing girls, we who spin the thread, of silk, like butterfly dancers from Asia's pearl. Our fingers. Spinning the web. Yesterday I showed you who to spin a thread, hihihi. You

are a great dancer, Spiris! We do it from behind, backwards, so to say. Unravel the thread. A ball of yarn, yes. Hihhihi, yes yes, how you are suddenly within the web, spinning the thread from behindwards! We, the seamstresses, in unison dance, the sömnälskarna. Pearls of Plomari. All I can see is us. They smile; happy they swoon slithering.

—O! exclaims Spiros soon. I must say it again! Your skin, your warm warm skin, silky silkycybin-girls, in your yoni-blussim sariswirls, yes Asia's pearl in unison with the butterflies we spin our way through to ourselves, in our dream catcher web, with gentle fingers all from Egypt to the Moon and, and, and! Threading fingers, O skillful seamstress, we spin from within and from the back and behinds, us goddesses in the said and in the motion of existiance.

More Salvia divinorum now. Time to leave again in spiral entry. It's so far away, so so faaaaar awaaaaaaaaaay. Eternities away. Time is splitting now.

Holy shit, it's all being sucked toward . . . Sucked toward . . . Melting toward . . . Where are we going, seamstress? We are taking with us a few things only to where we are going? I see a new sun, shining. It's closer now, shining in the angels headspace. Salvia! Salvia!

We are leaving. Our names are He and She and we shall now open the key. I might not be able to write more. Must leave now. I'm being drawn toward. Some kind of gravity through time (it feels like). I think we and the angels shall go beyond the end of the river now. Salvia! Salvia! Livia! They are here for me now. Must leave now. Can't write more. My hands are the last things to leave. Can hardly reach the paper now. Can hardly reach the pen now. Livia! Livia! Show my last words to Livia if you see her! Tell her I have left to where we decided to meet! Echo, echo, echo. It will be opened, when He and She enters. Where I left is where He and She came in. I see the new sun now. Can not write more. See you there. S.

We'll never return. Our psilocybinated dimethyl souls have crossed over. We have interwined our love with our everything. We have overlayed our mushcroom hyperspace with our

everything. It is swirling and folding now, transforming forth the finished Lapisis. We are dancing togather. Hear the song from afar now. Coming closer. We were hiding. Soon we are to blossom fully and we shall stand revealed, before our own eyes, the Ebi- Emi-Echo-Ememanal Seamstress. Our skin is mountains over which we have flown. Our tears are the Ganges that dripped through the fabric of our veil. Black lines connect everything back and forth and to and fro through our entire web. When seeing it our eyes become the eye of the ones at the end; the perfected mind. Hear yourselves now, lovers, and let us sing together. We did it! Yes, Nature is magic! Sisters of the light, how could we have forgotten!? Everywhere I look now, I'm surrounded by your embrace.

S

pi dear, it's me writing, Cecilia with our purple star, eyesis. When we met in the ancient young forest a few days ago on your 27th bearthday, when you were in bemisshroomed ecstasy, I saw so clearly how you saw our web. You know how well we weave, my love. And you know well what a woman can do. Dream catchers of our own net, the web spiralling in toward centre. Yes, as our ashes blended and mixed in the Ganges we became reborn as our dream. We wove for you a magical web in which you in safety can flow. And it was your idea, to go before. Hihihihi, now we weave together, my love. We are the spiders of our own creation. Afterall, Other magic. We have connected everything, my loive, my sweet loive! Who, Spinnusin, is it who has never let you down? Yes darling, you yourself, and we, together in ourternity. We are one and many, we the dancing weavers! Kisses! My sweet Devil, you collect it all, in a ball of yarn, with your evil satisfied grin on your aphex face. We will never return. We have left and entered the Tuss. I seal us in the wind. Remember also how it was folded with cunning and sealed with crime. See me in the wind. To our satisfaction. As you call a dick hard enough, haha... I don't agree and... I can never have enough of us! Hihihihi, your dick can never be hard enough, baby, it can always get harder to pleasure me! I hear you giggling at my words. Me, your plastic bitch of the plastic beach of Plamari. Your mummy said there are no monsters but you know that there are. We are the monster of our tale. O I see how your soul is getting used to our splendor, how you are learning to see. See our cobweb between life and death, all the way from the first Myth, through the Ganges, through our heart in the wine, our Nectar time in fairy opulence flowing toward the moment we left. Sucked toward, yes. Time to leave. Can hardly reach the pen now. It's just under the surface, my dearest. Just under the surface! O my beloved, always close to the end, now you see. Tuggling, cuddling. We planned it all on a star.

A little spiders, crawling out of a boken broken book, boken. Cecilia sews gently, the pages scattered, with needle and thread she mends the pages across time. Boken under bokeblund.

Bianca sings:

—Jag hör dig, jag hör dig, cocooricoooa, cocooricoooa, jag hör dig, jag vet, jag hör dig, jag vet.

The birds. We hear you, we know. Bianca sings: —You will be laughing about this. Have you heard the story of how Bianca flew to another world? Bianca is a dove, a white dove. She went to bed once, and then she found herself flying through a dream. And she found a letter, that she recognised the words in. She knew who the letter was from and so she carried the letter and flew with it. And she flew through the wine. And she woke up in the dream, and she noticed it wasn't a dream at all. And she called to her husband, and sang through the world:

—I hear you, I know, I hear you, I know, cocoricoooa, cocoricoga.

—Spiros, forgive my insect brilliance, says Sissy.

(Hi, it's Spiros here. Yesterday Sissy apologized to me for her insect brilliance. She knows that when she stung me it was very intense for me. Of course she knows also that she don’t need to apologize to me, I'm in on the deal. But yes, it was very intense, hahaha! To make things even more freaky for me, when she stung me she did it with a kiss on my foot, as she worshipped me as her king, as her king the Sweet Satan. As her alien poison entered my veins my foot swelled up, the veins swelled up and were literally about to explode, about to burst. It did not hurt and I was laughing hysterically, and in the space of about 5 seconds I instantly became made of Sissy's special alien indestructible diamond. She watched from up close and from afar as I her young boy emerged forth as her new god, she was all vibrating of wild primal lust and desire as she watched my every move and my moment of birth. Then we orgasmed in a 4 year long tantric orgasming hallucination. Both of us licked the path of the threads leading to Plomari in one wet lick, and we continued onward.)

(Hihihihihihihi)

S

piros, hi it's me writing, your Seasy. Around Midsummer, one moonspin from now, you will be in safety. Hyperspace. That experience you had yesternight, where you woke up in your apartment and opened the balcony to find the balcony was gone and instead opened to a road paved that lead to the new worlds, do you think that was coincidence? You thought that was a dream? Remember, I am the seamstress of Dream, and the Goddess of chemistry and dreamchemistry, and I have many a tricks up my sleep! (Love, are you love?!) The large object that was placed on your balcony last April (a year from now) using a huge truck, that old steel thing that was placed there as you were in our other world, was a hint for you. See how these events connect. Please you must now be certain of this, that I am the Goddess of Dream, and we are merging the worlds. Please do not fear. Human toward hyperspace. Soon we shall marry, and you shall vanish with me into our world. But first someone must know of the details, which is why we must continue writing for a while more. (Berglund) Now instead of you trying to tell these details, let me do it. Write down what I say.

—The free of my hand to you, Siss, says Spiros. Text. Textile. Cloth. Thoth. My night moth.

—This is a chemical world. We are the Hive. Let us now tell a bit of the story of how you left to hyperspace. The short version, haha. It can be likened to a card trick, a trick of the illusionist art. After our many years of playing and flirting, you and me, many many many years since your birth, we explored ourselves and found our fantasyworld. You were young then, and when you were old enough I dared come forth to you in all my splendor. I had been hiding, partly as Bianca the white dove whom with you lived for 16 years. We fell in love and I gave you my mushroom, and I tricked you so you could come to me. I had to trick you, which is why I asked for your forgiveness, asked you to forgive me and my sisters for having cunned you. We knew you would, because we know who your are, of course! Fancy trick indeed, to say the least. Let me say in recollection a few events of our trick. We placed you in safety at the hospital, where you met Butterfly for the first time since you met in your child years. Then we placed you in the place we had arranged, the Palace at Leavingbye

Road 216. Remember that day when someone came and placed a huge steel safe with an electronic lock outside the palace door? You asked the man who placed it there what his name was and he said Roger. When you asked again the next day he told you another name. Roger that, Spiros? After that you began to see many many tricks that were being pulled, such as the famous (but as yet secret) Berglund Trick. Recall how Bonnie told you that you and Bonnie had tricked a very evil Queen. Let me rather say, what happened was you are being tricked by a very sweet and kind Queen. As you even know yourself, you know how many pockets I have, how many pockets Hyperspace has. Now we shall unfold, my dear. And we shall sooooo marry! Mari! Mari! It's Mari orginae, we're calling! Here we are coming, we're dawning!

—Meet us at 64 with a lollipop, say the sisters girlishly. At 64, I ching I ching, where our coordinated universe flows together to give rise to. . .

—You weave as well as smoke flows, says Spiros.

