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Rocky dreams of mini nuke - part 5 - all shroomed up

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The genial allurer turned to the table rock behind us, and continued:

"In these fungus bowls we foment the extract of life. The precious 
cordial is as a union of the quintessential spirits of joy, peace, 
tranquillity, happiness, and delight. Could man abstract from ecstasy 
the thing that underlies the sense that gives that word a meaning, his 
product would not approach the power of the potent liquids in these 
vessels."

"Of what are they composed?" I asked.

"Of derivatives of the rarest species of the fungus family," he 
answered. "They are made by formulæ that are the result of thousands of 
years of experimentation. Come, let us not delay longer the hour of bliss."

Taking me by the hand, my graceful comrade led me to the nearest bowl. 
Then on closer view I perceived that its contents were of a deep green 
color, and in active commotion, and although no vapor was apparent, a 
delightful sensation impressed my faculties. I am not sure that I 
inhaled at all,—the feeling was one of penetration, of subtile, magic 
absorption. My companion took a tiny shell which he dipped into the 
strange cauldron. Holding the tiny cup before me, he spoke the one word, 
"Drink."

Ready to acquiesce, forgetful of the warning I had received, I grasped 
the cup, and raised it to my lips, and as I did so chanced to glance at 
my tempter's face, and saw not the supposed friend I had formerly 
observed, but, as through a mask fair in outline, the countenance of an 
exulting demon, regarding me with a sardonic grin. In an instant he had 
changed from man to devil.

I dashed the cup upon the rock. "No; I will not drink," I shouted.

Instantly the cavern rung with cries of rage. A thousand voices joined 
as by accord, and simultaneously the throng of fragments of men began to 
revolve again. The mysterious spiral seemed to unwind, but I could not 
catch the method of its movement. The motion was like that of an 
uncoiling serpent bisected lengthwise, the two halves of the body 
seeming to slide against each other. Gradually that part of the cavern 
near the stone on which I stood became clear of its occupants, and at 
last I perceived that the throng had receded to the outer edge.


[paragraph continues] Then the encircling side walls of the amphitheater 
became visible, and as water sinks into sand, the medley of fragments of 
I humanity disappeared from view.

I turned to my companion; he, too, had vanished. I glanced towards the 
liquor cauldrons; the stone was bare. I alone occupied the gigantic 
hall. No trace remained to tell of the throng that a short time 
previously had surrounded and mocked me.

Desolate, distracted, I threw myself upon the stone, and cursed my 
miserable self. "Come back," I cried, "come back. I will drink, drink, 
drink."
Then, as my voice reverberated from the outer recesses, I caught a sound 
as of music in the distance. I raised my head and listened—yes, surely 
there was music. The melody became clearly distinct, and soon my senses 
were aware that both vocal and instrumental music were combined. The 
airs which came floating were sweet, simple, and beautiful. The voices 
and accompanying strains approached, but I could distinguish no words. 
By and by, from the corridors of the cavern, troops of bright female 
forms floated into view. They were clad in robes ranging from pure white 
to every richest hue, contrasting strangely, and in the distance their 
rainbow brilliancy made a gorgeous spectacle. Some were fantastically 
attired in short gowns, such as I imagine were worn by the dancing girls 
of sacred history, others had kirtles of a single bright color, others 
of, many shades intermingled, while others still were dressed in 
gauze-like fabrics of pure white.

As they filed into the cavern, and approached me, they formed into 
platoons, or into companies, and then, as dissolving views come and go, 
they presented first one and then another figure. Sometimes they would 
stretch in great circling lines around the hall, again they would form 
into squares, and again into geometrical figures of all shades and 
forms, but I observed that with every change they drew nearer to the 
stone on which I rested.

They were now so near that their features could be distinguished, and 
never before had I seen such loveliness in human mold. Every face was as 
perfect as a master's picture of the Madonna, and yet no two seemed to 
possess the same type of beauty. Some were of dark complexion with 
glossy, raven hair, others were fair with hair ranging from light brown 
to golden. The style of head dress, as a rule, was of the simplest
description. A tinted ribbon, or twisted cord, over the head, bound 
their hair with becoming grace, and their silken locks were either 
plaited into braids, curled into ringlets, or hung loosely, flowing in 
wavelets about their shoulders. Some held curious musical instruments, 
others beautiful wands, and altogether they produced a scenic effect of 
rare beauty that the most extravagant dream of fairyland could not 
surpass. Thus it was that I became again the center of a throng, not of 
repulsive monsters, but of marvelously lovely beings. They were as 
different from those preceding as darkness is from daylight.

Could any man from the data of my past experiences have predicted such a 
scene? Never before had the semblance of a woman appeared, never before 
had an intimation been given that the gentle sex existed in these silent 
chambers. Now, from the grotesque figures and horrible cries of the 
former occupants of this same cavern, the scene had changed to a 
conception of the beautiful and artistic, such as a poetic spirit might 
evolve in an extravagant dream of higher fairy land. I glanced above; 
the great hall was clothed in brilliant colors, the bare rocks had 
disappeared, the dome of that vast arch reaching to an immeasurable 
height, was decorated in all the colors of the rainbow. Flags and 
streamers fluttered in breezes that also moved the garments of the 
angelic throng about me, but which I could not sense; profiles of 
enchanting faces pervaded the glimmering space beyond; I alone was but 
an onlooker, not a participant of the joys about me.

The movements of the seraph-like figures continued, innumerable forms 
and figures followed forms and figures innumerable, and music 
indescribable blended with the poetry of notion. I was rapt, the past 
disappeared, my former mind was blotted from existence, the world 
vanished, and I became a thrill of joy, a sensation of absolute delight.

The band of spirits or fairy forms reached the rock at my feet, but I 
did not know how long a time they consumed in doing this; it may have 
been a second, and it may have been an eternity. Neither did I care. A 
single moment of existence such as I experienced, seemed worth an age of 
any other pleasure.

Circling about me, these ethereal creatures paused from their motions, 
and, as the music ceased, I stood above them, and yetin their midst, and 
gazed out into a distance illimitable, but not less beautiful in the 
expanse than was the adjacent part. The cavern had altogether 
disappeared, and in the depths about me as far as the eye could reach, 
seemingly into the broad expanse of heaven, I saw the exquisite forms 
that I have so imperfectly described.

Then a single band from the throng lightly sprung upon the stony terrace 
where I stood, and sung and danced before me. Every motion was perfect 
as imagination could depict, every sound was concentrated extract of 
melody. This band retired to be replaced by another, which in turn gave 
way to another, and still another, until, as in space we have no 
standard, time vanished, and numbers ceased to be numbers.

No two of the band of dancers were clothed alike, no two songs were 
similar, though all were inexpressibly enchanting. The first group 
seemed perfect, and yet the second was better, and each succeeding band 
sung sweeter songs, were more beautiful, and richer in dress than those 
preceding. I became enveloped in the æsthetic atmosphere, my spirit 
seemed to be loosened from the body, it was apparently upon the point of 
escaping from its mortal frame; suddenly the music ceased, the figures 
about became passive, and every form standing upright and graceful, 
gazed upon my face, and as I looked at the radiant creatures, each 
successive face, in turn, seemed to grow more beautiful, each form more 
exquisite than those about.

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Rocky dreams of mini nuke - part 5 - all shroomed up gilber34 <invalid@invalid.com> - 2015-09-04 18:30 -0500

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