100
I wander lost through the desert storm at night, enshrouded in oceanic currents of sand. Nowhere to go, everywhere to be, I move in voiceless intuition.
Upon the horizon, a glimmering candle flickering in the wind. As I move closer, I recognize iT to be a small tent, so peculiarly erect here, far beyond nowhere. I see iT casting golden rays from lights encircled by lazer engraved wood, deep mahagony, spinning, casting shapes in shadows unto the sand like a mythology unfolding.
The red canvas fabric is painted in black lettering of unknown origin. Some hieroglyphic cross between sanskrit, Japanese lettering, and the currents of the wind iTself. I open the tarp door and walk inside.
To my surprise, the room is immensely larger than iT'd appeared upon the outside. A great gathering of beings upon the floor, encircling miniature tables for tea as a band plays music from all around the world and then some. The beings are a strange concoction, plucked from all the stories of the Collective musings. From Pooh Bear to the Grim Reaper, to giant aqualian octopi, to Freemen Savages from the Planet Dune. According to no laws of physical reality should all of these creatures be able to inhabit the same place in such small a space, but here we are, joyfully amusing the music and of course, the Tea;)
I sit down for a cup from the Mad Hatter next to Terence Mckenna doodaling Dali as he smokes a juniper leaf from the Eastern Himalayas. We chat with lads of the Syrian revolution as the Zulus breathe flying sparrows into the air, from their hands of sand, and the birds dance to the melodies of Hendrix making love to our nature. David Choe socks himself in the nose to dye the canvas red, while a frog fish and lion turtle fuck ratchedly in the sailor's lookout, where center column is center stage, casting the sweet airy spray of orgasmic nectar into our tea.
A marvelous gathering indeed, all walkers of the land. Those who've set upon the journey to explore the uncharted territory in psyche. An air of comraderie in celebration of this enchanting oasis in the unmappable terrain of the ocean. As we share tales of the wandering, I slowly begin to realize, though nobody is leaving, beings are becoming more few. The space iTself was slowly, unnoticeably coming to shrink, until all who remained at the table were me and the Hatter and He were me, and only there were a cup of tea.