I am cramping as I write this, having chomped down all meds this morning plus ...2 aleve, a codeine and a clonopin. No cognac though it is dangerous close beckoning at such range. I've managed to recollect part of a highly visionary dream.

I have been to the Temple on the bottom of the Ocean where the soul transforms incarnations,

to get there you must go to the foot of a bridge at least 300 years old. Great abandoned docks these are, some without benefit of the bridge being actually still standing. You are waiting for a ferry. Not any ferry of course but a mad timbertangled towered yacht, spiralling dangerously sternward and aft with a great nest of wooden bulky clattering structures. A winding tower of teak stairs jewelled with Spanish moss, musty like a woody swamp draws the eye around the great towering cone and up.This is the front of the boat which teeters on waves, calling you: aboard.  The ferry, heavily arboured with cypress and mangrove trees seems to dip fearlessly low in the water, skimming  like a slow floating island.

In the center of the boat is a wooden Coney Island not seen since before the great fire, dazzling in mystical light. A Wonder Wheel creeks about affording riders great views of miles in every direction. The Thunderbolt souped up into three insane loops, looks death defying even in this magic realm where death is only the entry fee.

Ironically a hotdog/funnelcake/cotton candy kiosk sits at the crossroads of the amusment junket , but no one seems sickened by it nor because of it.

The windingup building has several rooms stacked like the tiers of a wedding cake, the rooms are therefore smaller and smaller by degrees as one ascends. But winding up is where, how the fun begins.

The first level is a dance floor, alcohol is available though not oppresively in evidence. Most people are dancing and the music changes constantly, in flux with the coasts.

The second is a tea, coffee and bar lounge. Great discussions and crossword games are being fulfilled here.

Above this, a room for getting high

and above this, a room only vaguely comfortable for 4 people max and a lovely view. Albeit 3 windows not easy to see out of. Wretchedly kept and reeking of pot; no more then 3 people ever venture in at once. Yet 6 have been known to try. However in this room the teak stairs continue upwards into a decreasing crawlspace that becomes a ridiculous quest for all those who dare the scramble. At the top: a small door that once you pop through, affords the highest sight in all the seas.

You see the sea as a soaring seabird.

It is frightening at night and miraculous all times. Particularly as dusk falls or dawn brights.

But that is only the vehicle. Next is a journey of oceans, rivers, channels and seas.

--starfucker