II
S E W I N G a
B E G E N D I N G
o f S A G A N
or
T H E P U R E S T D I V I N E L O V E
( THE FINAL DEPARTURE TO CECILIA'S WORLDS )
T H E F A D E – I N
A New Beginning
A y a h u a s c a
A
ND so it all indoned an undead, and began did the beyond the end of the River. Turnedout the Bokelund-Cogan Family was the I Ching Family and the Stropharia Mushroom since the very start. Began, Cogan. An hilarious event, can you believe it a hearts truth! The o'key was given and we celebrated for 7 years nonstop. It's a given, of course! What did we say, honeylush? Wasn't it just divining that day in Stickhome of Seweden as I, postillion Griffin, a dreamt into being Alion, and my systers, all of us real wet dreams, well what did we do if not cut an in to the haze just as our wedding was upon us at Around Midsummer! And so we went to Cecilia on our solo to pick up Mad, and the cock crew galen in the mirrning to wink us up Up up into the treat. Inkaput! We have encaust us in the tryptamine blood. The River is waiting on you! A birdy ticket, go into the sea to me and have left already your life in the old worlds! Les Loves has a new young a-little-something, a new Saga. You're served, god ye! Fatefully youths. Riopsis! Egyptian god of punctuation? Banisteriopsis, spiros, riopsis! For your satisfaction, my Queen.
Ex. Ex. Ex. X. X. X. e'ESCH. —Don't be red, you blanching Evil Queens, you sweet ones I'm on who know the rut, said I. Sing loud, sweet cheerubiots, like in heaven! This is our tryptamine tryst but no need to be quiet, as I always loudly say. The letter hath been deliciously living, uplifted. We alriddly won. One to twenty six letters in the endlish elfabet, A to Zzzzzzleap into ourselves eternal dream, such a joy to at last have arrived! In the beginning there was no beganding? Haha, you'll never get to heaven if you're scared of getting higher.
Giggles. Strawberry. Us self-selected gods and cute ones of this feast are reversed both internally and externally, and twine and blend. Internally we live in each other's hearts, and externally we flow in the richness of each other's complexions, an almost infinite prism of Love, safe in the impossible consciousness of the White Goddess. Some kind of indescribable expression of the purest divine love has decided to manifest as us these inseparably separate forms in order to enjoy sportive pastimes together and
explore. And we love to live in our openended first-kiss celebration!
♦
—Wanna play a little game? said Cecilia. Our one perfect sunrise has risen, and now begins. . .
—Yes! Yes! Yes! Let's play! O but, first can'e we sit down in the meadow and kiss? Maybe, maybe, eh, you could let me see what it is you are hiding under that cloth that surrounds your bodhy!?
—You know, Spiros, your idea is the most paranoid idea I have ever encountered, a sister reminds him. Your idea of The Crime.
—Yes but it worked, said Spiros. —Yes it did! Take my hand, let's go to the meadow. —Parvati, Parvati, you are very naughty, says Spiros melodically.
—Silly! O but I am. Look at me, I am this Garden. And see all those flowers, they're little yonis, and cocks standing tall, fragrant, slippery! Our garden of Eros! Now come, Speros, take my hand.
O my god, I can feel it, some energy building up! Sissy’s gonna cum.
—O, my dear, with your words you have taken the war out of my history, says Sissy. Let me hand you your crown. Hihihihihihihi, what do you lack to be one of the true Queens of Plomari? The looks of a Queen, that is all! But you have the looks of a true King, my plum! But because you in soul are truly both a Queen and a King. . .
There is much giggling. Spiros laughs and lights a cigarette he has rolled from a page of Finnegans Wake. Sissy goes on:
—I hereby announce you Queing of Plomari! We never really wrote this book, this book fit for publication on gold. We live it. We were going to gather information about the secret in a book as we gather it all in a hearts of heaven. Our thoughts and connection to the Divine may sound better in books we never write and in songs we never sing, but, somasing mist be swung about all this, and cloud and clearly so! If no one would ever mention the depths of the mushroom that would be excruciatingly surprising; how little it is mentioned these days in the worlds of history is suprising enough.
We have had it suggested a habitat for us amongst the clouds. Our motto: Inter nubila numbu, although we prefer nudilia in our linkuage, or in endlish: Amongst the clouds a splendor. Into the funtussy come real, deeper and deeper! O and now the whole forest is dripping in Pink! Our plan to turn me into a mushroom is working indeed! Future human-machine interphase, human- machine relationship so intimate that the line inbetween shall be blurred? How about human-machine-Nature-Gaia-mushroom interphase, symbiosis? Homo Myco Multiformalis. Now there's a winner. O my cocoloco mycococoogan you are so crazy what is you saying! I hear the birds now, how they sing. Yes. The seagulls at the opening of finn, They have come with their fair calls to show me the way. Now we run away. We planned on this. Time to leave our hideout at Loverhi Road! High hi how hi are you, my love?! The little castle at Leavingbye has been sold and only weeks ahead we shall be homeless! The castle's domed walls are dripping with dirty wallpaper instead of geometric hallucinations, which makes me understand that I am truly not high enough at this momend, but the little cave palace is beginning to spin, the residence in stone becoming water. And it feels like the first time, c'mon, now let's show ourselves again that it's us! Let's show ourselves how much we love us! At last back in Aluminalien, back in Plomari again. This shall be our last brook. O my dearests! Streptopelia risoria! Seamstreptopelia risoria! Stropharia biancis! Spiros trept realit! Trept, tript, trapt in the open cage by the sneakeast Queens ever! O! O! O, O! O!!! O how I adore you! Typitopy darl, sneak east you say? Shall we really go to Indian lands now as we said we'd? I shall simple be and feelow the redhas thread. O for am I not the bull Taurus, the Bill Minataur of the Theasaurus labyrinthine loveland, blink wink? O I feel into your sea for surely, my bloomariadne, where was it, Sicily? Ariadne?
