DOWN A RABBIT HOLE, UP A WHIRLWIND

It wasn’t long after this, at the ripe age of twenty that Davin was doing crank with two near by neighbors, its a cheap cocaine alternative and they were lounging, talking and drinking beer. This was taking place at Clives mothers apartment, Clive was Davins best friend and he had been staying with the two of them for about a month or so. Clive was a practicing entertainer and was out performing till late into that night.

These neighbors were both very biker-ish looking, worn jeans and bandannas, though Davin didn’t really know if either of them actually owned a bike, or bicycle for that matter. They all just happen to be in the corridor and decided to share what they had with each other. After a couple of lines and some random talk the one named Duke, a heavy set guy with a T-shirt one size too small that was always displaying his bellybutton, exposed a rather beefy looking joint. Davin took it and looked it over as the other fellow, a husky Mexican with a big mustache explained what lacing means and how that particular joint was laced with something known as PCP. Then they proceeded to do what is known as power hitting, where one person puts the lit end of the joint into their mouth and blows gently creating a thick surge of smoke as the other person draws it in.

Davin was found later unresponsive, sitting upright on the couch, Clives mother was a nurse and took a big chunk of the fatty flesh near his elbow and twisted it. Davin was dead and he remained so for a full forty seconds before he awoke in an ambulance; forty seconds may not seem like much, but if you would just take a moment to sit there for forty seconds and get a feel for its length of time, you may have better understanding. It was the taboo that got him, he took an upper with a downer and at some point his body didn’t know which way to go, so it just shut down.

Forty seconds of death can be like a dinner party of hateful people, or like a picnic on cool grass with blue skies, and since Davin didn’t have enough time to get to know the people he was with, were gonna go with the latter. There he was lying on his back surrounded within the fold of a warm bright light, the feeling, so indescribable, it was as some kind of perfection, someplace where the rattling cage of emotions was soothed. He didn’t fight it or question it, and why should he, this is something he was unable to find in life and here he was taking it all in, what seemed to be more like twenty minutes of perfection and bliss. People began to appear around him, he couldn’t make out faces, just figures through the brightness of the light. They stood there for a moment, some kind of afterlife welcome party maybe, and then they crouched down and began to lift Davin up to his feet; where he awoke staring at the light inside an ambulance, “Do you know what year it is?” the medic asked Davin, “No,” he replied calmly. You see Davin in spirit had visited the afterlife but upon his re-consciousness his fleshy mind in thoughts and the fleshy body of emotions had to come up with a story. So the story was that he traveled from the future into the past and they were reviving him from that journey.

Some recovery and some time with family, a few mandatory drug classes, and Davin was back into the world. Once again his vision and sight was reset to anew, and he would find himself sitting in strange contemplation, trying re-connect with that place of perfection. Was that heaven? Was that God?.. Who’s to say and who could really know, what happened was real, but unexplained, and Davin wanted an explanation. Oddly enough he soon found that if he drank a certain amount of alcohol he would reach that place again, or at least a facsimile of that place, where everything would seize, the clattering of emotions and the rampaging thoughts would fall still. Automatic drawing became a side effect, and he was drawing upside down, right side up, right handed, left handed, and even eyes closed. His work became popular and he was luring in crowds with his speed and accuracy, participating in local events, cafe’s, and galleries. Where was he really though, he was popular and maybe on his way to fame even, but none of that is what he was seeking, he wanted that place again, that place of perfection, of grace, a place he began to recognize and call as home.

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