The Flammarion Syncope

by Garret Ford

  The remembrance.

  A shared dream is within a greater dream.

  I am alive.

  I am not forgotten.

  The curtain is pulled across the stage.

  The vision is the same at the end for everyone.

  The house lights come up.

  I am aware.

  I am the watcher of the mind.

  The moment is precious.

  Comic book. Gritty cheap pages.

  Life is a puppet show. I forgot I am here to watch.

  Oubliette.

  An end will come beyond my control.

  The beginning will come beyond my control.

  Aleph observing I. Punch and Judy.

  Enkidu and Gilgamesh. Cain and Abel.

  Izanami and Izanagi. Ravenna and Vishnu.

  The shattered mirror,

  The faces of godhead,

  Each shard,

  I, Shard of God.

  Sing now muse.

  Namu-Amida-Butsu

  Reflect truth,

  Tell lies.

  Sweet lovely lies.

  Myriad mirror shards,

  Reflecting Aleph,

  Each shard is aware,

  The curse of self,

  Each mote imagines itself a god.

  Each shard believes their own reflection is the self,

  Forgetting their greater whole,

  Woe betides.

  Lost shard brings painful cuts.

  Mortal pains and desire

  The curse of I.

  We are sitting on a dingy old chesterfield in the basement. A bare light bulb hangs from the roof. My friends from work took me to a house party; hook-ups in the bedrooms, cocaine in the bathroom, I’ve never been to a party like this. Overwhelmed, I go into the basement. The basement had a small tube television set blaring some Japanese show with giant robots fighting aliens on top of a plastic looking city. My boss, an old stoner, and I had gone down to the basement together.

  My boss was an odd old balding guy who wore shirts stolen from the set of Miami Vice. Clean shaven and fast talking he tended to mumble, especially when giving directions.

  The old stoner was equally odd. His long stringy hair hung down past his shoulders and he wore a tight Pink Floyd T-shirt which accentuated his pot belly. The sounds of people fucking echoed from above, the occasional thud, and muffled cry of pleasure.

  “I haven’t done this before.” I said.

  “Man, you have to inhale, but breath into it, like you know, then hold it in, then let it out.” The old stoner said.

  “Don’t hold it in too long.” My boss mumbled.

  “Okay. I’ll give it a try.” I said taking the joint.

  I inhaled deeply and held it in. I feel the warmth of the smoke fill my lungs. Nothing happens… but then I start coughing.

  “Whoa Man. One toke over the line!” The old stoner said.

  “What is… in that- it’s all burning inside…” I said.

  “You did it all wrong man, like you probably inhaled some ash or something. Watch me do it, then you try again okay.” The old stoner said as he took another puff and then handed it back to me.

  “Don’t skip me.” My boss said.

  “Oh, sorry man, here you go.” The old stoner replied taking the joint from me and handing it to my boss.

  “Thanks.” My boss said taking a puff before passing it to me. “Now you can do it.”

  “I still don’t feel anything” I said, lifting the joint to my lips.

  I felt the burn again and began to cough. Then it hit me. All the way down to my toes. I feel warm and fuzzy with a certain peculiar lightness to my body. The room widened- time slowed to a crawl, the experience of one moment, stretched into infinity. The sublime sensation washed over my body. They nodded to each other knowingly.

  “What?” I said, bleary eyed and high as fuck.

  “Well, my work here is done, man.” The old stoner said taking the joint for a puff. “I can return to my own time.”

  “Job well done.” My boss said taking the joint from me for a long drag.

  “Huh?” I said in a stoned daze.

  “Yeah man, you are high now. What’s the first time like?” The old stoner said taking the joint for a puff.

  “It’s fucking. Fucking. Fucking. Fun.” I said in a slow staccato, waving my hand in front of my face, watching the Planck trails.

  “Man, when was my first time. I must have been a little younger than you.” The old stoner said.

  “Yeah, enjoy. Fucking fun.” My boss mumbled taking the joint for a long drag, he coughed.

  A girl came down from the party upstairs.

  “Hiya.” She said, smiling awkwardly.

  “Hey man, you want a puff?” The old hippy gestured to the joint being passed around.

  “I’m a girl.” She said, laughing, and toked with us.

  “Everyone is man- we all got hands, man.” The old stoner said, waving his hand in front of my face.

  “Is this your first time too?” My boss mumbled.

  “Nah, I smoke all the time. Probably too much.” She said.

  She rummaged, looking for something, and left, disappointed.

  “Man, do you smoke up with all your employees?” The old stoner asked, taking the joint for a puff.

  “Nah, only the cool ones.” My boss said; I felt proud.

  “The rest is you.” The old stoner said, handed me the rest of the joint. “Don’t drop the roach on the floor though, the cat will eat it.”

  “...” I said as I took another long drag, finishing the joint.

  Pumpkin, Nothing is here.

  Nothing but sleep, Pumpkin.

  Surrender and sleep.

  OR

  Dream and ascend.

  Either way, Choose.

  Brief life, crying shame.

  With only yourself to blame.

  What does Iris see?

  CHAOS!

  Why does Lila dance?

