Mushroom Shamaness

About a fortnight ago, emerging from a deeply restive sleep, the kind that arrests me so tightly that I can not dream at all, I had very visceral awakening visions, still half in dream state and on the cliffs of normal consciousness. Like peering over the edge of my own mind, where self magic is in it’s most potent forms. I was crouched before a shapely woman, all in perfect proportions, her skin was bare, glowing with a kind of phosphorescence the type rare fungi give off, ethereal it was. I crouched there before her as she was prostrate in a supine posture, leaning back in tall dark grasses, enveloped in shadows, only flesh and flora could I see, with the glint of something in the tall grasses. She was leaning back, her legs open, though concealed by the plants, gracefully and eloquently picking shining red mushrooms from the ground by their stems and eating them whole. This seemed to give her the glowing effect of her aura. I recognized them as the psychedelic Fly Agaric. I may have touched her feet in an attempt to see if she was real or in an act of reverence. I was also without clothe. After consuming copious amounts of the mushroom, she lay back seemingly against nothing but not straining a muscle, her supple flesh and orchid now revealed in a sign of invitation. She was a Shaman, and had perhaps summoned me here, or blinded me and took me here for an initiation ritual. :Feast on the bitter liquids, flowing from the womb: These words repeated like a mantra, as I recalled them from another dreamlike vision with an actual woman in a past Nornic ritual. She threw back her head, and I began to lap up the juices from her flower, no idea what color it was, but translucent with a sweet nectary taste befits for the Gods. Not being fully in dream, I also remembered the Ugric shamans who ate of thee mushroom, or drank the reindeer urine, then would have his urine consumed as well by the participants of the ritual, as the mescaline of the fungus became more potent as it passed through body. This is exactly what I did, as the woman lay back in aromatic grasses, essentially sucking it out of her, until I too became intoxicated, all confusion of the set and setting became clear, and I seemed to be sharing one mind with this mysterious lady…

the waking vision culminated here, and I lay thinking and trying to find the space again, but failed for I recognized my will trying to impose. I was only aroused from this euphoria contemplating the hidden meaning of this, and perhaps thanking my mind for creating such bizarre scenery, as may make Terrence McKenna proud.