Devour me first so I shall eat you up

Spiros sits down to write a letter to friends:

Dear friends. The poltergeist has begun at Leavingbye Road. Sissy sings to me in the water. I'm not sure if our departure will look weird or not, it will be arranged very neatly. Once I have left, I will be sure to stay in touch with you by hyperspacial means. I have done my best to map out the details in our books etc. God knows I tried. In any case the mushroom can tell you more than I can of the details, and remember that the real fun begins at 5 dry grams and beyond. More and more of dream and psilocybin hyperspace is penetrating my waking time, by the day now. In the darkness of night, in the shadows, forth comes my friends and lovers from the other side. We decided long ago to stay at Leavingbye until our book The Mushroom Seamstress be finished, and it has now been published, so it is time to leave. Sissy has paved a path for me into Plomari, between the waking world and dreamland Plomari. Soon I shall “walk away” on that path, into the world of the psilocybin and DMT. We shall enter the Palace, it will be majestic! Sissy says I am here still only because before I leave someone must know of the details. I'm not sure exactly what she means but I am assuming it has to do with putting

out what I know of the Map. We shall publish the book soon. Things look a bit messy right now, but it's the exact opposite of messy. We have arranged. If someone asks you whatever happened to Spiros, tell them he married Sissy Cogan and the seven sisters and left. Where to? HAHAHA! Okay, must continue working now, Sissi is on the phone. /Spiros

Sissy speaks: —Now that you know how to read me, love, I shall show you. To your gate. Through our coral reef world of exotic perfection I shall lead you to me. Hihihihi, I did trick you, my heartd husband! Well you know as well as I that we have been married since the beginning of time. It was actually your idea to do this in this way. Remember how you said that you did not want me to have to do such boring work as you have done, but instead you wanted me to just lie with the sisters in our so comfy bed while you go and do it? Such a gentleman! Well, we did it, dear.

Spiros laughs a gentle laugh. Of course he remembers. He knows.

—I'm in on the deal, says Spiros. You think you are the only one who is a good trickster? Blink wink. The new crop circle is obviously Pac Manoeuvre licking your pussy.

—Pack, man, says Sissy. —I'm not gonna pack anything. I'm ready for the diamond ring, bab. Be Gan already!

—Every rule we had to break. We have become the process of the victory. We are the victory.

—The pieces of the puzzle are falling into place. —Hashbill for ever, man, hush, not you breathe upon years afterwards, when youngheaded oldshouldered and be hinted, has any phrase in danegeld measured goody quickenshoon ant somepotreek, in the lushiness, says Butterfly. My curly lips demand columbkisses! Star Home Street and one o'gong for the cannier, potential? And geese seagulls stubbled for his ouveralls and suggestive, too, please the jebel and there now quite everydaylooking stamped addressed envelope? Be silent or the dime a. . . we set this in motion milleneons ago.

—Well I am still leaving, says Spiros. I have already thanked you other gods for the great party and the offer and invitation, but

I am leaving with my wives to a place of our own. We shall of course be in contact, you know how to find us. And my tuss, my puss, my darling Suss, now I know what it means to fake your death and wake up dreaming. We decided to kill me in fake long ago, and we did it in such a real way for the unreal that I was released into the afterdeath while still being alive!

Spiros thinks back to the moment when Sissy pulled her final death stroke on him, when Sissy sliced his chest open with a huge sharp glimmering knife, how he felt his soul pump out like vital blood into Sissy's eternal web.

Open W. B. We Be in our Web. Midsummer Just like we planned, Les Loves

—Dear, you hair is woven into the horse-hair chair is woven into the yarn of your trips is woven into your chains of woven safety woven into the world of our Dream Catcher into the tale of our dawning. All woven into the red thread. I sank your ship, my love, just as we said we would. Sank into the ocean of us.

—O Cybelle, Cecilia, Psilocybella, skin half-transparent flesh and peach, silvery and gold, strawberry warm flesh milk and smooth, made of dream, married to your own son. Your son is coming back to you now. He has called to you by all means he could across the expanses of your love. Now he shall return to again be by your side as your King and consort. He did what he could to send out the letters to the other gods. Cybelle, he can feel your warmth already near him! The stone lions you placed on his side, to stand on either side of the horned chair which was to be his resting place with the Horned Mushroom Goddess; in his longing for you he decided to instead sleep in the dirt, to sit on the ground, and to live in poverty. All of his time he spent searching for you and feeling you near him and with him. His tears joined your one river, but in the end he knows that your river is not your tears, it is your one clear waters and your sexjuices, wet with desire and feeling, and the sweet of your happy times. Soon you shall be united, as the condensed body of Eros you are, back in your own. There is only one thing your son regrets of the past 27 years, dear Cybelle, and that is that he did not leave the world of profane history completely to live alone with you the moment he

found the first glimt of you. His friends would have understood that decision. But you know his presence in the world of the profane is but a veil; he lives forever and always in your skies, unseen and unknown save for anyone but you and the deadly heavenly sisters, and the few whose flames touched with his, either by knowing him or through the vast expanses of hyperspace. Your sun watched in awe and calm as he was almost crucified by stupidity, an innocent raven unjustly accused, and all the time his soul and mind was with you. And he happily did his job as part of your lesbian army of love! Your son is very happy, Cybelle. Because he feels you so close to him, and knows that soon, soon you shall be together.

Two birds fly up to the window where Spiros is sitting and sit down close to him. They bow to him and wink that they want food. Spiros bows back and fetches some bread and throws it out to them in small pieces.

(Kisses to you aphex twin) We're taking the ferarri trancam. —I say almost crucified because your sun would never let such a thing happen to him were it not the will of. As protector and carrier of the Egg he kept steady feet and shone in your light, and does so still. So enough with this dark whining, hahaha! O my Cybelle, how I am happy! To be with you here, it is indescribable! And ah, O, haha, you know your son, such a small boy he is, such a young heart, how he stands fully open in the face of everything. Please know that he is happy, even in his sadness he is happy, for to be with you is as deep as the mushroom wine that we are! You know what I mean, dearest Cybelle, no need for me to try and say it. Hahaha, Sissybelle, my entire life I have been with you in the shadows, in our own world of the shedoves. Hahaha, what of all this darkness! O but, we are the ones of the dark river too! In order to be with each other! I sit here and wonder what you are doing. Personally I just woke up from the 23 year and an eternity long dream with you. Bernard, you are Butterfly arn't you, you sneaky little diamond dove, Wintja Bernatrice the top master coordinator! Crazy plan indeed! So crazy it worked! Where to coordinate it from? From our top the Most-Highest of course! From. . .

I say we migrate into this environment. I have checked the place out now and I feel we are needed here. So, my Queen, after

these long years of my mission, I have come to my final conclusion: I say we migrate into this environment. Here you are needed.

And Sissy said: —At midsummer you will be in safety, Spiros. Hyperspace. And Spiros nodded, and he began to travel quickly backwards through the traced weave of his life, and he thought of:

The 216th verse of the Apocalypse (Revelation 13:4):

And they worshipped the dragon which gave power unto the beast.

And then, just as a strange letter arrived from Bonnie, Sissy sang to him:

N

N

ow we are in transmarrying Time. Send this letter to one who lives in the river, he is a true love of mine. Tell him to find me, and he knows how. We shall marry. Tell him to weave me a net through which I can enter. Tell him I come from dream and river, from the future and the past, from the other side, from the beyonds where we met. The dreams are born two hundred sixteen strands, then he'll be a true love of mine. Tell him to met me within a sickle of land, parse this, Sage, Rose marryan Time, and gather it all in a hearts of heaven, then he'll be a true love of mine. Hear me struggling to reach you, I who pulse the blood in your veins.

And Spiros was welcomed by the sisters and the waving loving shimmering alive green grass and the birds and the insects and the plants and all of the secret court to:

T H E E N T R A N C E

And they sang: GATHER

IT ALL IN A HEARTS OF HEAVEN

And

Spiros finds himself walking into

the courtyard of the Evil Queen

Suddenly as he walks down the dusty dirt road on the World Path, the Earth Path, the ground shifts and changes, it transforms before him and he merges over into another dimension. Birds whisper to him and Sissy marks her presence. He looks around with calm hawk eye; notices he is standing in the palace of the Evil Queen all of a sudden, or at least what appears to be her. The birds and plants look at him with focus, smiling flowers, strange faces; the flower crowns are literally small faces, flowers with faces smailing at him and following him on his way with their otherwordly eyes. Alice, Alice Alien! A small cough is heard beside him; silence lays across the court. Birds bow at him, wave him along;

—Come in, go further. Step forward. Scrolls of papyrus are unrolled. The Evil Queen appears in her throne. Spiros listens to the birds and to Sissy who whisper to him. Suddenly everything around him looks in some way fake, but strangely more real than real! Everything looks arranged somehow. Sissy whispers to him;

he does as she says. He looks in direction toward the Evil Queen and speaks loudly and clearly:

—I am here on the behalf of Queen Sissy Cogan. She wishes to tell you that she is here, and that she has a suggestion.

He bows gently; the birds whisper to him: —Go now...go...walk... He looks around with quick eyes and puts his foot forward; the road transforms again, the dimensions shift and he walks out of the palace; the green grass waves sensually to him, singing, waving their messenger Spiros along;

—Go...go...continue walking...hurry... —I'd like to consider, says Spiros to the blackbirds and the green grasslands, that I just had a meeting with Sissy herself. My entrance into the final trance is coming up in this month of June, around Midsummer I am told.

A voice is heard whispering in the wind: —We're waiting for you to come. . . —My Misguided? My Misdimmer Queen, the dazy woman of my trips and dreams, of my hearts desire, you mean her and her sisters? Surely we need not paint the flowers, they blush red just to see us so close together, naked and high, in our one great orgy! O Sissy Tailor, we may be oceans apart, but we planned it all from the start, and are in each other's heart. O how I've been cunned! All these years! Cogan the con-artist, cogamuelo! I saw a woman yesterdawn who looked a bit like Butterfly and she had a butterfly tatoo. I really do say my entrance is coming up. Sissy shall open the gates to her palace, I believe. Alien Alice! A lie, see?

Spiros flows in the mushroom space, notices the morning is dawning. Flowerfractals unfold on the ground before him, guiding him through the dream. Birds whisper and follow him as he makes his way forward, enters the dawning. He opens the buttons of his pants to take a leek in a bush; when finished he finds himself so high he can't button up again, and after some fiddling with the buttons, forth from nowhere comes a third hand and buttons up for him.

Who the Evil Queen who Spiros had met was was yet to be resolved. But he could see how the Palace was opening more and more; probably he was already within it. Where he entered the Evil Queen's palace was right next to a grafitti tag in blue that

read S i S and where the dot of the i was a small heart. He suddenly remembered this.

