Prompt Day #307: Describe a mass hallucination in a surreal and dreamy manner, using first person plural.
I’m behind, I know. I have been on call most of the days of the week before leaving for Vegas. Then I used a day traveling to Vegas (in a very cramped plane where I was unable to move let alone type) and now I am in Vegas. So give me some credit for writing at all! Lol. I’m trying.
Smoke and Honey
We feel the heat before we see the smoke. A warmth flowing through our confined home. We gather around in masses anticipating the effect of the smoke on our senses. It would be foolish to try to flee. We would be forever lost, our sense of direction altered by the smoke. Instead, we’ve learned to indulge in it, experience it for what it is: a distraction of slaves.
The smoke rolls around us and we take it in. Colors run, wavering like the heat of a hot road. We begin to see the world we know in a different way. Giant watercolor flowers ripple in the field like waves. They beckon to us, saying “come, come to me, taste my beauty”. We land and they share their hues with us, we dip our feet into them and our feet become blues, and reds, and yellows. We take a bit of each flower with us as we move from one to the other.
Thick honey drops rain from an impossible ocean above us. We look up as the azure sea turns to gold as it leaves the sky to melt onto our bodies, weighing us down, pressing us deeper into the brush stroked petals. We wallow in them with reckless abandon. It is beauty in every direction. The fields are a Monet and we dance about, laughing. This is not work, this is not our daily grind. This is a pleasure indescribable. As long as the warmth of the smoke caresses us, we see our world as artists do. We experience the flowers with every sense and they, in turn, explore us. It is a sexual partnership and the end result is ambrosia, a nectar of the gods.
As we cool, the world becomes clear once again. Edges straighten and clear. Everything is once again in focus and we’ve been robbed.