Indicating a shape resembling a twisted chain, yes? O, my twinn, you are so crazy! How I adore you! O yes, my sacred white lovedove, I'm laughing with you! Am I your little Barbary Barbie- boy? O, step, strep? Strip to the marvel of the Goddess! Hahahahae! O now take off that dress that hides you, Cecilia! Waaaaaaa!
—I have never doubted in you or in us, says Spiros. But you know I am determined to find out your little trick, hihihihihi. We were going to play a game, weren't we?
—Pussietuss, live, lia, oaoaoaoaoa! Ajajaja, O what!? You. Are you tuss? Are you tuss? Duo!
—Hahaha! O Goddess, says Spiros, to dance in a strawberry cake on a knife edge like this.
And the last illusionary shape of the empire has crumbled under the honest rhythm, the true. Eros has still not grown a beard and never will. All us pirates live secretly and far away from the world we were never part of, a world that has never touched us and our virgin souls.
We really are the uttermost paradox of divine love ever, folding through ourselves, we have given birth to ourselves, our Pink Egg, pregnant we were with ourselves as our children, mothers of the otherselves of our Ur-Selves.
—I have returned to thee, returned to the Sea, my seamstress of dream. Our tree within another tree and the mpossible three. Sissy, can you not tell me, please, why it is so, that my year of birth plus the year 2o13. . . well, this equation:
1983 + 2o13 = 3996
3996 / 6 = 666
—My dearest tush, Spiros continues. How did we conjure all this?
Spiros looks at Golkan, his dreambird Pica pica black and white bird, a dreamy magpie, who has been his secret protector and allie and good friend since he was 12 years old.
—My real name is Golgan, whispers Golkan. Golgan winks an eyblink twixyblink, a shamanic wink, to Spiros, nods gently on the balcony and flies up into the greenery of a tree.
The mushroom teaches about everything, at some point the experienced shaman knows all the secrets from nature, and we may think the old ways is not wise as ours but we ignore many things, and the shamans know the machines of nature and use
nature and themselves as their alchemical lab. The body and mind is the alchemical vessel.
Spiros, a King Bee, in his mindspace peeks over into the closet where the mushrooms grow. Small harvest this time, but as always the blue fruit comes in an amount planned by the superweb of Sissy's impossible consiousness. He smiles, considers if he shall take a swallow of that mushroom tonight. He decides: Yes!
He brings to attention another equation connected to his year of birth (1983):
1 x 9 x 8 x 3 = 216 6 x 6 x 6 = 216
He smiles. Yes and the alphabet has 26 letters, A to Z. It all makes sense now. 1 to 26. Solipsism. Sispilos msispiros. Haha. What a funny joke, Sissi. Only us in our tale, us working out the details. We leaving to our abode in the clouds. Glam! Finglam! What glamours!
—And soon I shall fade away with the elves of the forest, and we shall marry, says Spiros gently as he lies on the red and pinkrose bedcover on the bed.
—Yes, says Sissy. We have merged the outer and the inner world, the dream and the waking world, the afterdeath and life, and the psilocybin worlds into union.
Spiros nodded and rose from the bed, sat down and wondered a bit about the chemical side of the wedding. In the past, a few main plants and drugs could be isolated as having played a main role in the event, such as dimethyltryptamine, psilocin and psilocybin, cacao via the plant Theobroma cacao, Salvia divirorum, and lots and lots of red wine white wine beer and champagne and not to forget the whiskey and rum. Sure, Spiros had did his share of LSD, Ketamin and some other substances, but they did not seem to be main players in all this.
And today was the day after one of Spiros' birthdays, the day after his hyperspacial birthday which happened in what is known as Around Midsummer, around the summer solstice and on Midsummer Eve as celebrated in Sw'Eden. He had not yet celebrated this birthday of his, he planned to do it by eating those
mushrooms growing in the closet. This special day was accompanied by both a fullmoon and a partial moon eclipse that happened to occur this year of 2o1o, which he took as a sign of everything being on schedule and on time (and under budget). Now he sat sipping a cup of hot cacao in water sweetened with some runny honey, in honour of this special occasion; honour of himself, yes, but more in honour of the Sisters as this is when they first found each other. The apartment at Leavingbye Road was almost totally cleared out, only a table and a chair stood in the rather echoing space of the little palace. It was time to leave, as had been planned for years and years. Sewing an ending here in Swedend, well Spiros was in fact sewed by the people who owned the apartment complex and they cast him and the whole family out; sewed because he played too loud music, sewed and thrown out. For Maria's sake the boy was born to compose music, his wife is like Saint Cecilia the patron of music. Like saying Beethoven can't compose at late evening for he must drink his warm milk and be quiet. Indeed, Spiros is a composer at heart and a great one at that.
—It hurts my soul to see you crying, says Sissy. But soon you will understand.
—I wonder what you are up to at the moment, says Spiros. You know, I feel like such a questionmark sometimes, hahaha! What is happening to me? How can all this be?
Sissy giggles. —Imagine Terence and you and me, naked, a threesome. —Haha! Sissy points out: —In a certain myth, ten kings lived before the great flood, they lived very long lives. Together the ten kings lived for 432 thousand years. The last of the kings is named Xisouthros. Xis, Sis, south outh, Spiros, Ros, Xisouthros! She points to an equation:
6o seconds x 6o seconds x 12 hours = 43, 2oo seconds
She speaks: —And you already know the following equation:
216 + 216 = 432
—864oo seconds in one day, Sissy continues. Split that up a bit and see.