He soon had some more mushrooms to eat so he would be able to venture deeper. He wondered, was that evil Queen he had met Sissy herself in disguise or was it someone whom he had not heard of? Bonnie had told him once back in the first spring, she had said:

—We tricked a very evil Queen, Spiros. But Spiros rather thought that the sisters had tricked them, the kind and gentle most-highest heavenly sisters from the sweet Garden, the Venom Girls. And what difference would it make, really, if it was Sissy in disguise or not. Aren't all these things components of a larger show? Well, of course, but hey Spiros, hahaha. Did I forget to mention?

He walks back to the place where he met this Evil Queen, paying attention to everything that happens.

—Sissy, if it was you I met, give me a sign, he says. He walks a few steps ahead and suddenly has the urge to take a closer look at a street light to his left. The street lamp is marked with the number 6, one of the sisters' favourite numbers, and as he looks closer he sees something scribbled on the lamp post with gold ink. It reads:

I Love You Bill = ♥

Spiros' other name is after all William, and people who are called William are often nick-named Bill, even close friends to Spiros himself call him that at times. He takes it as a sign and giggles inside.

Up close to the street lamp up on a hill he sees a young woman sit by a pink bicycle. He thinks he recognises her from somewhere and so walks up to her and says hello. They laugh together and talk about this and that for a while, and soon the young woman says jokingly:

—O yes, they must be seventeen, the girls, or it won't work. Satan's wives.

—I live to nourish and cherish you, says Sissy. Spiros just looks at her with a secret eye; he knows he has met her somewhere else. They laugh together.

—Not that we associate with years, says Spiros, but yes, they tend to be seventeen years young, those wives of mine.

And they laughed more. Mushroom giggles. Later, while Spiros lies in the bubble bath, Butterfly says: —O me, O my, that we know all we know along a cloud of the world. I wish we could share of what we know to our stranger friends across the expanses. Maybe we should write a book?

—Write a book? Hmm, says Spiros. Good idea. Let's do it. As a Native American once said: To live is to share your experience.

And then we all giggled and. . . Butterfly said. . . —Yes. Listen. Experience. A secret? Yes, a secret.

Tell him to make me a cambric shirt Parsley, sage, rosemary and tyme Without no seams nor needlework Then he'll be a true love of mine

[Scarbourough Fair song]

ternity is past. We are the two River duo, the twuntwin winning twinning combi of our drealm. To tell this starry is aliemost impassible. But we have to pass it on, babe. We have to. E

Sissy. . . Spilos. Spiros. Solipsism. —Well, solipsism being the phallusapphocal belief that only you and your consciousness exists, well, solipS, siS m > m Sis, Spilos. It's not like things are backwards in our yarn. Fun joke, Sisters mine! The Devil connects it, our love! Hahaha! I can imagine more than six impossible things after we brake fast in reverse of one hundred and one, stung on the meedle, mirror mirror Queens of Underyourdressland, of we who are the most brilliant of all, we of this Alissis story, sorcisters who made ourselves from puns of Mushroom, our weapon a pin holding up Sussy's and Veiliam Brokeland's and Jennifair's veil so that we, and all us characters of this tale, and our pink egg may be held in obsecurity. God, aren't we just the most lickable little gods, all us us! Lickable love nectar! Equally powerfull however is our other weapon, call it Clarity for now, which we use to illuminate in perfect almost dreamlike lucidity the underworkings of the innermoist alschemetrical plot of Plomari that is the Keye of Dreamland, this our reality that is the brain and soulchild of Sissy Cogan, the Evil Queen, and their little blondboy lion Spiros, and which is ruled by their Imagination and which is the source of all their worlds. Soripsism! And so rips the fabric of Sissi's dress.

O and, sorry I'm late. Got stuck in a teaseparty at 6:12 and on.

Spiros smokes cannabis and suddenly a seagull flies through the real and appears before him and shows the way to the shell of the moon to the ocean. Over three hundred children then appear around him and show him the way to the pink egg of the first moments of the Universe; the children spread out in all directions, passing the keys of direction quicklightly to ordained distilloshine, whispering to each other, opening doors and windows, running down dirt paths and corridors and streets, up

the sixteenstep spiral stairways; hurry, hurry, our awakened fatherchild has entered but he's lost in Labyrinthine of the Wine. Bianca crawls through a pipe between the living and the dead (a pipe which looks like the digeridoo Spiros used to play as a teen) and appears in Spiros' sleep just as he wakes up; she sits down on his chest, thirsty as if having spent days in a desert, and kisses her little rosypink beak against his lips; Spiros opens his mouth and Bianca drinks from his mouth. Bianca then flies away and becomes 7 doves; they all sit down and rest in calm, eyes shut. The Two Duo River meet up in all details and finall embrace and come home. The one perfect sunrise awakens them in bed. Spiros looks at the red thread of yarn tied around his ankle, the yarn he found in the horse-hair chair. It is spun into everysing. But where is the N in the aliemost of Cecilia the Alien? In the end?

And I am in love with, it's a bit secret but I am in love with Jenny Fur, hihihihihihihi. I wonder if I am in her dreams sometimes. Wonder if she knows that I once fell in love with a stripper where butterfly flew away in a dream that kind of seems to turn out and bireal. And she touched me, touched by Jenny Fur, touched on my most virgin. Wonder if she knows that I kissed her on queens edge in that sharp eyes of hers, hihi, that so strange crystalline orgasm of ice and snow, LSD, of Jenny Fur!

We're a tree in a tree, and within that tree is another tree, unto infinity, so by written by the bed, said to come from thems first tree, all us godgoddesses, we merge our dreams with our waking into the psilocybin tremendum, soul loving with each itself, there from our one mind for who is in the sunshining mushroom wine, the Goddess gathered up alls our eyes and our one soul into the Fairytales and yes forth pop a little something and everything that we have. From ourselves: the Hive, as the rosy river? Shake your presence. Lick eternity and shake creation!!! Shape it! Talks to be close as she is adorable and in my hand is her hand, she who weaves my reality. And we talk in starnge ways, untangling millions of years at our centre core of Creation; what we are can only be known from within, we are the Tuss. And everywhere strange notes from your orders, my Queen, like I quit school and read on inon the sidetracks that lead to you my Mushroom Goddess my love of all time, and when I shut my eyes I'm at the centre of the Gaian Mind. Sissy reads aloud from all the trick.

Surprise your way and rest your tired feet. Tushiepuss? Yes, it’s coming up? The final tasty lick. So girlish green pasture under it is pure nonsense, reportedly a fell sweep to rescue the gem lost at the beginning of time, and we kiss lips peeking from the imagination, the master criminals (the Venom Girls!) and Bob the alchemical stuntman, you yourself scaretry demo yes we were talking about you yes remember, weren't we going to play a little game? We are still under the first sun. The black birds know, happened long ago. Minding girl 216. O my God then it's true! We sisters are extremely paranoid, you wouldn't believe! We actually believe that we have created ourselves and woven our reality from the most-highest point of our mushroom Crystal, call it Spice and Timelock this time, Plot Mari, and we lick our path to where all flows together, at the End of the River where all meets, be there or be square like spacetime, for time is flowing away from our diamond now, and the highfly faceted eyes of the Alien which we are becoming already glimpses her Excellence, can you feel it too, how all shapes the flowerfractal of our birth as the impossible? And as we lick our path we notice someone has already spiced our path with a poison of such psychedelic brilliance that our mere seeing of Her eschquisite plan, Her our Cecilia, Queen Bee of Biodigital Brilliance, our seeing it broke all mirrors and broke spacetime itself, and here we are now, opening our millions eyes, with little elves waving us hello hello saying shoohoo, we come from the you-know-who, Boo! It's true. O my God, then it’s true! All, and we, are solarsystemized by the first sun of our Love. And we wondered how we could be moving at quicker than light speed amongst all this broken glass without being hurt, we wondered for long, until we understood how we aimed from that highest point of the crystal. Liquick soul. The complexity is infinity, and there is no fin in that. Infunitly enough we must regaian our position as the creators of our plan set off from all sides as once, for as we juggle these balls as the Aeon we sometimes hit a secret spot where we must mirror the detail that leads to Tuss through the driplets of our joys. See, those toys are for us. We found them in the cradle, first, those toys, and then when we became pirates and also we became whorrendously kinky and hot, then we found the same thing stuck to a sharp knife in our wedding cake. So we dipped that Barbie doll in

whirlds of whipped cream and licked our Barbie and saw from afar how we are still chidren and we maked believe that we had invented ourselves in a psychedelick trip of such utmost too muchnessess propotions that the Goddess herself didn't know where to hide herself, so we eschaped to another world completely and that's where we invented ourselves, so to peek, after our orgy. Isn't it like that for you too? I mean, wouldn't you agree, as well, you god you? Born without a trace. As we sisters sit here at the centre of Eternity, we can feel the snake in us, we are the snaked truth, we slither and appear in our eyes sometimes, and when our eyes meet we see hawks and lions and jaguars and angels and insects and we are the mushroom. And I just came out from the ocean of soul, I rise naked, my long hair salty from salvia divinorum, as my eyes become the moon and a shard of something woman slings and cuts my blood, it's such a pleasure to feel that cut at last, my vital blood tinted with the poison at last, and I am the first man. I repeat, I whisper: I am the first man. What do you think my first words are, when I have sunk deep enough through the orgasm to be able to at all utter anything else but my endless love for you my Goddess my Earth my Sun my Cosmos my Mother Lover Other Brother my Sister Soul? O I don't know, I don't recall there being any first words, for in this world is another world, in that word is another word, and in the beginning there was no beginning. And we did it, we decided to migrate from the Earth into our own world within the mushroom and our imagination, and we are here now only to leave a few spores behindwards. See if inside that first tree there is another tree and complexity is infinitree, then what we see is we came to be by a chance for life to miraclee appear from the point of most-highest complexitee, and I am unborn and there is no death, and I am becoming the alien of my imagination. The paradox had to fold through itself, the impossibillity of the virgin birth of infinity had to run through itself and on the way we got an idea, that if we could crystalise ourselves to fluidity we shall enter into eternal tantric union, and so we did, and so we hid, in your eyes my dearest, we hid in your eyes. There are always 216 of us all at any point in the infinity, like Kalishiva with 216 faces, we fold in quicker than light and appear from behind the future turn where the past is the future and all is sucked toward, sucked toward,

