Merging of Consciousness

John’s stories are very interesting, but also intriguing, to have several full episodes, within a moment in time, to be submerge into someone else life.

The stripper

The first was a young white man. I my consciousness tuned into his at a moment when he was riding a bicycle. My confusion, at that moment became his, and he (we?) couldn’t remember, exactly, where we were going, and why. Riding back and forth, up and down this street and others, we couldn’t recall our destination. In frustration, this man suddenly got off the bike, threw it into a vacant lot and started walking instead. Soon, he began to recall where he had been heading before, and in a short while, we arrived at his original, intended destination.

Walking up to the place we encountered outside it, a pickup truck with several young people sitting in back of it, drinking beer and talking loudly. They wanted me (him) to join their ‘party’, but the young man whose consciousness I was sharing declined and entered the building.

Inside we met two young women who were dressed in skimpy attire. This place felt, to me, to be a strip club (although I’ve honestly never been inside one in this life), only… when I was immediately directed to a side room by one of the two women, it became apparent to me who, exactly, who was soon to be performing the next stage act (as a stripper). Inside that room there was a large assortment of revealing clothing FOR MEN! This startled me, because it was totally unexpected (to me), but for this man it was, apparently, his occupation! This guy immediately began to disrobe in order to get into his ‘work cloths’. At this moment, I felt like I should not be there… He happened to turn his head toward a full-length mirror nearby, and this allowed me a glance of his appearance right before I popped back into my own body again. He seemed to be in his mid to late twenties, rather tall and athletic, and built in… shall we say… other areas, much more generously that myself. I felt one last thought from the man: He was not happy to be having to do this for a living.

The junkie

2. The second, seemingly random character whose mind and body I temporarily shared for a brief moment was a Hispanic male, age 35-45. I know this because I made the connection with him just as he was sitting in the bedroom at an old wooden, mirrored vanity and getting ready to inject what I can only assume was a dose of heroin into his arm which he had already prepped for by rolling up his shirtsleeve, wrapping tightly above the elbow with an elastic band.

He paused for a few seconds and stared into the mirror. I felt nothing but despair and hopelessness from him. As he suddenly gazed up at his own reflection I felt uneasy, as though he could somehow see me, or sense my presence. This was probably my imagination, because he then turned his attention back to the task-at-hand – or rather ‘arm’, in this case. At this moment, because I probably didn’t wish to be involved in this, or even witness it, I bounced back into my own head again with a sigh of relief.