  MUSIC!

  Why does Maya laugh?

  PLAY!

  Namu Amida Butsu.

  Life never makes any sense, death either.

  Thus, we make art.

  Chapter 6.

  “Life is like a pie, you get what you put into it, and is best when you share it.”

  Chad H. North

  I wake up on the cold pavement. My face hurts from the fall. I look up and people are standing above me talking. They start asking me questions and I don't know how to answer. I quickly try to figure out where I am. Work or school? A clock, masks, and coats.

  “What happened, a voice from the crowd.” They ask.

  I want to go back to sleep. I don't want to deal with my life. The world is still spinning. I don't know what to say. They help me up and put me into a chair.

  “Do you have a history of epilepsy?” They asked.

  “How did I get here?” I reply, or try to, all I do is gurgle nonsensically and shake- foaming at the mouth.

  The world melts away again. I feel relieved as I lose consciousness. I can deal with reality later. Fainting is a curious thing. If fainting is anything like death, then I won't mind dying. Wading into a river in summer time; walking through the woods on a snowy evening; cold dust on the skin, then the body fades, and reality is forgotten, you awaken on the other shore.

  Cold February night. I awaken laying in the snow bank outside my rental basement suite clutching a half burned joint and my lighter. My hands are ice, my legs stiff. I wonder how long I had been laying there in the cold. I slowly get up and stagger inside.

  The basement suite is cramped, an old chesterfield stinks of weed and sex, there is a tent set up behind it. There's an old tube television blaring an obnoxious comedy program. The four horsemen of the apocalypse doing stand-up comedy, I sit down and turn on the heater by the couch. I wonder if I am still tripping. She never leaves the television on, weird. I take off my coat and climb onto my bed. It is comfortable. The world spins and disappears.

&nb
sp; My hands are tiny and I am wearing the mittens I lost in the gully when I was in third grade. I look up and my sled is broken. There is a line of hedges and I am in the middle of a field. Some of my childhood friends are there and I don't know why.

  “What am I doing back at my elementary?” I asked.

  “What’s wrong?” The short one with the red toque askes.

  “Go tell teacher!” The fat one with the yellow scarf cried out.

  The tall one ran away, towards the school yard. The all stand above me and they talk about me as if I am not there. Strange. I can see them, but I cannot speak and I haven't seen these friends since fourth grade.

  I am in my childhood home. My mother stands in a doorway surrounded in light. I am floating inside a black abyss. I can feel my consciousness being stretched to fill the void but it cannot. I am nothingness compared to aleph. I am not. I am an illusion of consciousness. My sanity stretches to its breaking point- then snaps.

  I wake up in darkness. I smell garbage and can hear the grinding of machinery. I feel pain in my mouth and my forehead. I feel a slick plastic against my face. Consciousness fades.

  I forget about trying to get free. My greatest worry is helping a lion retrieve his crown from the mountain top. I hold onto his mane and he carries me up the mountain side. At the peak I climb the trunk ancient tree and take down the crown from the highest branch. I return to the lion and present the crown to him. Upon donning the crown the lion transforms into a giant crow wearing a porcelain mask.

  I sit in the back seat of the car. My friends are laughing. The rain patters down on the car as we speed up the hill. The night can't get any better. Drinking with friends in the coulees. We are packed together in the back seat like sardines. My friend is driving and her boyfriend beside her in the passenger seat. Perfect night. I laugh and take a drink- pass the bottle forward to the passenger seat.

  Darkness now. My face feels wet. Tears? Door ajar noise. Funny, my door was closed. People are swearing.

  I step out onto the old bridge in the forest. A great palisade of green evergreens surround us. Green lush rainforest and raindrops pattering a soft song around me- the ocean breeze is cool and crisp. The garden closest to heaven.

  “Be careful, those planks are rotten.” She said.

  “Mom, I have the reflexes of a cat.” I said.

  I continue forward. I feel one of the planks shudder, I shift my weight and step forward. Weightless now. Falling.

  I wake up on the floor. The chimes of Big Ben echo in the distance. I roll over onto the foam mattress and pull up my covers. I smell ozone, I left the window open again. I shiver, reach out, and turn on my heater. Life is a blurry mess of drugs and dreams. I go to the bathroom. I look at the pills the doctors want me to take. I get a drink of water and choke them down. I wonder what everyone else in the world does. Probably not prisoners of madness.

  “Talking to yourself is a good way to stay sane.” I laughed as I made the statement, realizing the irony of it.

  “Shut up it isn't funny.” I swear at myself.

  I walk to the liquor store in the rain and buy a bottle. The liquor store clerk is cute, I smile. It isn't returned. I hurry home in the rain. I like sweet wines. Especially in the summer. Reminds me of better times. Reminder of her leaving me. Pain. I get home. Hang up my soaking coat and I uncork the bottle of wine. I let it breathe. I don't know why, it didn't matter. I have a glass, then another, and another. I sit and stare at my phone that never rings.

  “Nobody wants to be around me anyways.” I said.

  I begin thinking as I am drinking.

  “It would be a mercy killing if I was gone.” I said.

  “I know how this works.” I replied.