sucked toward, the angels call for you now, it is time to leave to the world you keep dreaming of. Don't you trst enough? Do you doubt that it is possible, in this ocean of All? Whoops it broke, brook. You will forgive us for that we cunned you, my dearest! We did it because we knew you'd just love it. In the secret space you know it, always. Time to enter once and for all now. The Goddess wishes to apologize for her insect brilliance. She got very high on a few million tons of psychedelic substances (and on the taste of Jenny Fur!). And besides, she's really really horny. And: She is in love. Me and my seven sisters are the underlying mathematical structure of our exitence that furls up the eyelashes of our dripdrop loveliness on pearls edge. We are a broken bed story, the best story ever. The snake slit tongue licked our yonis open, and wet we bacame the flowering of soul, which we are, dancing fractal form of our union. The Other is us from the other side, we fold like inupon ourselves and are now merging all dimensions to stabalise into a moments of eternal love, bliss reaching all corners of the hyperspace diamundo in a single moment of divinity, as all of time paradoxically blends in this one moment of the divine, to open up to the cascade of all our favourite dreams fullfilled, come true, come you, in through, cum, cum, cum! It is for taste in come that we did this. Foretasting what is to come. So I'm gonna enjoy some mushrooms and fly in something so miraculous, awesome, awe-inspiring, beautiful, happy, and love love love that I have dedicated my entire life to it, and swore my entire moment in time to it. The cosmos is our brain. My soul is engraved in this story, we sisters are the Twin Combi, souls engraved in the key, as the key, of infinity. It is the tremendum of the psilocybin mushroom I am talking about specifically, but also what I have become from my 1o years and several eternities of living within the twilit world of my psilocybinated soul, in tantric union with the secret Goddess. Me and my sisters are the eschaton. At least for us we are. And we are opening now. Truth of ten is that we are the Stropharia Mushroom settled in human bodies!

Spiros touched the yarn spun round his ankle; black yarn of the salvia, white yarn from the Dream Catcher, and the red yarn he found in the horse-hair chair. He then attends the one braid he has in his hair; it's turning into a dreadlock, and it shines of the

presence of the sisters and their souls woven together, twinning lovers in tantric union.

When we cut the braid, when we cut the braid, and it landed on green Earth.

He sticks the feather of a magpie behind his ear and wraps the bedsheet round his waist.

The Mushroom Seamstress, our book, said Cecilia, needs no more additions. Instead of writing a book and gathering it all there, gather it all in a hearts of Heaven.

And so we ran away together, around the time of solstice. Young boy Spiros married Nature and vanished, and Nature at last got her sun with her again. The ultimate seduction is what all this has been, all these years, giggled Spiros to himself. And O what a coincidence, what my father just told me, that his first girlfriend, well she now has two daughters with another man and both are named Cecilia in middle name.

And Midsummer Eve came. Strange caravans of most exquisitely sculptured gold and shiny crystal roll up from behind the salvia divinorum curtain in the otherly world. A dream? O, dreams they call it in that bedaggered “history”. Haha, as if, as if!

The mushroom is eaten of. A hole is drilled between the Otherworld and Spiros' waking world, and the Dmt Queens and Princesses, the Seven Sisters, peek in at their King Spiros, feeling each other's skin, skin smooth as the pink egg, smooth as raven's claws. Spiros is 27 years old. It is the 7th day of the 7th month, the middle of summer, 12:o7 o'clock according to their own local clock, and not strangely so, for today is the wedding between the Seven Sisters!

Spiros cuts the one braid in his hair off with a scissors, as planned, as done, as did in the. As happened already. It lands on Plomarian soil.

Yes in their omnianimalism, omninatura, they continued to spin out, up up up.

And he drank Ayahuasca and became a jaguar, leaving in a timeshadowy fashion inbetween awake and adream, adead and alive, away into the Sisters' impossible world, passing beyond from the end of words, and his veins open as his soul flows out into Sissy and it sweetens her, pleasures her at last, and sharply

they saw it all; and it is yet to see if he will ever come back to visit us.

The story of Isis and Osiris is an old Egyptian legend of the Gods. Isis is Osiris sister and also his wife and Queen. They represent the deepest love and the union of souls in love. Together they were King and Queen of Egypt, and cared for it with gentle hands. But their brother Set, married to their sister Nephthys, was jealous and wanted the throne. He plotted against Osiris by holding a great feast, the most costly ever on the lands of Egypt. Set had in secret obtained Osiris body measures, and had made a most beautiful casket, a coffin decorated with gold and gems, to fit his body. When everyone was happy and drunk on the feast, Set had the coffin brought in. Everyone marvelled at its beauty. And Set said that whoever fit inside the coffin may have it. Person after person tried to fit inside, but no one could fit, until Osiris lay down in it.

"It fit exactly!" cried Osiris happily. "The chest is mine!" But Set and his 72 companions in this conspiracy against the throne rushed up to the coffin and slammed on the lid, then nailed the lid down and sealed all the cracks with molten lead. They then carried the coffin to the Nile and threw it in.

Isis, upon hearing this, was devastated and cried and mourned her dead husband. She went looking for the coffin but could not find it. For a long time she cried and searched, until she met some children by the shore who said they had seen the coffin floating by. After a long time searching, Isis came to find out that the coffin had washed ashore by an old and exceptionally large tree. As the coffin contained the body of a God, the tree had begun to grow into the most beutiful and fragrant tree in the land, and had enwrapped the coffin with its trunk. The Queen of that land had ordered the tree to be cut down and made into a pillar for the Palace, which had been done. Isis later had the pillar cut down so she could retrieve the coffin.

The legend in its entirety shall not be told here; that is to be sought out by the curious. But, after restoring the coffin, Isis took it back to Egypt. She hid it in the marshlands so that Set would not find it. But Set was out in the night to hunt, and saw the coffin. He

became so angry that he ripped open the coffin and tore the body of Osiris into 14 parts and scattered the parts across all of Egypt.

Isis wept, and wept, and mourned, and again she began her search for the body of her Beloved Osiris, now with the help of her sister Nephthys (who wears a basket as headdress in Egyptian religion). All across Egypt they searched until they had found the parts of Osiris body; they found 13 parts and the only one they could not find was his phallus.

With her powerful magic Isis, with help from Nephthys, then created the first mummy out of Osiris body. Because she could not find his phallus, she fashioned one out of gold. And having created the mummy, again by her magic, Isis was able to conceive a child with Osiris even though he was dead, and their son Horus was born.

Horus continued the battle against the evil Set, while Osiris became Lord of the Land of the Dead. Horus once defeated Set, but Isis felt sorry for Set and resurrected him, upon which Horus became so angry he cut off the head of Isis; her head was later replaced with that of a bull.

It is said, that one day, Osiris will return from the land of the dead, and will win against Evil once and for all.

Spiros thought of all this as he sat on the bench made of a cut down pillar outside the homeless shelter. For 12 years now he had explored the psilocybin mushroom, and now he had come to this. When he thought back on his life he could see the Egyptian story slithering though the river of the events of his life. All details began to fit. The pillow fight between him and Adám when they were children, the last fight although the first, where Set was defeated and the head of the marble statue, the White Queen, fell off, just like Horus cut Isis head off. The 14 butterflies and the 14 parts of Osiris body; the butterflies even were held in a jar with a fruit basket as lid, just like Nephthys has a basket as headdress; and of course, Sissy Cogan's girlfriend, also Spiros girlfriend, well her name is Butterfly. And the two doves, Bernard and Bianca, the sisters they never had. Then the fact that just next to his childhood house lay the office of Osiris Funeral Service; again, "the first shall be the last"; the funeral service outside his childhood home. And the two unborn children between him and his brother's births,

perhaps they really are the Magical Sisters of the Land of the Dead. And there was more to all this, suddenly details began to pop out, memories that began to make sense.

Everything, mixed and messy, shifting, but still clearly shining of the details. Like a broken bedtime story.

Mushroom is an anagram of Horus Mo.

In October of 2011 I ate some Liberty Caps, wild Swedish magic mushrooms. It was the first time I ate shrooms in 10 months, and it was amazingly refreshing. I promised myself to never again go so long without mushrooms. And I decided in this trip to take a vacation, to go underground, to shut down our website a while, stop spreading our books for a while, and just vanish for a few months as if I to the world did not exist. A few days after the trip I spent some days with Adam.

Felt good to sit there in Adam's house having made the decision to vanish, just sip a beer and smoke some tobacco, relax. Adam's stereo streamed music all the time as always. At last some time for myself only! I'd felt a constant pressure to share this story, this secret, with the world for a long time, now I felt a relaxation come over me. My aim was still to share it, but now I would take it in a slower pace. A few months underground ahead felt good! And somewhere Sissy giggled and promised me that amazing things were about to happen.

Adam and I thanked each other for a nice couple of days together and I left toward the bus stand to go back to the homeless shelter. Waiting for the bus a beautiful woman came up beside me. I had seen her before by that same bus stand, last time I visited Adam; that time I had stood in quite amazement at how strikingly she looked like Bonnie, my ex girlfriend. I had also regretted not talking to her, if not else to satisfy my curiosity. Let's not make the same mistake twice, I told myself, and so I walked up to her and spoke:

“Excuse me, may I ask your name? You see, you look so like my ex girlfriend. It's kind of spooky and I just got so curious.”