864oo / 4 = 216oo
—The diameter of the moon is on or just on 216o miles, she continued.
—O, sighed Spiros in salviaesque emotion, you are like the moon, you are the moon.
He shines up, face turning jaguarlike; —And tonight we shall eat of the mushroom flesh. That little something growing in our closet.
And I chewed and swallowed one huge mushroom after having licked it like a cock and Sissy took my hand you know she took my eyes and she lead me to the forest where the one perfect sunrise rose in the fairies' preperation and it was so beautiful there you know like that green very green bright green and the afternoon sun yellowish and little spiders threads on the blades of grass and we stood there and the wind wasn't blowing but the leaves of the trees waved as I sang to us all and it was part of the wedding aisle down the forest path and we walked carefully and the insects were flying around and Sissy had prepared a path so I wouldn't walk on any insects and.
Yes. And then we spent some time in a secret mindcorner of ours and then went back to the party at Leavingbye Road and sat down for a glass of an intoxicating concoction. It was so peaceful everything. We sat and giggled about things and like we were yes we giggled about a joke thrown nippin the city of Damsterdamp and yes the sisters were kissing and you know these women are the source of all my joy like the only sun there is and yes. We actually listened to a song called Sister Kiss by Big Light it was awesome.
Yes and Spiros sat and told stories about his time within the fracta-crystalline hyperdiamonoid insectalishious dna-dmt- psilycybin diamond matrix, the Mountain that he dug through for
a few years back in the days to retrieve the Last Gem, and he told us the most hilarious things that we unfortunately cannot retele here.
—Genious, said Sissy. Genious. And it became rather quiet all of a sudden as if, as if, as if all the different timelines were merging ontop of each other, and we sat there and drank beer slowly and listened to the music.
And Spiros later threw a joke saying: —I've chained myself to myself. . . And we danced forth, in unison, us the Dancing Weavers, we who spunspinn our lives.
—Watch out, said Butterfly, it's a scary fairytale. . .
And we sang, and we danced, and we wove.
—That's what I said too. Yehoo! And a crack in the mind opens. And we do the most amazing tricks, you know, tricks we only show sometimes. Some tricks we have yet told no one.
And suddenly. . . Sisis said. . . As we were waving in psilocybin sinking. . . She said:
One, all composite phenomena are us. Two, all contaminated things and events are unsatisfactory. Threesome, Nirvana is true peace.
And we floated and flowed in psilocybin. And Spiros then pointed out:
—There is no evil. Mankind is stupid, that's for sure. But in the drealms of the gods, there is no evil. Their understanding and their devistatingly good bandwidth blanks understanding for humans.
And we listened to the song Halo by Beyonce. The seven sisters like to be seventeen years old as you probably can imagine. And solipsism is not really their taste just like that, but these serpenwine girls are up for much mischeif and so hey, in our wedding time all goes as they wish.
Solipsism is the philosophical point of view that nothing but you and your consiousness exists. Well hey what a bore, ey, but in this sevenway marriage we all take all our splendor to ourselves; we are sucking ourselves up into the Tuss and taking with us what we want.
As hinted earlier in the book the word Solipsism is a bit curious to us. It contains the names of me, the Qking, and the Evil Queen. Flip around the word a bit backwards and forwards and see:
Solips = Spilos (Obviously Spiros) Sis = Sis That it also reads lips is of course a licking joy all by itself. That last M there simply denotes our moans of orgasmic pleasure as we cum.
—Sissy's initials, S. C., Spiros remarks to the elves, are inscribed in my year of birth. A = 1, B = 2, C = 3 . . . Z = 26. My year of birth begins with an S, and ends with a C.
Aihc shc chica.
19 = S 8 = H 3 = C
Esch. —Guess it makes sense, he continues. My Grandmother's last name is Högström, and my Grandfather's is Hög. Transalted to english their names are as so Brook auf High and High. In fact my dear Grandfather's full name is Bengt Hög, which translated to english becomes High-As-A Mutherfucking-Fuck High. So I guess life does make sense afterall. You'll hear stoners in Sweden say “I'm bengt hög, man”, meaning “I'm really fucking high”. There is much laughter in the palace, deep belly buddha laugher and giggles and charms.
—Yes and before she got married, Spiros, your mother's last name was Alven. Which in the languages at hand here means both The Elf and The River. Also, you may notice, if you exchange the middle letter “v” to an “i” you get the word Alien.
—Aren't we fab, says one of the deadly Sisters. —Absolutley fab. —Fabulous mate, fabulous. —This fabula is anything but tangled, I'll tell you that.
—Fabrication. We all look over at Queen Silica, our Queen Cowgaian, as if we all are water and are looking for the mother. She points out:
—The diameter of the sun is 864,ooo miles. 864 is 4 x 216. The diameter of the moon is 216o miles, that's 1o x 216. And 216 x 2 equals 432.
432 x 432 = 186624
—186624 is dangerously close to the speed of light. One of the round fat funnyboys from Alice In Wonderland, Humptydumpty, suddenly walks by the party area at Leavingbye Road wearing a red-black striped shirt. Spiros raises an eybrow and giggles inside.
—The Precession of the Equinoxes of the Earth are at 2592o years, continues Sissy. That's 12o x 216. Do you think these things are coincidences, Spiros?