  “Messy, sticky, end. Better off dead.” I said.

  “No cure. Nothing, lingering death.” I replied.

  “I would be forgiven, they would understand.” I said.

  “Socially dead outcast, the physical should follow.” I replied.

  “Things never get better anyways.” I said.

  “I will die eventually- so why wait.” I replied.

  I go to the bathroom and swallow the rest of my medications. I sit down and I finish my wine. I briefly thought of a movie I saw where the character started hallucinating rather than dying from doing this and I laughed a little. That would be one hell of a trip.

  I quickly scribbled a note on my desk, I end it with an “and.” “That will baffle the motherfuckers.” I said, smiling.

  I lay in bed, awaiting oblivion. I think of my friends who had suicided. I hated them all. I drifted away, I wasn’t there. By then my eyelids are getting heavy. Sailed past the buoys already. Death, might truthfully be damn pleasant, as Socrates pointed out.

  Finally, I think to myself. I can sleep. My phone rang.

  I grumbled. “Now?”

  I pick up. A friend was on the phone. “Hello?”

  “Hey, what are you doing?” She said.

  “I was going to bed early.” I lied.

  “But I'm already here? Surprise!” She laughed.

  “I am trying to die in peace.” I thought to myself.

  “Sure, come on in.” I said.

  I go to the door, which is far away. The combination of wine and drugs makes the room spin. My friend and her boyfriend are there, they could be the people in picture frames. Or in a magazine selling blenders. Or whatever shit normal people buy.

  “Are you alright” She asked, suspiciously.

  “I am feeling a bit under the weather, rainy out.” I lie.

  Her boyfriend is with her smiling quietly to himself.

  Far out, I can see time.

  “Pick out a movie. I know all the lines.” I smile falsely.

  They choose one and I turn it on. The temporal undertow is pulling my consciousness out of my body. I can't even remember which one it is, or if I have seen it before. They are talking and laughing. How long is this fucking movie, I was trying to kill myself and now I need to sit through this shit? I have fucking bad taste in film.

  “Well, this is how it ends I guess.” I think to myself. “Not even a good last movie.”

  “How awkward; that was a bad ending.” She said.

  “You asleep?” He asked.

  “Sorry, only tired.” I lied.

  “The characters were all assholes.” She said.

  I look up, the credit are rolling.

  “I didn’t like any of them, it was like they were intentionally written to have no redeeming qualities.” He said.

  “Just like real life.” I laughed sardonically, clutching my gut.

  “Tummy ache?” She said.

  “Yah, my stomach. Ate something bad.” I lied.

  “Got anything for the tummy?” She said, going into my bathroom.

  “Was there a place that I might have turned back?” I thought to myself. “Or am I past the point of no return?”

  “Can you stop saying tummy?” I said.

  “Does the word sounds too happy?” He said, mockingly.

  “H-how did you know…” I said.

  “Despite your weirdness, you are predictably grim.” He said.

  “Fuck you.” I thought to myself.

  She returns with some anti-nauseate, but, as she turns in the door, I feel a familiar rumbling. I grab the garbage can and vomit, I look down, there it all is.

  “I can’t even fucking kill myself properly.” I think to myself.

  “Gross!” He said. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine.” I lied.

  “You are turning gray. You okay?” She said, concerned.

  “Finally.” I thought to myself, she rubbed my back.

  Game over.

  “You need to be more careful, what were you doing!” He said.

  “Now what?” I said.

  “That was your last life. You will start all over again!” He said.

  “This game sucks.” I mashed the buttons angrily.

  “Want me to take over, it w
ill be faster.” He asked.

  “I need another turn.” I lied.

  “It will take too long, let me.” He said.

  “Fine.” I handed him the controller.

  I watch him play the game. He is much better than me. I used to know how to play, but not anymore. He can dodge the barrels, the fireballs, and club the rabbits. I sit and eat popcorn as he plays. He tries to teach me, but I'm bad. We worked in the mall together, he has a ridiculous goatee and spiked hair. He talks about some girl that likes him but he doesn't like her. I know the feeling. He gives a bevy of excuses of why he doesn't like her. Usually the more excuses someone has the more lies they are telling. He has great excuses why he can do better; though too vapid to list.

  “I don't judge.” I lied.

  “Thanks.” He said, smiling awkwardly.

  He reaches the top of the tower and the dragon retreats with the princess. He is loves the chase. If he ever reaches the princess; all he has known is to keep chasing her; thus, if the princess ever actually presented herself, he would find another and start again. We are back where I died. He hands me the controller.

  “You have to watch for patterns.” I try to climb the tower but get knocked over by a barrel. “Otherwise you never make it.”

  “Can we change games?” I ask as I hand him the controller.

  “Sure, you will still suck at this one though.” He said

  He hands the controller back after playing around with the game console for a minute.

  “What game is it this time?” I ask.

  “Focus on not losing your head this time.” He replied.

  I wander up the path toward a quiet village filled with fog, grinding noises of steel on concrete, a monster attacks with a giant sword. You are dead, the game announces. I go the menu and I move the cursor to change the difficulty to easy.