Chapter 29: Mouthful.

“The size of my forearm, reduced to this beauty.” —he presented a dose. He had been working at his kitchen all day, preparing multiple feet worth of cacti. His kitchen comprised of a blender connected to a power inverter, a propane stove, and a few utensils. Geometric stars had been sliced into prisms, then shredded. Pulp and water had danced for hours, an exhausting dance that had left their essence on the floor, while their matter had gone into the heavens above.

“Drink it without a breath!” -the slimy green concoction looked strangely alluring. Maybe I just liked salsa verde too much, and my brain looked for a visual connection towards pleasure.

Ugh. The taste was awful. Wachu. It was a trip through a series of acrid tastes. Fortunately, Baariq had anticipated that, and gave me a tepid glass of orange juice. He should have given them to me already mixed.

He knew that I knew where we were heading that morning. We weren't idiots, and we had respected the gods: by feeding ourselves properly in preparation for chronicling the desert's minor deities.

Time, as compressible and incomprehensible as it seemed that morning, led to us wanting to move, after many calm and forgotten conversations with Baariq. Laughter, connection, reminiscence —all of them visited that afternoon. And left, leaving no trace.

As the sunset came, we walked through the desert. This wasn't like other walks —e.g. “sneaking” into the campground to take a shower with tokens I had to paid for. This was an adventure, and the ondulating shrubs around me constantly reminded me of that.

A somewhat guided adventure: It still felt venturous, yet at the same time, it was as if the walk was along a path marked by invisible, breathing walls.

I had been generally distrustful, however no part of me doubted Baariq at that place and time, at any level. It was a partner in the adventure, and I spent no useless minute thinking of the ways he might betray me. And, for once, that was good. Unequivocally.

The adventure wasn't unscathing. The giant rattlesnake in front of us tried to warn us. Baariq, unable to hurt any other living being, chose a different path. Maybe the walls weren't unbreakable.

The path we led had a moment of relief. Not even the wind visited that moment. It was there where I was Baariq, but not only him. I was everyone, everyone I felt around. I was the Universe, and was accompanied by the many souls that my identity had swallowed. Souls like the stars in the night sky, that illuminated my intermittent discourse. Souls that weren't many. Souls shared by trillions of beings in the ubiquity of our entwined existences. Then, my identity had disappeared in a blur in which the many forms gathered around.

The peace that the feeling of togetherness brought was immense. I wasn't alone. I wasn't only me.

And in that place I dwelt, for what seemed like ages, myself growing red and grainy, surrounded by the particles of every other consciousness in the world, and with two extremely clear identities, represented by the runes ᚾ and ᚹ.

“Wow, you're really talkative when you're tripping.” —in the outside of the dream, Baariq said.

“Really? I didn't know.”

“I wish I had heard the other side of the conversation, though.” —Baariq complained.

I laughed.

“Me too... I guess.”

“There was a lot of coherence in it. I knew when you changed interlocutor.”

I should have asked him, specifically, what did I actually say. Now I doubt that it was any nonsense about runes and floating souls interconnected like spaghetti in chunky sauce. Instead, I replied:

“I guess I had some person in mind. I don't know. But I'm very glad that we only had the night sky as a companion.”

“Whoever you were talking to... even if it was yourself, made you happy. For the many hours I have known you, I hadn't seen your happiness until then. Don't forsake that angel.”

I felt the urge to correct Baariq. I repressed the urge.

“whomever” —I thought.