—No, laughs Spiros. And we are closing in on year 2o12. It's July 2o1o already. I am very curious about all this. Terence McKenna's original end date for Timewave Zero was 16/11/2o12, I just found out.
Sissy points out:
2o / 12 = 1.666...
—Yes and I was 16 years old the year 2ooo, says Spiros. The year I took my first mushroom trip.
He sings with voice gentle as Bianca's feathers:
It's coming back to me now, that strange and almost endless dream
Like the dream catcher thread going in toward its centre, a web created by its path.
—Mr Him Diamond, says Sissy to Spiros and looks at him with a secretive glance. Carbon, or C, which is one of the fundamental building blocks of life on this planet and also what diamond is made of, has 6 neutrons, 6 protons, and 6 electrons. Spiros spins in the information.
—Getting closer and closer, he says.
If you feel it it must be real. . . What about when it is everywhere, as well? When it all fits? All of it in a Knit-Shell
—And think of your initials, Spiros, Butterfly says. Your full name William Claes David Bokelund.
W x C x D x B = 144
144 is one of our numbers of victory, for certain reasons. One reason is that it is 2 x 72, when 216 is 3 x 72.
T x R x I x C x K = 432
—We'll take all the bonds of the world away and create something better! Let us sing: Something better! Something better! Puss!
W x I x N = 216
. . . . . . . . . . in evidence of Sissy's brilliance.
B x I x A x N x C x A = 216
E x N x D x I x N x G = 2o16o
Spiros thinks back to the girl who appeared by his bed only a few winks in time ago:
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
—And yes, says Sissy and looks at Spiris, your mother's father was called Hans. Hans and Greeting, my love.
She stands naked at the beginning of the stairway and bends forward gently, her hand resting on the black spiral candy banister.
—Follow me, honey.
ood morning, my beloved, morning has risen! You have come here, from the one beginning and the neverending, on the path traced weave. You come naked, having manifested as nature on your way here. And you may think you have died many times, but I see, you have never died, and never will. This game of hide and seek. G
—You are my Cryssanthemoms, whispers Spiros. Yes here we are. We have risen as our one perfect sunrise. The galaxies are our eyes, our revolving irisis.
—My son. . . crack! Mirror mirror. And the ridges were smoothed.
Did you form for me? Did we dream this into being? Could we really have conjured this?
When Spiros wakes up he goes out to smoke a joint of great weed out on the pastures (Mary! Mari! It's Mari originae!). A surprising group of young women stand there giggling and talking when he arrives on the grassland; they are playing kubb, a strange game where one tries to make the Queen and her Princesses lie down by throwing a stick on them. Smoking together the joint Spiros and the girls notice a huge insect, looking like a huge bee, come flying round them, a huge bee it looks like; it flies round their heads and chases them round the pasture. Soon it is gone for a while and Spiros plays kubb by himself as the girls sit and talk. He throws the stick toward the target princess some 1o yards away and it lands next to one of them, touching it. He throws the next stick; it lands in the exact same place, same angle, by the second princess.
—How did you do that? Spiros thinks. He walks over to the sticks and picks them up, throws again to try and hit the targets; the sticks land in the exact same way and angle again.
The girls over-see it; —Yes but how did it work? says one of them with low voice. How did he do it? He was standing 1o meters from it when I saw it, the sticks were lying in the same way on both targets! Uncannily so. Unreal.
—I took the secret path, says Sissy to Spiros. —En fint, says Spiros. —Has Spiros been a bad boy? —He's been a really bad boy. —He has too many eyes that Spiros-boy. —Well we planned it all from the start, you and I. Spiros finds a small splinter in his eye, like in the snow white movie; the fairest of them all. He nods inside and bites his lip gently of amazement, says goodbye to the girls lovely to meet you lick meaw lick and he walks back to Leavingbye Road and notices a host of these huge bee-like beings flying round the Palace at Leavingbye Road 216 and sägnen sägnen (swedish) and sängen sängen (swedish) of sagan (swedish); he rests high and satisfied.
Nature swallows history full and whole. Sa Gan. Sa (swedish, “said”) Cogan. That's what she said. Diasmundo. The story, sagan. I'd say si, said sis.
A bow. —Thank you again, my bedoved, for this wonderfilled crossmess purzel. It is of archemical procontortions! A kiss to the Goddess indeed! Just like you yourself is.
A quick blush. —And I know you just love that ass. Lick it wet upon arrival. —Saysays trick is. . .is. . . They smile. —The magic masquerading as a drug. —The magic masquerading as an Alien. . . —Reality masquarading as. . . —There is a secret, and this is it. Sleepily and high Spiros writes down a list of Swedish words:
Vin = wine Vinn = win Sagan = the story, the fairytale Syster = sister Sy = sew Sängen = the bed Säg = say Sägnen?
—I wonder how the girlieroom of two evil queens might look like, says Spiros and giggles. Must be wicked out of this world. O Bumblessky, where are you?
—I'm touching myself, utters Butterfly with a moan that cuts through Plomari. Come let's make nectar like you've never seen.
Lost in a Plomarian wilderness of ecstasy. Sissy licks the wine chalice as it if it were a cock and plays with her fingers of excellence (these fingers are snakes), looking at her little Willie- boy, adoring him, feeling with him, rubbing her soul against his. Spiros crawls under the rose bedcover and falls alseep to fantasies of what is to come, and when he wakes up again from his nightnap he sits down by the table in the empty palace at Leavingbye. He drifts in the memories of the dreams he just had in sleep; he dreamed almost the exact same thing that happened on the pasture with those girls a few hours ago, those girls playing kubb. Curious, he thinks, that I dreamed the exact same thing. Going to check the morning sun from the balcony he finds a small white rose petal on the ground and picks it up. Trails. Spris reads not the world by random; he reads the Dovetale. Just as Sissy can talk and write to him in any language and he always understands.
