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It had been a while since I had a consistent source of weed. I had moved out of my apartment in Westminster to a house in Northglenn and stopped going to the college where my dealer went to school. On top of that my dealer moved out of town to the north into Boulder. I was a half hour drive away from him in Northglenn and when I moved further south to Castle Rock he was pretty much unreachable.

As a result I suffered through one of my friends who insisted on buying weed from the shadiest sources that always tried to get more for less and after a few months I started looking for my own go-to guy.

A friend of my brother's knew a few different people including this girl who was going to college at Metro and was fairly close to where I worked at the Datacenter. I went with him to buy some pot and he mentioned I was looking for a new hookup. We traded numbers and it was done.

She had some amazing weed. I had been able to get a hold of some crazy strains in Westminster like Sour Diesel, but whatever it was she was selling was off the fucking chain. I tried asking her a few times what it was, but she insisted she had no idea. She said her source was a grower, which I doubted, but cared less in the end. It was probably those doe eyes of hers. I had no idea how she sold pot looking so goddamn innocent all the time. Her boyfriend was some guy going to college out of state and her customer base was your typical white trash lot. They were always friendly, but it wasn't the kind of people I was used to hanging out with.

These weren't marijuana enthusiasts like my initial smoking base. These were sports fans, Harley riders, college preps, and the occasional beatnik. Beer pong playing, fast car driving, never gunna die, 90210 clan. I felt like the odd one out. I was the one with the big paying job, the one with the luxury vehicle and too much money with too much education. I was the old guy in the young skin.

She eventually warmed up to me and pot dealing small talk turned personal slowly but surely.

One day she asked me if I wanted any mushrooms probably knowing I wouldn't refuse those eyes of her's, but I played it off as best as I could.

"What mushrooms?"

"The tupperware"

I grabbed the plastic container out of her giant stash box and opened it up to see a giant bag full of what looked like chopped up, half burnt packing peanuts.

"These are mushrooms?"

"Ya, ever done them before?"

"No... I wouldn't even know what to do."

"Their 25 an eighth. I recommend starting with that."

"I just eat em right?"

"Yup, and enjoy. Make sure your somewhere comfortable."

"I don't think you want me tripping in your bed."

"Hahaha, funny. Do you want an eighth?"

"I'll take a quarter."

"You sure?"

"Lets do it."

I brought them home and loaded my bong that I bought from a head shop up in boulder for 285 cash. My fridge was practically empty except for a six pack of 1554 and summer sausage with smoked gouda cheese. I snacked a little and then smoked a bowl while staring at the mushrooms. I had no plans for the day or the next for that matter so I decided I would eat the shrooms.

I knew I didn't want to do it alone, but the opportunity to explore myself spiritually was too great to waste it on anyone who I wasn't comfortable with. I called Her first, knowing that she would refuse on short notice and she did. I called my brother next who agreed to do them with me, but I would have to wait until that night.

I did so in my kitchen, smoking weed nonstop while listening to whatever random music my computer decided to play from my library. I avoided the beer in the fridge and walked to Quiznos for a sandwich when I got hungry.

When he arrived he brought some orange juice with him and said we would use it as chaser.

We each took our little bags full of smoked packing peanuts and ground them up as best as we could on some paper which we used as a funnel to pour the now grey powder into our mouths. The taste was a bit like dirt, or grass from a dirty lawn. I can barely remember, but the orange juice was a perfect chaser.

It took it a while to come on, but after about 45 minutes I could feel a small stitch in my side. It wasn't painful or very uncomfortable, but I could definitely feel it. Shortly after that the tapestries on my walls began to wave like the ocean.

Actually it was the ceiling fan in my living room that made the tapestries move, but I hadn't noticed them before. The motion was so smooth, so definite, I could barely believe I just hadn't noticed them before.

Shortly after that the walls themselves began to wave and I knew the mushrooms had kicked in. I told my brother and he looked at the wall astonished. Then we both began to giggle and we knew we were tripping.

I got really excited at first and wanted some sausage and cheese so I started making snacks. While in the kitchen, talking to my brother and making snacks. My body decided on its own accord that it would sit down. I sat down on the kitchen floor and my brother cracked up laughing again.

