Mushrooming Awareness - Part 2

If you have not yet read part one, you should start at the beginning.

Part 2: Disorientation

We turned into a driveway that was our entrance to Norton's Park and were confronted with a red earth baseball diamond behind a high woven-wire fence. The structure seemed impressive and fascinating. So impressive and fascinating in fact, that despite myself and Aiden having cycled past that very place many times before, we now felt compelled to stop and discuss its merits at length. We pointed out to each other details of the metal joins, and speculated about what methods may have been used in its construction. The scale of the operation was difficult to comprehend. We tried to guess the number of dump-truck loads of red earth that would have been used to form the diamond, but failed to come up with a reasonable answer after abandoning an attempt at a calculated estimate.

When we realised that we had been become lost in conversation and had forgotten the purpose of our walk, we laughed then quickly continued along the path to a car park where we spotted Pab's car. I was relieved to see that he and the others had arrived safely. They had been waiting for Aiden and myself to catch up, and so when we did it was time to begin our trek into the forest.

The paths through the trees were narrow and winding, so we trekked single file. For most of the time we were silent, but occasionally someone would remark on what strange effects they were seeing, or that the mushrooms we had tonight seemed to be stronger than those we'd had previously. I was busy in my own thoughts and could only silently nod in agreement upon hearing such observations.

Mikhail and I had been lagging and after a while we became separated from the rest of the group. This was of some concern to me, since I did not know my way around the park, or where in the park the rest of the group were headed. I was walking behind Mikhail, and had been assuming that he knew where he was going. As our pace continued to slow I watched him and became convinced that he did not.

Mikhail spoke occasionally, and when he did his words were expressions of vague doubt. "I don't feel so good," "I don't know about this," he would say to himself as he wandered around, seemingly lost, with his arms feeling the way in front of him. He looked like a shell-shocked conscript, soon to be captured by the enemy or picked off by a hidden sniper. The others were occupied elsewhere, and so fate had cast me in the role of supporting soldier. I kept him under close supervision. Sometimes he would stop and call to me. "Tom! Where are you? I can't see you." When he lost me I would tap him on the shoulder and attempt to reassure him that all was well and we were safe. Sometimes when he claimed he was unable to see me he was looking directly at me.

I was having problems with visibility too, but not yet to the extent that Mikhail seemed to be. As I looked around everything I saw seemed to have been bleached. I figured the lack of contrast was a natural result of the excess light my eyes were receiving through my hugely dilated pupils. Sometimes I thought I saw a grey diamond grid overlaying everything, as if I was peering through a woven wire fence. I may have been seeing a visual echo of my earlier view through the fence at the baseball diamond. Other times it seemed that edges of objects in my view were lightly highlighted with speckled colour, similar to the effect sometimes seen when compressed digital images become corrupted. These effects came in waves. At the peak of the waves, discerning objects from the background was difficult, and I was unable to follow the path. At the troughs I was able to follow the path, but at a rate significantly slower than would have been possible without the mushrooms.

I figured Mikhail at that time was experiencing similar effects, though at a greater intensity. Watching him was like seeing myself in the worryingly near and fast approaching future. Having heard Mikhail's comments about his vision, I expected to lose my vision soon, and that is exactly what happened. The contrast between the greyish bark of the trees, the grey stones of the path, and the light yellow dried out grass of the undergrowth became so poor that I could no longer follow the path. I called to Mikhail. "Mik, I'm right with you now, I can't see a thing. I think we should stop for a while, since it would be dangerous to move."

Mikhail's faint response was uncertain, but in agreement. I crouched down but remained on my feet, as I realised that I had not taken note of my immediate surroundings, and so was unaware of what dangers were lurking around me. I felt with my hands to make sure the ground was suitable for sitting on, and when I was satisfied, I sat. Despite the loss of my vision, I still felt in control. My plan was to wait until my sight returned, enjoying whatever effects the mushrooms brought me as I did, and then to resume walking the path. I explained my plan to Mikhail, who was a few metres away from me somewhere on my right. Then I settled in for an extended period of rest and recuperation. To pass the time I pondered my strange predicament.

The previous day I had been working at my part-time job as an electronics lab technician. It was a very modern workplace, with computers and high-tech machinery used in a tightly regimented small-scale production line. I would have to return to that job the morning after next. Presently I found myself seated alone in the middle of a forest, blinded and immobile, with night fast approaching. It seemed as if I had stepped thousands of years backwards in time, to when man's only source of illumination besides sunlight was fire, and when a lone hunter roaming the woods would often find himself far from a campsite when darkness fell.

The reason I had chosen to participate in the mushroom trip had a lot to do with that image. I would have passed on the opportunity had the drug been a modern one such as acid or DMT, but mushrooms have always grown naturally, and so I imagined that throughout the entire history of man, accidental consumption would have resulted in a few lost hours of confusion and strange behaviour for unwitting or lost foragers. Therefore I viewed mushrooms as a natural part of the environment of man, and I felt fine about a little experimentation.

I mused for a while longer on how a prehistoric man, returning from a mushroom trip, would explain his unscheduled disappearance to his fellow tribesmen. A grunt, a raised eyebrow or two, some shrugs of shoulders, and that, I figured, would conclude the investigation. The experience would be purged from memory, and the tribe would go back to hunting and foraging.

My thoughts drifted back to the present day. Now, where was I? I was surprised to find that I hadn't the faintest idea. Just as I had imagined the memories of the cave men disappearing as they returned to their normal routine, my context switch from present to past then back to present had resulted in the purging of my own short-term memories. I was now not only blind and alone, but lost in a more profound sense than I had ever been before.

Continued in Part 3: Disconnection