why did dex quit smoking weed? was his proclivity toward astral realization so great that it outweighed his lead foot in samsara? a heavy buddy holly-clad foot that, when nude, floated up from florida like a feather. where the sun shines and ages. did those premonitory dreams trigger such gut-rippling discoveries as a costume-clad sea monster splashing about like a baby bear, leaping off of black rocks and bringing everyone joy? there is really nothing so bad about joy that can't be remedied by more joy.
the innocence inside that sea-bear costume brought my feral dream spirit to mind finally, after so many years of longing and trying not to want. perhaps dex was wearing a costume, too, and perhaps now he's taken it off.
the sea-bear has visited me on a few occasions, rare evenings that have brought about my own mild projections and potent memories of other dimensions. tufts of reddish fur are no match for fiery war scenes and other things i'm not inclined to dream about, so i leave it to him while i sit here seeing sun spots.
maybe the heat got to him - the steady burn that i feel down below. an exuberant spirit bear brought me the visionary knowledge i needed to feel love - to feel his love. to give. i rode determined into the east on horse-back and dismounted only when i reached the shore.
no visions of oil sands or eerie basements or desert battles. no fire, no icy fingers and voices. just innocent eyes and purply-red fur. just a little more love to go around. who am i to tell him that he should stay away from those pills? we all have vices.
the fewer, the better.