"Why are you down there?"

"I dunno, but I like it here, hand me the cutting board."

After I was finished in the kitchen I decided to go outside for a cigarette. My brother joined me and we had a moment of silence for the tobacco plants that sacrificed themselves for our enjoyment.

Somewhere towards the end of my cigarette I received this heavy, uncomfortable feeling of someone or something watching us, wanting us, wanting in my apartment. I couldn't see anything and didn't mention it to my brother, but a small tingle of fear ran up my spine.

I remembered to have faith and never fear. I imagined my own sacred space surrounding me and my brother just outside my apartment and when my cigarette was done I quickly went inside. My brother followed quickly. Once inside I lit a cedar wood incense and began walking around the entire boundary of the apartment.

When my brother asked what I was doing I said we needed to declare a sacred space if we were going to continue to trip in the apartment.

"A sacred space?"

"Ya, for protection."

"Protection from what?"

"Whatever is outside."

"Right."

I knew he knew what I was talking about.

When I was done we kind of just sat in silence, listened to my music and contemplated to ourselves.

I realized this trip was strong and that we needed to draw a path to walk down or else we could get lost.

I grabbed my Tarot deck and asked my brother to sit with me.

"I don't think that’s a good idea."

"Don't worry, the Tarot isn't evil and the story always comes to an end."

I immediately began opening the deck by shuffling the cards. Once that was done I started talking out loud about the tarot, my brother listened intensely.

I was almost in a trance, when I normally attempted to explain the tarot to others it came out broken and dirty, like rocks falling down a mountain. This time it flowed like a calm river, one you could see right through to the bottom with all the fish in between.

I separated the deck into the major and minor arcana. The minor arcana I continued to separate into four suits. I explained that each suit was one of the four elements. Swords were air, Wands were fire, Cups were water, and Pentacles were earth. We picked up the pentacles and I felt heavy, slow, solid. My brother said the cards felt heavier than before and I knew we were on the same wavelength. When we picked up Wands we felt hot, I noticed myself beginning to sweat. When we picked up Cups I had to pee.

Wands were interesting. At first I didn't feel anything, but I saw my brother holding his half up to his lips. I giggled a bit and asked him why he was kissing the cards. He blinked, and shrugged.

"Its almost like it helps me breath."

I tried the same thing and noticed it as well.

When we got to the major arcana something unexplainable happened. To this day I still can't explain it, but I do the best I can.

When I picked up the Fool, the story of the Tarot opened up before me. I saw myself in the middle of an unexplainable landscape. I explained the card of the fool and the story of the Tarot to my brother while watching the landscape shift and bend in my mind. I saw myself and my brother in the landscape and began to wander. He followed close behind as I explained each card in the tarot. I explored the spiritual world in front of me. One that was beyond my apartment or living room or the space in between me and my physical brother.

I continued to just talk for about an hour when all of a sudden my brother refused to follow. I was talking about the lady under the moon when he stopped and refused to know what I was talking about. I realized quickly he wasn't seeing what I was seeing, even though he was there with me. I could tell he was still focusing with his physical eyes and I attempted to shift his mind back to the spiritual reality where I wanted to stay.

"Ok, so there you are right now right?"

"Uh... ya"

"See me with your eyes right?"

"Uh... ya"

"See me with the eyes that don't belong to you, but belong to you"

"Uh..."

"Not the physical you, look at me with your THAT!"

I clapped my hands as loud as I could.

"THAT!"

I clapped them again.

It was all instinct, or trance, or something, but when I noticed a shift in the person that was exploring this spiritual landscape with me I didn't know what else to do. It worked though. He figured it out on his own and understood perfectly in the end.

The rest of the night we explored each card of the Tarot going through the ups and downs, the challenges and freedoms of the story, the great myth.

It was a life changing experience to say the least, for both of us I believe.

I still can't entirely explain to myself what happened that night. Either I left my body and met my brother in some sort of ethereal or astral realm, or we were just tripping hard.

Either way we were sitting on the living room floor of my apartment, discussing things face to face that neither existed or was ever seen before by either of us.

The next morning I played my bass guitar for hours. When I was done my brother had brought me Quiznos and I couldn't feel my fingertips.