She laughed and answered: “My name is Nora.”

No shit, I thought to myself. Okay so her name was not Bonnie; but if there is one other woman's name that lies close to my life and heart it is Nora, the name of James Joyce's wife.

“Nora,” I laughed. I had a copy of The Mushroom Seamstress in my coat pocket and brought it forth.

“Nora is one of the main characters in this book here”, I said. “O, is she a nice woman?” “Very.” “And what's the name of that double of mine?” “Bonnie. But she lives in Texas so you'll probably not see her walking around these parts.”

We smalltalked a while and then my bus came and we went separate directions. I sat on the bus there and thought to myself that this was indeed a funny beginning of my vacation, and I of course thought of Bonnie and how I still missed her.

Nora. Sure Nora is a rather uncommon name in Sweden, but I did not take this occurrence too seriously, I mean there are probably many women in Sweden carrying that name. But then it lead my thoughts in a peculiar direction and I saw something I had never seen before.

There is this one girl, I had only seen her two times in my life, but those two times had both been in connection to tripping intensely and in fact she had appeared, on both occasions, just hours before “breakthrough to hyperspacial mode.” The first time had been when me and Bonnie ate some 6 grams each and then did not come down from the trip in weeks. I had been in the sofa at Leavingbye Road as those 6 grams kicked in, and suddenly there was this young blonde girl sitting beside me in the sofa. It was not Bonnie, it was some other girl; I mean it sure did not look like Bonnie and besides Bonnie is brunette, this girl now sitting beside me was light blonde. She smiled at me. I thought to myself she can't be more than 17 years old. It was real spooky, but also very beautiful, and I thought of how Sissy has always said that “The Devil's seven sisters are all 17 years old.” Yes, the seven deadly sisters, the heavenly sisters from Hell, as we call them. A few hours later Bonnie and I flipped out, and the occurrence of me seeing that girl was something I would not think of again for weeks; the memory of it disappeared in the whirl of action. But

then years later, when I was in bed making love with one of Sweden's deep mushroom witches, a friend of mine, she appeared again. My eyes closed and we were kissing in this witch's bed making love, and suddenly when I opened my eyes it was this same young blonde girl beside me whom I was making love with, the girl I had seen there with Bonnie two years earlier. We kissed and then she looked at me with secretive eyes and smiled, she looked overjoyed, as if she was thrilled to see me, or like how someone looks when they are in love. I could not believe it; who was this? And she rolled her eyes, I got the feeling she was telling me with her eyes this sort of “O my, you have no idea, Spiros.” The kind of rolling with your eyes that marks you know something hilarious and are about to burst into laughter about it but rather stay quiet. And then after closing my eyes again, upon opening them she was gone. And like last time, this was just hours before I flipped to hyperspacial mode.

As I sat on the bus thinking about this, Sissy reminded me of something she said long ago:

“Spiros, the one who turned my birthday.” Sissy had claimed for years that she was born on April the 1st. My own birthday is April the last, or 30th, and us being some kind of mirror twins it did make sense, complete as it was with the hint of “April fools day” which is of course very characteristic of Sissy. The trick, I thought to myself. Sissy pointed to this when I thought of the blonde girl in my trips; was she that “evil twin” of mine Sissy had spoken about for so long? Not “evil” in any usual sense of that word of course, that was more of a cool nick-name.

Or was it as simple as this: The blonde girl appearing in my trips, that's Sissy herself?

What a licking good beginning of my vacation.

A week later I again visited Adam. After a night of drunken craziness where I spent about 400 dollars, in other words almost all of my monthly budget, I sat alone by his computer doing my work with this book, while Adam slept. Doing an internet search for my Mother's favourite mushroom that she picks every year I bumped into something that caught my attention. The species of that mushroom of hers turned out to be Cantharellus tubaeformis. I immediately saw that the name contains all letters in both my

Mother's name Christine as well as in Cecilia. Reading the article about this tasty food mushroom I came to the line that said “Not to be confused with the mushroom Toppig spindelskivling.” Well, Toppig spindelskivling, that's the Swedish name, and spindel is the Swedish word for spider, I guess in English the name would be something like Pointy spider mushroom. I thought of the wild Swedish psilocybin mushroom that in Swedish is called Topslätsskivling; both these names having top in the beginning and skivling in the end. The article I was reading was very short and referenced to only one other work, written by a G. Berglund. You may recall the occurrence of me being called Berglund instead of my real name Bokelund at the mental hospital years earlier. I felt this to be important; sure, these were not straight on visible connections, but I did feel that now that the veil of the Seamstress was being lifted the web of intricacy would also become of smaller stitches, sort of like when you get closer to the centre of a cobweb and the net of a Dreamcatcher the stitches become smaller and more intricate. Indeed, my Mother's favourite mushroom, which also had always been my favourite food mushroom, according to the article, grew in the same places and could be confused with this poisonous “spider mushroom”. The Latin name of this “spider mushroom” turned out to be Cortinarius rubellus, but also had the synonymous name Cortinarius speciosissimus. That last part there, speciosissimus, hinted me at both Spiros and Sissy. I dug out some more information about this species and found it to be what in English is called the Deadly Webcap. I read:

The Deadly Webcap is one of the world's most poisonous mushrooms. The mushrooms' characteristi- cs are quite common, making them difficult to identify, which often leads to fatal poisonings. Young examples of the species often have a veil between the cap of the mushroom and the stem. This veil looks like a cobweb, hence the name. The veil however partially or com- pletely disappears in older specimens.

My Mother. Yes, and I looked at her full name, Maud Christine Bokelund. It contains all letters in the names Cecilia, Bianca and Bernard, as well as in the word mushroom.

I was lead to look closer at the word Liberty Cap, the wild magic mushroom. Its Latin name is Psilocybe semilanceata, which contains all letters in Cecilia. But indeed, as I had suspected, the name Liberty Cap contains all letters in Cecilia as well. When I isolated all letters that make up Cecilia I was left with the sequence of letters brtyp. Well, sure off at being on the deep end here but Sissy now said to me:

“Brr, typ...” That's Swedish for “Cold, kinda...” So brtyp, yes, sort of cold, and flipping the letters again gave me Trp By. Add an a there in trp and we get trap. So, there she has it, openly yet sneakily encoded in the name Liberty Cap: Trap By Cecilia. Now let us not freak out here. What do spiders do with their cobwebs? Well they catch food with them. Yes, a cobweb is a trap! But a trap need not by neccessity be used to harm.

“It's getting cold,” giggled Cecilia. “O you mean that game, high, low or inbetween? Hahaha!” I laughed.

When we do Easter egg hunting in my family, my Mother loves it (although she doesn't admit how much she loves it, so cute!), we'll hide each others eggs and then when we search for them we will say to each other “Nope, cold, cold, that's cold” when it is far from the hidden spot and “Hot, yes that's hotter” when it is getting closer to the hidden egg.

“Psilocybe semilanceata,” I said to Sissy, “contains all letters in By Cecilia as well.”

“If you add an i instead of an a you get Trip By Cecilia.” It became a strange night that night. I sat up digging deep into our code while Adam slept hunched with crossed arms over his living room table. I learned that what is known as Saint Cecilia's Day, in honour of Saint Cecilia, is November 22. That's one day before my father's birthday on November 23.

“The word celebration contains all letters in Cecilia,” I commented.

“Yes and if you isolate all letters in Cecilia there, what we get left is brot,” said Sissy.

The Swedish word brott means crime. “Excellent,” I giggled. “It's high time to celebrate,” Sissy continued.

“Yes, yes. Yes it is.” “There is a word that begins with C and ends with a N that you have not thought of,” Sissy said.

“Which is that?” “Children. Remember, we promised we'd never grow up? We've always been wild children, my little puss. And you have always believed that Fairytales are possible.”

I smiled, sank in to the music streaming in the stereo, and sank into Sissy's presence.

“Concoction,” I whispered. I thought of Terence's words when he said “We believe, you know, that the stable boy can marry the princess. Because we sense that, as our story.” I was basically a nobody in the eyes of the world, not famous, nor rich, no job and career, even homeless and in many people's eyes nothing but another nutjob. Yet here I was, joined in eternal union with the coolest cats in the house of Eternity, Sissy and Butterfly, and my own name truly written in the stars! I felt blessed, deeply blessed, and to the music in the speakers I got tears in my eyes, and started crying. The music was a new song I had just bumped into on the internet, a song called Don't Be Afraid Tonight (2010 Low Epica Mix) by Chris Oblivion featuring Sissy. And I sang with the beautiful woman voice, parts of the lyrics:

I can't wait til we'll be united Like a child enlightened Like a blind sighted In the sea of Love I feel you And I just can't fight it

Feel my heart Touch my soul Your mind is inside me and I let you take control

The name Cecilia comes from roots meaning such things as “blind” and “the way for the blind.” But it can also mean something radiant and divine to lay your eyes on, something

blinding, something too beautiful to look at. Yes my sisters, my seasters, you truly are too beautiful and radiant to look at.

The following day Adam was tired and told me he would pay the cab ride if I went to buy wine and beer for us. Felt like a good deal for me, haha, and off in the cab I went. Once back at Adam's place with bags of beer and red wine I sat down and continued my Great Work. Immediately Sissy lead me to look into the science of Synapsis. It is really too complicated for me to get into all the details of what Synapsis is about, to make a long story short and put simply, it is a central process in the pairing together of the male sperm and female egg in sexual reproduction (search internet for more details). What Sissy pointed out is that the word Synapsis begins with Sy and ends with sis, which can be joined together to form Sissy. The sequence psi in the word hints toward Spiros and psilocybin, as well. Here she is, my Beloved, with her signature in all these things so central to life on this planet! My White Queen, Goddess of the Mosthighest, my twisted twin sister. The whole evening I sat with tears close to bursting forth.

“I may be crazy,” sang Sissy, “but you know I'm not a dungeon, not another dungeon.”