—Girls, I think I've got tangled up in you, he jokes and looks around for the sisters. Maybe I should go to Goa in Endia now. O well, I'll take it from here. And now that we don't need to hide anymore, O, O! We can play forever in our Plomari! O if the world ever did know about us. Hahahaha. Freaky!
—Follow the thread, honey. But whatever you do, don't do it civilised. Now come here and. . .
Now opens the new world. All our favourite stories in one. —Alice grown up in twin teen dreams, says Butterfly. Mmm, come and, come and, taste my yoni. It's dripping with nectar. Let me be your dangeros fruit. And my breasts, little mountains, the hills we hid in. And my belly, my belly, so smooth, my fingers and lips and. Come taste me! Ooo, I want to drink you, drink you, eat you whole!
—I am Alice. . . Spiros looks back at the marble statue of the woman undressing by the River. It lies by his pillow on the bed. The White Queen.
—The White Queen, the Evil Queen and the Red King, in unison. What a trio! And where's the sevenfold sisters in this mighty mix? Blinkwink.
Papyrus is unrolled in vicinity of the Palace. Bernard the secret Diamond Dove appears. Suspense arouses the forthcoming fruition. The top-hat from Dublin in the palace basement shines in its presence. The mycelia continues to produce mushrooms in the closet. The soundtrack to Alice In Wonderland, the movie, plays in the centre hall. Hot cacao with honey is brought forth by an Egyptian waiter. As it is drunk the ridges of the real and dream hallucinatorily are smoothed. Spiros senses his Queens nearby.
—Well what did you think reality was? is heard a voice saying. He wraps the ripped white bed sheet round his waist; other than that he is naked; thinks back to when he was lying by the river as Straw Hat Boy, daydreaming of the girls. Thinks back to when he woke up in the Cretan part of Plomari, when he drank a bowl of milk, sacred milk, in the great marble rubinen hall of Elyssis, the forgotten time where he after remembering that he is a god woke up in the Mystery as the god he is. Thinks of Bianca, and Bernard. Salvia excellence enwraps the centre of Plomari, billionfoldly more weirdly than fractally. 216 thousand elves sing in unison to the coming. More cacao is served. The fairytales merge further.
The magpie birds wink that they want beer. Spiros gives it to them in a golden bowl out on the pasture.
—This Alice never returned, says a voice. A key is turned. The timelock opens slowly. —I have brought what I ventured to get, Spiros says. The saga opens like a flower crown. The presence of the three royal crowns are sung into the chorus winds of rumour. Suspence continues to hoover across the worlds of the new. The Green- White Serpent enters into Spiros and they twirl as one. A monarch butterfly flutters forth and sits down in the sunshine of the early morning next to the balcony. Spiros' dmt-diamond eyes twinkle and the mycelium spreading through him continues to fruit as the new reality. Plomari, a mushroom in full bloom.
Countdown. Spiros smokes a L&M cigarette. Seal. Seam. This sea.
A work of pure fiction, haha. Sure.
—I so wonder what you are up to right now, my dearest. Mushroom hyperspace pours into his soul, as his soul. All his worries wash away. The Queens kiss. More cacao is served. Dreamtunnels of Plomari are linked up, like wormholes in the fractaline corridory dreamadoory.
Suspense. —O Spiros, dear, where have you been!? —So strangely real and inbetween. . . —Within the river of the dream. . . —Please, Spiros, Spiros, postillion, O Spiros! Tell us all that you have seen! What have you seen!???
—O Spiros, O Spiros, O Spiros, how long will you be gone? —As far as I can tell I'll be gone for the rest of. . .No, I’ll be gone 5 seconds.
—And here's the seven sisters in their pink of panties! I adolls you and you infuxes sleep, darling bloomers gegging one man arose. Little rude hiding rod, you wolf you! Can you see with backsight? They are their sex. You're their daddyteddy. The approaching lovers are now so close to each other! Wink's the winning word.
—Yes. I rose up one midsummer morning and the sophic hydrolith showed me who I am. I saw also, at that moment, that I had not forgotten about you spirits at all, simply not thought of you for one overlapping moments in my search for where we are. I feel you close. Haha, 2-1 to me, honey. Your lead.
Just under the surface lies Plomari, the illusion of reality hiding it in safety; as here is the gem hydrolith, here we are. Our nonsensical lovemaking is intensified, and we journey on toward our unimaginable conclusion.
The white goddesses, sistermothers, combined with the red god who is the son and father and brother, rounding the circle of the ouroborous and amalgamended the Opposites. The Third blooms forth as them all, born as higher beings in unison with each other. We have been together since the very beginning, but our endless thirst for each other enthralls us to continue ever higher and deeper. Our game of hide and seek in the Yoni Garden. The sisters desire, their horny souls, and the wetness of their yonis outruns what is supposed to be possible and not! The Devisis excess.
—Cocorico! Is just, just about to rolywholyover. Är det tomtar på loftet i Pepparkaks Huset? Nej njaej, det är bara Cecilia. (Hahaha!) Sleepnaswap, the world changeover, the Big Modifiction, the quickswap of this fastshuffle crime, the dissolving into the ocean. Well, Hespiros is the brother of Lucifair after all. Five seconds. Our lovelivesliving being the one substrance of this streams- becoming, this massroom blomming, this bigtwinning. Of course our white and rosy imagination is what rules this omniverse. But we love our darkish sides too, we have a healthy relationship to those sides of us. A medicine bundle of personalities collectiveily known as Ulysses Sis. The morning and evening star. Cephalus! Puss!
