and this one is a bunny... and here is an

and this one is a bunny... and here is an owl... now one more shadow before you go to bed." "Can you make the octopus again?" "I don't recall making an octopus."

"I don't recall you." "I don't recall myself." "God?" "No. I refuse." Jean Paul began to giggle, shattering the illusion of hip existential despair. "Oh shit, this is some really

heavy weed maaaaaaan." Jean Paul collapsed and rolled around in total high foolery. Someone with some class grabbed a hockey stick and batted him around. I needed to get to the

guy with the drugs so I could join in the fun. While the crowd played hockey with the high Jean Paul as their puck, I looked about for Dan the Man.

He was standing right behind me, smelling my hair. "Try some ketamine. Relieves chronic pain, treatment resistant depression & makes your brain grow new connections. It's a trip."

"OK. I'll try anything once." I swallowed the pill, and before I could say dissociative anesthetic, I was sliding down into k-land. He was right: no pain. In fact, I couldn't feel

felt as if my brain hemispheres had split apart and were dancing a waltz inside my cranium. As the universe swirled around me in vertical vortices, I reached for my pillbox.

These migraines were a killer. If only they stopped long enough for me to have a decent conversation with - well, anyone at this point. They were so bad that even remembering how t

o finish the last line of my FoldingStory seemed... Uhhhhh.... Ooooooooo....