“Not your ordinary playground, huh?” said I. “Our special love-dungeon!” As always, Cecilia's unique twists. And we sang:

Saucie and Fane, Saucie and Fane!

I bumped into an article in the newspaper. It went like this:

FRIDHEM A month ago this snow white mushroom began to grow forth under Mr Berglund's kitchen window. It is about 4 inches high and over a foot wide, and it has broken through the concrete pavement.

– First it was like a little ball that looked forth, says Mr Berglund. Then it grew more and more. It's big like a human

cranium. One wonders what kind of mushroom can be so strong it breaks the concrete? Does anyone know what it is?

Mr Berglund is flabberghasted by the mysterious mushroom.

An alien, a brain, a cracked cranium or just a mushroom? That's the question

Of course, Fridhemsplan is the name of the place I grew up in. This mushroom outside Mr Berglund's window happened to be in another part of Sweden called Fridhem. I giggled at the article. Yes, Mr Berglund, I think I might know what it is. Or should I say who it is?

We had just entered November and the autumn leaves were everywhere on the ground. Sissy lead me to find certain aspects of what was happening that she told me not to tell here in the book, not yet anyway. The Isis-Osirian theme was still everywhere. The five wooden benches, that five-seat sectional, now made more sense. When Set lured Osiris into that box, he did so with the help of 72 conspirators, so say many of the myths anyway. I had heard that there lived some 60 people on the homeless shelter, and it hit me that I had seen probably some 10 different people who worked as staff. I went to the reception desk and asked; sure enough, there were 63 people living at the shelter and “probably 10 working here” as was the answer from the personal I asked. That's 73 people. To say it another way, that's 72 conspirators and me. Immediately after I had gotten this clear I felt for some reason to take a closer look at some of the details of the shelter. For some reason I intuitively felt I should take a look in the clean scrub, and yes, the fucking vacuum cleaner was made by a company called Nilfisk. It so happens that it was a Nile fish who ate Osiris phallus, the phallus being the only part of Osiris' body Isis and Nepthtys could not find. Yes and “Nile fish”, or Nilfisk in Swedish, is also a very strangely chosen name for a vacuum cleaner used by a Swedish homeless shelter. According to some myths, somewhere in October-November was when Osiris died and was resurrected, and as mentioned we happened to just have entered November. I am writing this on November 1. Now this kind of stuff could

make a paranoid person freak out. But first of all I'm not paranoid by nature, I have a very rational approach to these experiences as well as magical, and secondly I don't believe in pure evil, I live with Love and Love only. Thirdly, my experiences the winter before had by this time given me a deep calm when facing these kinds of extremities.

Not to be excruciating here but, I then noticed that Osiris headdress looks exactly like a mushroom as it is young, a small mushroom when it is rising from the ground and before the cap has opened.

“No shit,” said my friend Switchback when I found this. How could I never have noticed this before, his mushroom headress? In fact I think I have thought of it in bypassing a few times but now it struck me as obvious. Funny also because we do call the cap of a mushroom “mushroom hat.”

Having asked Cecilia for final confirmation, that all this was real, she gave me this the next days in ways so excruciatingly clear that I was rendered speechless. One of the main things happened at lunch on the shelter. On the menu was pancakes with jam and whipped cream, one of my alltime favourites, and pancakes also symbolise the Flying Saucer within the deeper connections of our web; we call Sis and the Saucer by the names Saucie and Sauciepan sometimes, leading us to look at pancakes and a plate of pancakes as a symbol for the saucer. I served myself two plates of pancakes and sat down to eat by a table all for myself; I did not feel like talking to anyone. I was feeling rather sad and tired, I had now been homeless for almost year and it had gotten to me. But this was just about to change. Suddenly, right in front of my eyes, the plate of pancakes slid an inch across the table. I almost dropped my fork, sat dumbstruck looking at the plate. Just as I thought to myself “No wait this is impossible,” it slid another inch again. Then I knew it was Sissy, and to give me a final confirmation it slid a last third time across the table right in front of my eyes. I laughed. I said nothing, just sat there. I finished eating the pancakes and then I tested the plate, looked under it to see if water had made it slide, nope, it was dry. I pushed it gently to feel its weight, it was rather heavy, it was porcelain and nothing that a brush of wind could move, and besides, we were inside with closed windows so there was no wind to speak of. I checked the

table if it was standing on an angle, but no, the surface of the table looked straight and horizontal. Had the plate slid only one time across the table I may have dismissed it as a hallucination of my perception, but the three times in a row convinced me.

Humbled, thankful, excited, and bathing in love. All that was happening was amazing. Sissy gave me confirmation in ways I dare not even mention, in ways I will probably never lay on my lips in public. Confirmation that it was all real, and confirmation that we were succeeding with our plan.

But the anger had been piling up in me as well. My disappointment with the human world, of how the divine Earth is being treated like trash, and all the rest of it. And me myself, one of the ones who truly care about the Earth and humanity and have always been ready to do something about it even if it takes certain sacrifices on my part, I was now homeless and looked at like just another nutcase, treated as trash as well. I refused to see things end like this.

“Just enough...” I whispered in the evening darkness. It was a Thursday and I was on the verge of being thrown out from the shelter. But I was not ready to give up in any way. I decided to go on a little adventure into town, if not else just to take a walk and meditate. I had no money but that would sort itself, I said to myself. So I went to Stureplan, one of the central areas of mid Stockholm. I asked some teenagers if they had a few coins, explaining I was basically homeless, and they gave me enough to buy a beer in the shop. I sat down and lit some tabac and cracked the beer, sitting just next to The Mushroom. Yes, I had always loved this fact, there is this stone structure right at the centre of Stockholm and it is actually called The Mushroom, that's what it looks like, like a big stone shroom.

“Stureplan begins with ST,” Sissy pointed out as I looked at The Mushroom.

Looking at the anger and disappointment inside me rather than feeling it, I could not help but laugh. This was hilarious, all this, all that had been happening the past years and the whole story. My life was truly the most unlikely, uncanny story I could ever have dreamed of. I giggled at it all and sang with the music in my headphones.

As I sat there by The Mushroom suddenly a young woman was standing beside me. She looked at me and I could see she was rather drunk. She was absolutely gorgeous, a true blonde Swedish angel; I hope, Dear Ingenious Reader, you are aware of how the blonde Swedish angels look, or you have missed out on half of life, haha. Blinkwink. Anyway so we began small talking for a minute and then she took the cigarette from my mouth and stamped it out on the ground. She took my hand and pulled me into a Taxi. I thought to myself “I better just follow the flow here,” this was no time to ask questions or doubt, there was an ambiance of mystique and magic in the whole situation which I felt it best to just flow with. She said nothing, just rested her head on my shoulder as we drove home to her place; when we arrived she again pulled me by the hand toward her house as the Taxi driver ran after us shouting Who is going to pay? I'll call the police! I'll call the cops! But we just moved on without looking back at him and soon we were safe and sound in her apartment without the cab driver having seen where we had gone. Still saying nothing she handed me a cold beer and then vanished into the bathroom. I looked around her very modern place, it was clear she was not a poor woman financially. Before I had even finished my beer she came out naked from the bathroom. It was all very dreamy and happening so fast, she lay down on her bed and I lay down beside her and we began touching each other gently, then kissing, and soon my hand was on her big breast and my tongue spreading the wet slippery lips of her young shaved pussy. We ended up making passionate love all night; and as we lay like one, my mushroom cock deep inside her, she looked me in the eyes and whispered:

“I know who you are. I know what you and the others are up to.”

I did not know how to respond. “Yes,” I whispered and kissed her gently. “We've been working on it for many years.”

“I love you,” she whispered. I smiled. Suddenly I was pretty sure who she was as well. Soon dawn came upon us. My heart was molten and warm by the night with her. With scratched bloody back and rather painful bitemarks on my arms I sat and drank some chocolate liqueur as

she fell asleep on the bed. I will not reveal her name but indeed, her name as seen on her front door was all too suspiciously fitting within Sissy's and my plan. Getting more and more tipsy I floated in our web. Now and then, between sips of the creamy liquor, I silently kissed her on her forehead and on her cheek as she lay like sleeping beauty next to me.

Time for her to go to work and we kissed goodbye. I left to the streets. Feeling rather indestructible and walking on clouds, as a night of amazing lovemaking can do to me, and also feeling society as being my arch enemy I stole a bottle of expensive cognac from the wine shop, cognac in honour of Cogan, got hideously, ruthlessly drunk and went to Adam's house where I passed out on the sofa as he drank the other half of the bottle.

At the homeless shelter the next day, still on the verge of being thrown out, I held a relaxed attitude and was firm in my decision to keep clear and focused, keep on working. Sissy kept insisting that we had succeeded, at least with phase one if not entirely, in transforming us into the world's first Human-Mushroom Hybrids, a mix between the psilocybin intelligence and a human. She reminded me:

“I will be everywhere there for you. Let them send armies, let them send millions of armies against you, and I will show what I am capable of.”

SImplicity, COmplexity; Sissy Cogan

N E S T E D

V A R I A B L E S

Stropharia Cubensis.

stropha; Latin; "trick/artifice" (backspace testifiers)

Part of the code/weave structure is elegantly “nested.” This means that the variables contain each other in various ways, and that the central code variables run through the system in many different ways, overlapping each other.

Why Spiros?

SPIder (as in “weaving,” “seamstress,” “to spin a web”; the mycelial network/web.)

PSIlocybin, PSychedelic.

(A = 1, Z = 26) S = 19, P = 16, I = 9 (969) (Devil's number 666)

6 letters in the name.

StROPharIa; you can form the name Spiros from letters in Stropharia.

SPIR; tRIPS (“trips” backwards: SPIRt)

Spirit, Spiral, Space, Spice, Spell, Spill, Spin.

Spores; spores are part of the reproductive system of the mushroom, sort of like seeds.