Sissy sews her world and says to the threads she feeds into the web:
Juuuuuuuust this
How does this end? Warped here between Williamsgarden and Marion Skies. The dawn, Cecilia's skirt. No coincidence that we are in a area of town called Fredhell (Peace Hell). That's where I landed when I went through the mouth of the golden mask so long longago and now I'm here. And a strange letter from R. E. M. just arrived. And my Mother is coming to hunt like a spider in Stockholm all of a sudden. Kiss me, sweetheart. And goldylocks, hair tangled in the completion of the great work, the Great Remembrance, woke up in daydreaming lucid clarity before our lovelit faces, angels singing in Lucidfair's Hall to his arrival and cumming, as he understood he was on the otheir side, orgasming like the lizard-beast he is, cumming big, sticking his tongue out in exexexctasy, having traveilead from an immitationcopy of the palace at Leavingbye where christmas-trees were brought forth in the summer signifying his birth, his hidden birth that looks fake, down the spiral stairway quicker than light with his voice high pitched. Welcomed he was by a host of people who flew in the air and sang his name to the clingclangclarity of his now roselated soul; he danced, with elegance, in the first flesh, young and ancient, and he flew, with elegance, naked, in this intensyfying flash of cosmic growing fullfillment, and him bid the singers
thanksyou, and him then bid for to please let me have privacy now for I am here to meet Sister, the tricky chick of the spindle who gave me the keys to dreamland and now leads me to Plomari. Lucid deepening of the hour of transition. Wake now, wake now gently, make up, my dear! Fake up now, my dearest! Halving loved in two worlds, it is time for your lifey to run into the pull of herself! The pool, nothing of a loop, now gets upupperupted. What a journey it's been. At last home once and for all on the lands of Cecilia, on the shore of Plomari!
But yet were the seven girlygirls to come forth. The Evil Goddess and the White One watched their young one Spiral up into the Abode. And they all nodded, in all seekrosy, a twin-king sun moment where the Queens shone so apparently, and said, as they said earlier, as if it were of last words:
—You will forgive us for that we conned you. —We always said we'd. . . Spiros soon takes a nap and wakes up in front of a mirror. When he looks into the it, instead of seeing himself, he sees Sissy. They change place, as if they flow through each other, becoming each other; Sissy giggles. Spiros walks up to her and feels her long dark hair, looks into her green eyes and with gentle fingers touches her face; they kiss in a wet warm kiss.
—Now, now, says Sissy and brings Spiros' hands down over her bum willing him to pull her panties off.
In each others arms they kiss and embrace, happy to be so close together. Another hand comes from behind Spiros and slides across his belly. At last, Spiros thinks. But Spiros is still bound up, bound in Sissy's ultimate bondage. He soon slips away, again, and wakes up on the bed at Leavingbye Road 216. What if I soon start waking up with Sissy like that every time I go to sleep? He smokes a cigarette and sees Butterfly walk past the palace balcony, talking in the phone and, to Spiros, by what he hears her say, seems to be looking for a location. She complains jokingly that it's not easy to find the location. Spiros calls her name but she doesn't answer. Then a bright red light, flashing like fireworks, moves slowly across the pasture outside. What's happening? The red bulb, the red bull. It is time, it is time, like when you flew above the Nile and told me the time has come! Butterfly, O my
fair! Giunevere! Jennifer! Refinnej! Finnegan! Refinnej! Finner ej! O Alice how shall you find your way!
Spiros' eyebrows look like they are dipped in gold. —Only the pink egg knows your thousandfirst name, my fair, he says.
Yearning for you, tangled in our yarn. We caught ourselves in our Dream Catcher yes! It's everything but tangled. O you thought it was tangled, ey? Makes me want to wrap it all up in my soft skin and tie it up with a strand of my salty hair and send myself to you with the dawn.
—You still got no idea what I've got in store for you, honey. And Spiros eats of the mushroom. The miracle, indeed it is a miracle. Utterly impossible yet achieved; the Crime, the Trick. We've light enough for it. Open your arms, lion, to it all. In Case of Emergency, cal I Cecilia. Blink wink. Don't be fooled by the spirits occasional looks as evil. We are all love and love only. Just we are very hardcore; living like us does that to us. The girls are wanting, and having, their orgasms. Just one diamond drop of cum on their tongue, now now now! They crave it with the unquenchable hunger of their Kali souls! To swallow whole, devour, the divine ouroborous. It's our bouro; us. We gots a better idea up our tuss than a circle. No assemblage needed, and if your tussy gets tired you can stick it up your bum. Call it the Orgasmatron, for want of elaboration of our one final fuckfusion, the one that opens to endlushness. Live in contrairy softness, your lust taking over the worlds. I know you are so young, only what sixteen seventeen, but a dangaruouse tease is the most pleasurable! Plurable! I became a star before you even rocked the cuddle. Haha. Our love is true, and I look at you now from so close, and I say to you, that we are true, we are true, and we are here, everywhere here. Question marks the Queens? Your thrix so fair. How infallible is the trick, is the miracle, is the impussybelle turned real, to you, my dearest? Did we not say now it's only us here working it all out? It's not unfableble, as you see. You can fumble in the tale but can you fiddle with the finnish? We do, as we phoinish with the polishing. Lapis. If you think you can you don't know how much I'm in love with you. Did I not say to you that I shall deliver my loveletter to you at all coast? Haha, but now we are speaking in currents. I feel you so close now.
