Free Mind Blower by Marco Vassi Page A

turmoil and struggle.  
    I stumbled into my room and barely had the energy to take my clothes off before flinging myself face down on the bed. For a few ecstatic minutes, I let the currents of tiredness run through me, and then I shifted a little, and fell into a black moving slumber.  
    It was an odd state, as though I were awake and asleep at the same time. I had no consciousness of any particular thing; it was more like a low-level awareness, as though the organism were humming to itself as all the life functions went on. I had a sense, or rather, there was a sense, of blood coursing through my veins and arteries; the great pump of my heart thudded slowly, and pinpoints of electricity flared up at nodal points in my nervous system.  
    And after a while the dreams began. They were not like dreams I ordinarily have, but seemed more like reality. Things appeared dimensionally and with weight. Yet, everything had a spectral quality, as though the objects were transparent. It was an actual borderline feeling, as though fantasy and reality totally merged to produce some hybrid state which was neither fully one nor the other.  
    At first there were only vague shapes, and the sense was of an underwater scene. Greens and blues and purples coalesced and formed and dissolved. All things moved in a dance of quiet chaos. Then the shapes became sharper and the colors changed to brighter blue. Reds appeared. And, through it all, a quality of number came about. Not actual numbers, but the sense of thingness, of unity, of discrete entity. It was a silent music, a movement of law without any substance clinging to it. I felt totally calm and utterly isolated, as though I had landed, the sole human being, on an alien world which was not hostile to me, but simply had no way of relating to me at all. Ghosts of emotion fluttered through me, and I hovered between panic and bliss.  
    The most unnerving thing about the experience was that there was no sense of separation between myself and the dream. I was the dream and the dream was me. All reality was a single thing, and that thing was the movement which surged about in absent awareness of itself.  
    The colors darkened and changed to browns and blacks. And everything seemed to rise up and fold in upon itself. Then, without knowing how or why, I knew that this was the formation of a giant cunt. Simultaneously I was the cunt and inside the cunt and watching the cunt from afar. The sides were in constant motion, a steady rippling like the way tall grass flows in the afternoon wind. It was warm and moist, a kind of Hawaiian feeling of lassitude and ocean.  
    Suddenly shock waves ran through the atmosphere. There was a quickening of pulse and convulsions of the walls. A sweet tremor ran through everything, and the first drops of a pearly-white liquid began to ooze from all the folds. It was pure honey, a sweet, sticky delight of mouth-slackening fluid. Again a tremor ran through the air, and now the drops began to mingle together to form small rivulets. The atmosphere grew heavy and a deep musky smell emanated from inside the recesses of the cavern. From a great distance there was a low moaning sound and a rustle like the wings of a bird that have been suddenly disturbed. A feeling of imminence pervaded all.  
    Suddenly it seemed as though the skies opened, and a rush of white light flooded the opening. The cunt lips were being parted. By now a kind of frenzy washed through everything. An urgency that throbbed like drums.  
    The lips parted wider, and a kaleidoscope of color and sound sped into the hole. The deepest, most secret parts began to unfold and open themselves to the light Simultaneously a great heat poured out from the pores of the walls, and from the black ends of the womb blasts of searing air rolled like tumbleweed throughout the cavern, and rushed out of the opening. The chaos grew, as movement and heat and wet churned together in a growing mix of near desperation. There was a