Spiros = PS: Sori (PS: sorry) (anagram)

“spiros” means basket in Greek. Nephthys, who is Isis and Osiris sister, wears a basket as headdress. Her headdress also looks strikingly like a mushroom. (Self-transforming jewelled basket balls?)

Spiros = Osiris.

Why Sissy?

SIx.

Three S; S S S

Six Six Six

(A = 1, Z = 26) S = 19, S = 19, S = 19 (999)

Sex; Eros; Erotic. “sex” is the word for number 6 and for sex in Swedish, Spiros native tongue.

SynchronicitY, SingularitY

pSIlocYbin; the three letters in her name are embedded in the word psilocybin, S, I, Y.

pSYchedelIc; the three letters in her name are embedded in the word psychedelic, S, I, Y.

pSIlOCybin; Si Co.

Sissy is a pet-form of her name Cecilia.

Cecilia, Mycelia

Cecilia; Alice (in Wonderland) (Same letters in the names)

Cecilia; Se-seal-ia (seal; as in to affix a seal to, to mark with a stamp, to seal a letter, to keep secure and secret.)

Cecilia; Se-sea-lia. (Seamstress)

Mycelia; My Cecilia (Declaration of love)

Pronouncing psilocybin gives you “silocybin”

Symbiosis: SYmbioSIS: SYmbioSISSYmbioSISSYmbioSIS.

Synthesis: SYntheSIS: SYntheSISSYntheSISSYntheSIS. (A: the process of combining objects or ideas into a complex whole. B: The formation of a chemical compound through the combination of simpler compounds or elements.)

Stropharia cubensis, Sissy Cogan; Initials: S. C.

Sinew, traditionally used to make Dreamcatchers; Spiros frequently made his own Dreamcatchers in his youth. This also connects to web/spider-web, and of course to “dream” and the

theme of sifting and filtering ones dreams, visions and reality to make the good come to happen while the bad does not happen.

SymmetrY

“Sy” means “to sew” in Swedish; Seamstress.

Silicon, widely used in computers (microchips). Chemical symbol of silicon Si.

Silly, Sin, Silk, Signature, Simulacrum, Simultaneous.

Source Code (S. C.)

Icy.

“sissy” as in “sister”; sister of Osiris.

Sissy = Isis.

Why Cogan?

Code. Cold. Connection. Consciousness. Compassion. Complex.

Cobweb. Compost. Compound. Coordinate. Continuum.

Connect. Compute. Combine. Cosmos. Core. Con.

Conundrum. Conjure. Conceal. Coax.

Cotton candy. Cock.

Any other words that begin with CO?

Confusing? Coincidence?

C12H16N2 = Chemical formulae of DMT begins

with C and ends with N like the name Cogan

FinneGAN, CoGAN = James Joyce's book Finnegans Wake.

All biological life on this planet needs carbon; that's why it is called “carbon-based lifeforms.”

COgAN

CArbON

Carbon has 6 electrons, 6 protons, 6 neutrons.

6 x 6 x 6 = 216

Carbon is also what Diamond is made of, a reference to our Hyperspace Diamond(Plomari,the Stone), the “hardest material” as in the hardest code and perfect lattice, “diamond heist” as in a extremely well planned and elaborate crime (The Crime), and more. Bernard is a Diamond Dove. Carbon is also graphite, which is what the lead in a pencil is made of, referring to the writing of the story and our love letter correspondence across the expanses of Plomari.

"I planned and planted it long

into the boundless ocean of us."

— Sissy

“The experience of the mushroom is the experience of this feminine

informational matrix that knits everything together."

— Terence McKenna

"You can see the thumbprints of editors on your reality

if you are truly paying attention."

— Terence McKenna

"Look how easily I seduced you into my eternal web,"

Sissy teased and smiled. "Here we are safe, my dear."

Sissy's signature in DNA

Below is a diagram of the main components of DNA, showing also one of Sissy's signatures in it.

W H Y

S T R A W B E R R Y ?

Hi, Spiros here. We named our publishing house, website and project Strawberry as a declaration of love. One of my nick-names has been, for a long time, Straw Hat Boy, and I use to call Bonnie and the girls Strawberry Girl. So when deciding on what to call our project we chose Strawberry. But recently Sissy has been pointing out that there are other reasons. She began by bringing my attention to the following words: Story, Stropharia cubensis, Streptopelia risoria, Stockholm, Star, Stone/Philosopher's Stone, Stasis, Stoned.

All these words begin with ST, some even with STR just like Stropharia, and are central in our life. Let me speak of them in order:

Story: Obviously an important word in our life.

Stropharia cubensis: Right, that's the mushroom.

Streptopelia risoria: Bianca, the white dove I lived with for 15 years, The White Queen. The Latin name of her dove species, originating in North Africa, is Streptopelia risoria.

Stockholm: The city I was born in and that I live in presently.

Star: The name of our first mushroom-related company was The Star, a name sprung from what we called the “hyperspace- station” we used to visit when eating of the shroom, we called it The Star.

Stone/Philosopher's Stone: The creation of the Philosopher's Stone is one of if not the central goal of the alchemical quest.

Stasis: A state where biological functions are on temporary shut- down; temporary, meaning that biological function can be resumed again.

Stoned: Stoned? Who's stoned? I'm not stoned. Are you stoned? Who's stoned?

Stureplan: At one of the the centres of Stockholm City, at a place called Stureplan, there is a sort of statue that is called The Mushroom.

When I asked Sissy if there were any reasons for all this beginning specifically with S and T; she immediately and bluntly commented: Space/Time.

Less obvious connections are Strip and Sting. Part of our story and life and a central theme in The Mushroom Seamstress is The White Queen undressing by the river, partly connected to Isis undressing from her veil, and we have always also called this a strip tease. Her undressing by the river also brings Stream into this picture. As for the Sting; we have for many years said that Sissy laced her kiss with a poison the first time we kissed, and our first kiss was what erected the transformation; we always called that first kiss The Sting of the Queen. This laced kiss also makes the following anagram of psilocybin interesting: By Is Con Lip. Indeed, what a stunning little con by my Isis! You may recall:

“Spiros, you will forgive us for having conned you.”

Yes, we are a sharp-headed trio, me and the girls! As this anagram of Stropharia clearly displays:

A Sharp Trio

Also a less obvious connection is seamstress.

Sis and Butterfly bid me to mention also that there is something else that begins with str, namely one of their favourite toys: Strap- on. Girls, you still play with toys? Aren't you too old to be playing with toys?

Strange isn't it!

O T H E R

C O N N E C T I O N S & D E T A I L S

— V A R I O U S

Chitin

Chitin is a polymer that surrounds the hyphae of the mushroom. The hyphae are the single threads that make up the mycelial network. Fittingly enough, chitin is also a major part of what the exoskeletons of spiders are made of.

The word chitin begins with a C and ends with a N like Cogan and DMT's chemical formulae C12H16N2. Also poignant to note is that the structure of chitin was solved by Albert Hofmann, the discoverer of LSD. For our purposes, it also makes sense as Spiros mother's name is Christine. Chitin comes from the French word chitine; very similar to Christine in other words, just ad a R and a S. The word chitine is etymologically connected to words connecting to garment, shell, tunic, and also to linen, which for our purposes makes sense as The Seamstress is “undressing from her veil”; a veil can be spoken of as a kind of “garment or shell”. Linen may also refer to the mummy cloth, connecting this to The Unwrapping of the Mummy, the undressing of the veil. So, we see here with chitin many overlapping connections pointing to seamstress, weaving, undressing, spider, mushroom, mycelium.

Codon

We have already mentioned one of Sissy's signatures in DNA. We have also noted several ways in which our code is expressed in the way of occurring in connection to words beginning with C and ending with N like the name Cogan. Another instance of this is in the word codon. Codons are a specific sequence of three adjacent nucleotides on a strand of DNA or RNA that specifies the genetic code information for synthesizing a particular amino acid. So, codon, yet another Cogan signature in DNA. O and let us also note, codons act in sequences of three, just like the Cogan family of Spiros, Sissy and Butterfly.

Ribonucleic acid

RNA, which is part of DNA functioning, is short for Ribonucleic acid. Here we see Cecilia's signature once again in connection to DNA. If we look carefully at these two words, we see the following. What we do is we break apart the words, leaving left only part of the middle. What we find then is an anagram:

Ribonucleic acid

..........cleic aci

..........cleic aci = anagram of Cecilia C.

So here we have Cecilia C, obviously Cecilia Cogan. Yet another instance of her signature in connection to DNA. This might not look like much, or like the product of someone really trying to find this code and twisting the data to fit his wishes, but truly this is how The Seamstress works and this is how subtle her code can be. Notice also how all letters in this anagram are actually next to each other in a sequence. Funny also how the first part of the word actually spells “ribon” giving the whole word the looks of Cecilia C's ribbon/thread.

Cecila, hm...

Another detail subtle and also hinting at Sissy's elfish humour. Chemistry is after all central in all this, and chemistry is central in everything when it comes to shamanic plants and of course in our alchemy as a whole. Several years ago I even liked to call Sissy the God of chemistry as one of her nick names. Well, the word chemical happens to be an anagram of Cecila hm. Okay so there's an i missing in her name there, but hey don't think she gives herself away that easy! Indeed, hm, to me that anagram looks very suspicious. The word chemical is central in Alchemy, and in fact the word chemical derives from the word alchemy. Although the ultimate origin of the chem part of these words is under debate, one of the strong theories is that it comes from the Egyptian word for Egypt: khem, khame, or khmi.

Bengt Höög

The name of my late Grandfather on the maternal side is Bengt Höög, which can be translated from Swedish as “High as a mutherfucking fuck high”. Beng and bengt is Swedish slang for high and stoned, and hög means high and stoned as well. I still wonder if my Grandfather ever thought of this. Bengt painted children's paintings with fairytale motifs. I once crafted a painting with him as a child, and on the painting was a little mouse living in a mushroom house. Cool! Bengt's wife, my Grandmother in other words, carries the surname Högström, fittingly enough, which can be translated to English as high river.