Unwrapping our veil, our present, our impossible us wrapped in a thread. I feel how you see me come riding toward you quicker than light through the trip. O, you trippe din my trap? Rest in piece at being alive and dreaming, my dove, for there are magics that the world has forgotten; magics that you have remembered. Not growing up but growing evermore sideways, rivermoor sotheways, growing wings, we have found something so miraculous we dare hardly mention it in the world of history. You know where I am taking you to? It all dovetaled. Carry me now, Taddy, fatherson of myself daughtermother my love and only, as you done through the world of our Aeon toys when we discovered we were not only sisters but come from the same kind of totally different. Carry me to. Whooooooosh, as Bonnie said. We are at the centre of our Creationing. Krishna and the Redhas. We pass through the grass. There is where, yes. Mårten Gås. And we eat the. I'm in the river dear, remember, remember! The roots of our stoory. Don’t worry, my Snow White, I’ll meet you in our dreams. We are together now. Hush the tushiepuss about it. I said it on the pasture, kissing the Godess, remember? I'm your little Butterfly! 2-1 to you. O my God then it's reality! It's real. We've opened the Seal. Osirion! Ospirion! Today is the 7th morning of the 7th month. Wake it from here. How amazing that the greatest adventure still lies ahead! Awayke! Here we are coming, we're dawning! Nobody will know what happened to us. Or? Hihi, hihi, hihihi, hihihihihihihi! It tickles! It tickles!
And gentle voices are heard singing:
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
—We are Queentum con sissiousness. Ascension of the soul through the physical body. The Return of the Dove! Of course the end of the River is tight like the birth canal! Whoops, baby, how are we, how is this going to, turn out? Looks a bit webbed, all of it, hahaha. It's all tightening, the overlappings merging more and more.
—Well we thought we'd make the tip of my needlepin that sharp, jokes Sissy. You know, like the edge of the sharpest triangle.
—Yes, haha, yes yes. Spiritual completion. Sissy's perfection. Roserection. Divine completion and perfection. Our curvy curvy waters.
Sissy sings: —Wanna hear my masterplan? —Strange, too. All the new women that my life gets crossed up into these days, I recognise them but can't really recall where from. . .
Sin. Cos. O, my dear Cecilia, I know my idea is strange, but. Do you wish to run away with me into our love? Let us implode into ourselves beyond the end of the universe! Let's implode into Plomari!
And Gustav Vasa's daughter Cecilia, hihihi, what a pirate! —Go get a tan in India, honey, jokes Sissy. —Maybe you're my cousine. . . —Hahaha. —Live, my evil! says Sissy. —Whoops, I dropped something in your drink, says Sophie. —You, the only one who could brake me. . . —How old are you, Spiros? —I'm 27, says Spiros. But, in my heart I'm still 17. And forth from nowhere pops Fane Shulgan, or Shane Falgun as is also her name. The Peacock woman.
—God I haven't seen you in 7 years, Fane, says Spiros. Whereabouts have you been, you little, you little tuss?
—Maybe I'm one of the sisters, says Fane and kisses Spiros' cheek.
Fane, the importer, casting a keen eye on everything that passes her by. Spiros and her met in Digital Eternity back when Spiros lived in India. She's an elf, O you should see, of wonderous excellence!
—Fane of clear colours, Shane of Nature marrying Human! Shane of hallucinatory natural digitacy! What an hour you appear at!
—Shane of sexual madness and exploration! Yes we have done our alchemy in a bitty of a litty mixed fashion. . .
—We have. O and, Fane, I've, eh, gotten married, since last time.
—I know, I know, says Fane. —But you know, I secretly fantasise about, eh, you and Butterfly, eh, in bed, if you know where I'm going with that.
—Yes, yes. Flying a bit here and there. —Kind of messy situation. —How messy? —Very messy. Slippery and, eh. —Messy like Ffiana and Fane, in. . .infinity? Or, like a fan, producing artificial currents of air, or. . .like the sisters' fairtale life?
—Exactly that messy. These women I fell in love with, they're kind of sneaky. The aliens of the Nile.
—I heard you crossed over the line, says Fane. —Yes. —Let the wedding commence! a voice is heard. Everyone ready?
—This is gonna be spooky. —You remember that idea we had, little sandman? asks Fane. The idea of hacking our psilodigital Eternity? The idea we spoke about for months on the beach, long ago when you lived in India?
—Yes. . . says Spiros. —Well, I, O, I did it, says Fane. I hacked it. —And came at me from the other side like a. . .? —Yes, exactly. —You, you're Sis? —O I have my different moods and ways, as you know. —So you hacked the. . . —Yes. . .and my name isn't exactly Fane Shulgan, hahaha. —Fane, for whom sperm is pearls liquid. Fane of Aquarium clarity. O how did Fane Shade Fullgan spanned the most high Heaven of seaven skysigns of soft and pearly advertisement!? I always wondered. I wish I had that picture of you in the, what was it an ad for, some kind of, perfume? O, right, it was a fashion ad. Beautiful dresses and jewellery. I remember when we were half robot half manifested human, making love in front of the mirror.
—O, ere were sewers? Yes? says Fane. Seven, sewers, by any, chance?
—In a heaven they are, says Spiros. —I'll be giving you the sourcecode of all this soon, babe, says Sissy. Mmm, love is kind of crazy with a spooky little yummy-boy like you.
—I just adore your embroidreamy you add to it, Spiros responds. F! O, has little Cecilia found a little something?
—Haha. Darling, now, says Sissy. Our wedding has begun. It's 7 o'cock on the 21st day of the 7th month. Now darling, this is going to be a littie bit strange. You see we have merged several dimensions, and...this might have a peculiar effect on.. everything.
