Faces smear across my eyeballs. Kaleidescopic heartbeats of color. Mouths open and close and I am vaguely aware that I am talking to people. I am having a conversation.
Pinpoints of light dance behind my eyelids... Velvety light that pulses with sexual innuendo. Light heartbeats. Lightbeats. You can touch the light. I lift my hand in an effort to cup the glossy illuminations in my palm.
Is that question directed at me? What did they ask me? They're looking at me expectantly, waiting for a sentence. Words hang in the air around me, from the conversation that was. I try to pluck them, like cherries and place them in my vocal basket for proper distribution. But I am busy. Busy thinking thoughts that have never been thought before. I am forging new territory here. My life has changed forever. I am seeing things more clearly than I ever have. It's all so easy. How come I didn't see this before?
They still want me to answer the question. What was the question?
Wordswordswordswordswords... The word word is weird... isn't it. It doesn't seem like a word. Say it.... WOOOORRRRRD. Weird. Weird sounds like word... Say it.. WEEEEIIIIRRRD. Weird word weird word weird word.
What do they mean? I am backstroking through the most luxurious ocean of new thoughts and perspectives. I will be okay. It will be okay. I rocket back to my body and some semblance of propriety and realize I appear to be vaguely retarded to those I am conversing with. Here. In this bar.
Answer the question.
What was the question? Oh my god. Everyone is staring at me. Everyone knows I'm stoned. They all know. There's my mother-in-law. She's waiting for my response. But she knows I'm stoned. Everyone's watching. I open my mouth to prove them wrong, to formulate an intelligent response and continue the conversation that has apparently been on pause like a movie while I go to the bathroom. Like the characters in the movie, we all stand, motionless, while we wait for my mind to return from it's bathroom break and press PLAY.
Theyknowyouarehigh-Theyknowyouarehigh-Theyknowyouarehigh- They-know-you-are-high. They. Know. You. Are. High.
Again, I open my mouth to construct an intelligent response. I push hard... sweating like a woman in labor, trying to give birth to a competent sentence. But nothing comes.
"I am SO stoned!" I gush to my mother-in-law then proceed to giggle with the ferocity of a howling banshee.