theta

THETA (An Anecdote in three Parts)

Author: Billy Wayne Davis, Jr.

Mike

I came into the room and closed the door. John was sitting in

the chair at the head of the table wearing his motley-colored

duckbill hat. He looked up to, and to appearances, through me.

His pupils were dilated so intensely that it looked as if the

small blue disks within would crack like crystal at the

sound of a voice. I spoke anyway.

"What's the hap John," I asked. "it's three-thirty A.M. and

I'm out of blow. How can I help you?"

"You wouldn't believe the flowers." He said. "They were

beautiful."

I knew he was out somewhere between New York and Nirvana,

unable to get to either. I figured I could wait it out with him.

This was sealed with me as fact once I saw the lines of white

powder glistening on the mirror which sat on an open drawer of

the table.

I rolled up a C-note and pulled a line gratefully up each

nostril. Both sides of my head burned like I'd just whiffed Drano

cut with shards of glass. The moment of near-panic passed as the

burning sensation turned into pure euphoria. My brain was having

an orgasm which had somehow gotten misplaced while my fingers

splayed out and I balanced on the tips of my toes. I could

have sworn I was floating, then almost lost any sense of self as

a flood of possibilities which I had never thought to encounter

flooded my stream of conscience. I felt a mental membrane pop,

the concept of individuality dissipated in the light of my new

found perceptions. At that moment for me was life, death, and the

everlasting infinity of truth. My own voice spoke up in

recognition of itself, telling me, "Just another epiphany."

A dry clicking noise resonated through my mind as an image

of huge wooden gears spinning inundated my vision. Looking closer

I could see that the image was composed of smaller images,

innumerable pixels which I felt were dictated as God dictated the

world.

My individual voice, speaking into the universe, told me my

brain was doing its job, making me as much of the world as I

could be. I looked at John. A glint of recognition showed that

reality had been tapping him on the head. I saw streams so small,

like trails of neutrinos, following a linear path from his head

to the surface of objects in the room, connecting to more and

creating for me a composite picture of the room as they did so. I

lived vicariously through John.

He looked like a melodramatic graduate of bad acting

school, who happened to be my only savior. The whole room was

alive, but John, as never before. His facade had dropped before

me, as the veil between myself and reality.

Wayne Davis

John:

Worlds were moving within me. A universe of voices which

never reached the point of cacophony called to me. Each voice in

itself a myriad weave of depth, possibility, and paradox.

I slip-streamed into one, a golden terra-form of crystal dew

and lucid sounds. I caught movement with the corner of my eye.

From my viewpoint it seemed to be a covey of worm-like creatures

bundled together beside the flowing stream of water. I walked

cautiously over. My trepidation phased gradually into awe. They

were flowers loving each other in the grass. Not the fleshy

pleasure of sex, but of warmth, of being comfortable in the

sunshine. I turned away, not daring to come closer or question.

The love was theirs. I didn't want to be an alien intruder.

My mind drifted away into a reverie of thought, then

clarified into a room. Omnisciently I watched the people bow

ceremoniously in front of me like false Christians making a deal

with God, the gesture wasn't acted out as an accordance to truth,

but a fear of hell. I stood in pale blue light, cold behind a

wall of glass, impervious to the presence of people until one

failed to bow. My eyes shifted down to him. I'm not sure how long

my mind drifted after that. The office dissolved into my vision

and I suppose it was an orientation back into the real world.

"Hi, how are you, good to see you back,"and all that.

Mike was staring down at me from up on his tip toes as if I were

Joan of Ark come to visit ...trailing fire.

Theta

From the depths of an image I moved inward from outward,

pervading the particles of air, and myself only of little more

substance. A man sat in a room. Into the eye I first went,

creating a domino effect in his thoughts;kicking over old

visions; exposing covered feelings. On a wave of emotion I

rode. How I enjoyed the visions of the man, rarely are they so

rich with significant thought.

Another man arrived. From my new partner thoughts were

transmitted after a time. The man slipped into a reverie of

thought. I visually sampled the two individuals who were, (though

sadly unrecognized), complete with each other. Who welcomed me

and caressed me as I flowed through the open synapses which were

closed doors and connected them, opening new aspects of

perception for myself.

I flowed through ones thoughts by the waters of his emotion,

warmth and serenity were mine to sample as I pleased. I felt

life, and finally, the ride was over.

I enlightened the man to the premonition that he would not

and had not been the same form forever.

To enlighten one of his world is my greatest pleasure. If I

had only known myself the holistic cause.

Well, they all dismiss the idea after a time. Unimportant

profundity, everything joined in some benevolent weave of form,

material, and energy creating past, present, and future, which

are after all, just concepts.

And with their minds closing, it's time for me to find my

way to other places inside and out. There's always more like

these two which to enter and try to make understand. There's

never a limit of minds which to sense and to feel, and pieces

inside of which to awaken, and ameliorate to man. It is

really my only pleasure, the only thing to exist for, for you

see, the dead can't imagine.