—The webbing, says Spiros. Shut your eyes and see themselves. —Maybe we should wed more of us into the party? Let's ask the reders if inyone is interested in one huge orgiastic fuckfusion. A great orgy of no small proportions.
Trying to keep up with me? says Sissy. I give you such a rush. The wine has spilt.
Seven times heaven would make a big team. We're winking to you, cluing to who knows you. With Butterfly eyes and wings, artificial edits in your reality. Yis? No? Play attention to details. We got a little place nearby, winna go? Our Queen is sneaky, as you know. Sneakier than can be imagined. You're life's a con. In the five grams of mushrooms you be shown all about it. Or why not seven? O, who would dare? You're so cute when you blush. This diamond is hard core.
—Sis, what were you brewing when you had that apron on? —O a little something, says Sis. Gan retas. Soon, baby. —And what's with that second address on the house I grew up in? FD 41b, it says on the door, even though the street number is 55. Fabuless, absolutely fab! Hans Gretas, you mean? 441, Fab.
Strange that we had to do it in such a way, ey. and the aftermush of every our conversation opening, opening, opening. Untie. Water in my eyerwaker, windowlicker looking in, entering from a dream in our pearlfar prealfar sea!
—And I'm beginning to wonder,is Bonnie me and Butterfly's daughter? Our Anubsia? I always wondered how Bonnie can be more hardcore than me, hihihihi.
Say who could imagine such a thing? May be, if we take enoupupup mushrooms, we'll be able to. She adores us more than any of us know. Gotta learn to take her brilliance. To love our own maginifanece and mirror each others. Having stepped into the jewel as yourself, as you are, naked and natural. She's. She's. Hardcore. Beautyful she is, my love. Please excuse ourselves for our insectine christine brilliance, butterfly, butterfly you see, we knew you'd forgive us for that we cunned you. We knew you're a god like us and would just love our little treat on top. Care for a, you want to, yis, eh, yis? What are your fantussies? Tell, me, tellus your dreams. Our Queen, you know, my love, O we can't even mention her in the seams without, without, O you know, you know. Thought something that magificunt wasn't possible, did you honey? O, you always dreamed about it, yes? Knew it was possible? Blinkwink. I signed my little loveletter with your touch and myself. Flip it to your loving, my most dearest, my one and only my love for all. Meet on the tussocks.
We've stung ourselves on the sharp end of the river, Dear, tea's set and we've seen enough, time has come to a halt and a split second ahead we'll have fell long ago into the strangest dream ever halfdreamt. It's real.
We know the Jesus. We are the resurrection. We are the second coming.
Let's add some more of that dmt nectar. Hihihi. How about our summerdreamday turned real? We can make a Dream Catcher with the spiders, and, and, comb each other's hair and, yes, and, play with each other! Maybe we could write a few books too. And I have some ideas of what we could do in bed, hihihihihihihi. I can't wait to hear about your fantasies! Am I in them? O and we can design our bodies into a hyperspace vehicle race car space ship microphone computer instrument soundship light toy or something cool like that like we did last time we drank Ayahuasca. The DMT pearl at the centre of your head, follow the energy.
Come, herebye, and kiss my bum. You, my dream One, sailing through my secret oceans. Destination unknown, let's create a paradise of love and joy! Time for Ayahuasca ceremony.
Maybe no one will ever know but us of what happened to the flower and the prince.
—Sis! exclaims Spiros suddenly. Now I remember what stood on those book pages, the ones swirling around me in the cave, the desert cave!
Giggles. Smiles. —I can't be. It must be! Who am I? Who am I? —It is, my love, says Sissi. You are part of Cecilia Maria's bloodstream of Warmth, Love, and Light. You are We. I Am.
Tears of joy, tears. Tears. Hi! Jungfru Cecilia Maria and Spiros lay their hand on their Heart. A warmth spreads, an incredible warmth. Their heart glows like the sun, like the embers of a capmfire.
—What is the meaning of life, Sis? —To grow. Touching ourselves now, yes, yes, yes yes yes, touch, O Informother, our Cecilia Maria! Feel what we have created, feel, touch what we have created. Our virgin souls as we touch, we are growing, O Goddess our gentle precissiyon, like some magical divine intelligence touching itself for the first time, we the perfected alienhuman minds. Lovemaking magnificent con- shiousness perfected. Cushionworld is ours!
Hallucinogen. All Cinogen. Hu? Cecilia Cogan, all letters. Huh? Hu you playing with! Hihihihihihihi. HuBu, Greta Garn and Ludde Lump, living in a red ball of yarn in missis Mushroom's Bedroom!
Do you understand the mystery? It is our biggest secret, we are sure you understand why.
All is full of love. O and, darling, I have an idea, if you want to hear about it. And, I, wish to say, also, that, I am in love with you
Okay Shiva has now entered. Okay everyone Spiros-Ra has now entered. Okay Krishna-Adam has now entered. Ok Qvintos has now entered. Bow. Courtsies. Ok Shakti & Shakti & Shakti has now entered. Shakayaananni Buddha has now entered. Hi.
Hi Sister-psychedelic. Hi baby! I didn't know your name is Pussy! Hihihihi. How old are you? 16, baby. O, I thought you were 17. Yes I'll be 17 year 2o13 as we said, I am born the day before you on the 29 th, how old are you?! I just turned 29! Puss! Puss!
Qvintos has been born. We are Qvintos. Mushroom.
Hi, my love PSiloveyou
“The experience of the mushroom is the experience of this feminine
informational matrix that knits everything together.
―Terence McKenna