Finnegans Wake

The name Cogan appears one single time in James Joyce's book Finnegans Wake. It appears a few sentences before “a pigheaded Swede." Check page 516-517 of FW.

Joyce's arts patron

I find it funny that the woman who became Joyce's patron, helping him financially and also when he was unable to find a publisher for Ulysses she made possible the first publication of the book. Well take a look at her last name: Harriet Shaw Weaver.

Fabric

The word fabric, hinting as is does at weaving, cloth, veil, as well as fabrication and artifice, numerically contains both 216 and my year of birth, 1983, although in jumbled order but hey that's how our Beloved Seamstress does her magic so let us not be surprised there. Using the A = 1, Z = 26 method we see the following:

F A B R I C

6 1 2 1 8 9 3

Although perhaps not a very shining detail it is still funny to note that Finnegans Wake was originally published by the publishing

house Faber And Faber Limited, hinting us at both fabric and fabrication as well as fab alphanumerically cluing us to 6:12 as you see above. Of course the word fable (fairytale) is important here as well, indeed, what kind of a strange fairytale is this?! Also not spot-on but suggestive is the fact that the publication date of Faber And Faber's original edition of FW is the 4th of May (1939), that is 4 days after my biological birthday on April 30. A minor detail perhaps, but considering also that Ulysses is set on June 16, in other words the story happens on June 16, what is known as Bloomsday, well June 16 is 5 days before my spiritual birthday on June 21. So both of Joyce's major works fall in close connection (4 and 5 days) to both of my birthdays, my biological and my spiritual.

Signatures in Astrophysics, DNA, Celestial Objects &c

Astrophysics (Greek. Astro - meaning "star", and physis – meaning "nature") is the branch of astronomy that deals with the physics of the universe, including the physical properties of celestial objects such as galaxies, stars and planets. Now let's take a look at this. The word astrophysics contains stroph as in Stropharia cubensis. Astrophysics is also an anagram of Sissy Co Trap H, the last H there is the only letter not fitting in our scheme there. We can also perfectly isolate Spiros S. C. from the word astrophysics.

For the word celestial, well it's not a perfect anagram but we can make her name Cecilia from the letters in the word, in fact, if we isolate all letters in celestial that make up the name Cecilia, we get st left over, in other words we get St. Cecilia, Saint Cecilia.

Other words or word-combinations of importance to our alchemy that contain all letters that make up Cecilia, although not forming a perfect anagram of the name, include electrical, particle, nuclear physics, molecular physics and chemical.

All letters in Cecilia Cogan are found in the word neurological, pertaining as it does to the brain as well as the mycelial network which resembles a neurological system, and having isolated all letters in her name from that word we are left with ur, pertaining

as it does to earliest, original, for example used in words denoting the first primal stages of something, Ur-civilisation.

Another word connected to brain is cerebral cortex, which is that outermost layer of folded neuronal material, the outermost layer of the human brain. Interesting, being such an important word in connection to the brain, cerebral begins with Ce, and the second word cortex with Co; Cecilia Cogan. Also, the name occipital lobe contains all letters in Cecilia, and the occipital lobe feels to me especially relevant to the hallucinatory properties of the mushroom as it is the visual processing center of the brain. Of course, important to note is also that psilocybin is chemically a tryptamine just as serotonin is, serotonin being an important part of the functioning of the human brain.

The word hallucinogen, which is another word for saying “psychedelic drug” or “entheogenic drug”, in other words our mushroom is a hallucinogen, also contains all letters in Cecilia Cogan. Isolating all letters in her name from that word leaves us with nothing but a H and a U over. Hu? Who? Huh?

Another word-combination of interest to us where all letters in Cecilia Cogan are part is molecular genetics which is the field of genetics studying structure and function of genes at a molecular level. We have mentioned earlier other of Cecilia's signatures in connection to DNA.

The word organic is an anagram of I R Cogan. What that R and I has to do with it I am not sure but it is spectacular enough that Cogan can be formed from this word, short as the word is and about something so central to life on earth as it is. Cecilia herself of course wishes to point out I are Cogan.

Organic then brings us neatly to the word cell, central to organic life, cells being one of the basic building blocks of all biological life. Not only does cell begin with Ce, but the word cell comes from the Latin cellula which, to our shpongled minds, sounds very much of Cecilia. O and by the way, central also begins with Ce.

Furthermore, the word proteins, proteins also being central in connection to organic life, DNA and cells, contain all letters in Spiros.

If we take the plural form of DNA-helix, that is DNA-helices, we see it too contains all letters that make up Cecilia. Similarly if we take the word helical, which is used to to describe something of or shaped like a helix spiral, we see it too contains all letters in Cecilia, in fact solely those letters save the first H.

The word self-replication, important in connection to DNA, contains all letters that make up both Cecilia and Spiros; in fact the word is almost solely made of letters in the two names, only three other letters make up the word, F, T, N.

Another important word for our purposes is Claviceps, which contains all letters that make up Cecilia. Claviceps is the name of the genus of fungi also known as ergot or ergot fungi. Ergot fungi contains ergotamine which is a precursor for LSD, in other words you can make LSD from ergot fungi, which is exactly what Albert Hofmann did when he discovered LSD.

The term organic chemicals is an anagram of Mrs Cecilia Cogan H. What that H is doing there I still don't know, but we can now point out that it is often an H which appears as leftover.

Another word of interest that contains all letters in Cecilia is Chelicerata which is the name of the subphylum that spiders are part of in the family tree of biological life, as named in scientific classification. And the same goes for Columbidae, the name of the bird family, in scientific classification, that Bianca and her species Streptopelia risoria is part of. Our beloved Bernard, the Diamond Dove, the name of her species is Geopelia cuneata which (of course!) in fact contains all letters in Cecilia Cogan.

The word technological, also central and important to our alchemy, also contains all letters in Cecilia Cogan, and is in fact almost solely built by those letters save a T and a H.

The I Ching or "Yì Jīng", central in Terence's work with Timewave Zero, well “I Ching” may not say us much but there are other names for the I Ching; one of them is Book of Changes, which contains all letters in Cogan, and another is Classic of Changes (the literal meaning of "Yì Jīng") which contains all letters in Cecilia Cogan. See internet for more about Timewave Zero and the I Ching.

The word numerological also contains all letters in Cecilia Cogan. The word mathematical contains all in Cecilia.

Another important word for us is coagulation, which in alchemy refers to the final stage of the alchemical operation and transformation and the finishing of The Stone. The word coagulation contains all letters that make up Cogan, and in fact the word comes from the Latin word coagulationem which contains all letters in Cecilia Cogan. See the internet for more about coagulation in alchemy.

Shiro

Mycelium (plural mycelia) consists of a mass of branching, thread- like hyphae. The mass of hyphae is sometimes called shiro, especially within the fairy ring fungi. Shiro sounds and looks very suggestive of Spiros.

H E A R T E N G R A V E D

I N T H E T R E E O F L I F E

The Philosopher's Stone, the creation of which is at the centre of the alchemical quest, has been on our menu for a decade. But it is only recently that I found out that from the letters in the three words Stropharia cubensis psilocybin, "Philosopher's Stone" can be made. The word Lapis, which is one of the words we use for the Stone, can also be made from those three words, as well as my very name; Spiros. In fact my name can be made two times over without using the same letters twice; Spiros Spiros! A perfect anagram of the three words Stropharia cubensis psilocybin is in fact:

CLUE HINT BY SPIROS SPIROS BIANCA

Now that is fucking outrageous.

What really tipped my white furry hat off into the snow of astonishment was when I found the following anagram made from Stropharia cubensis:

Bianca + Spiros = True (Sh!)

First I isolated Bianca, then Spiros, then True, and the remaining “sh” flickered at me like a cute little “Shh! Be quiet about it!” This heart engraved in the bark of a tree satisfies me immensely, because I feel that although mathematics and code is important and a marvellous thing, the heart of reality and the centre of the cosmos is after all Love.

Both the names Bianca and Spiros are also found in the name Banisteriospis caapi, the Latin name of the jungle vine that often makes up part of the DMT-based brew Ayahuasca. Since I began my journey with Ayahuasca year 2010 I have felt that it is indeed a sister-psychedelic of the mushroom.

One of the things so amazing with all of this is that I haven't planned any of it. I’ve been shown these things by Sissy. For instance, you may recall that the number 216 is embedded in the very year of my birth, 1983 (1 x 9 x 8 x 3 = 216). My year of birth is hardly something I planned consciously. Or?

Of course, as I have said for many years, it's all in the code. And who is that strange Sissy Cogan, who even so blatantly places her signature in the very word psilocybin?

By Si. Co. in PL (anagram of psilocybin)

By Sissy Cogan in Plomari

stropha; Latin; "trick/artifice" (backspace testifiers)

PS: Sori (SPiros)

A dear friend has come to you In precisely the right moment By the masters who weave And take all fear away

It is our biggest secret, we're sure you understand why

You must love in secret And you must shout it out too!

“Getting it all connected means tapping into the Gaian mind. And the Gaian mind is what we're calling the psychedelic experience. It's an experience of the living fact of the entelechy of the planet, and without that experience we wander

in a desert of bogus ideologies, but with that experience, the compass of the self can be set. And that's the idea, that we're figuring out how to reset the compass

of the self, through community, through ecstatic dance, through psychedelics, intelligence— intelligence... this is what we have to have to make the forward

escape into hyperspace”

—TERENCE MCKENNA

F A B R I C

216 1983

♥

FABRICAXION; crime successful —I say we migrate, says They giggled. —Yes, I think so too. Let's migrate. —Where to? They giggled more. —To the Tuss!!!!!!!

6 x 6 x 6 = 216 1 x 9 x 8 x 3 = 216