Solid Gold Mind Vibe Energy

7/5/2025 –

There is this guy who bought a place on Broadway on Capitol Hill and built a really cool gym there. This sequence opens introducing us to him and there’s this small square grid living magickal energy form that’s hovering right above his shoulders. He has a couple of friends there in the doorway as well and it’s a schtick that you’d think would get old but somehow doesn’t.

“He’s just a guy who built a gym. The gym isn’t a business or anything. He’s just a guy who built a gym.”

But of course it doesn’t take long for people to take note of the excellent gym he built, in such prime real estate too. They all want to use it and of course, what’s the point to a gym if you’re not going to use it. But again, he’s just a guy who built a gym. He needs to come up with a system and he ends up setting these $1.98 membership tickets on a clothesline system. None of that makes a lot of sense but when I look back in, the place has somehow gotten bigger.

There are these two big open doorways and he can’t fend everyone off.

“I’m just a guy who built a gym. This isn’t a business!”

He pleads with the gathering crowd.

“But aren’t you selling memberships right there? So, you’re a business then.”

The guy can’t argue with that and far more people roll in. When the floating viewpoint comes back in the place is now packed. Also, it does not look like a gym. In fact, I’m looking around trying to find anyone working out and I come up with nothing. It seems like a sci fi night club and there’s this quite particular multi-color high intensity pastel rainbow with sparkly pearl beads to reflect the colors style going on. A lot of people rocking this similar theme.

My perspective now flies into mind of the I’m-just-a guy-who-built-a-gym owner dude. He’s looking at the multiple big screens that are now flying above the patrons in the place that was supposed to be a gym. There’s copyrighted content he can’t legally use here. Same thing with the music. He needs to get that shit taken down stat.

He walks over to the tall, thin, tattoo covered woman running some of the lighting rigs.

“You’re going to need a bunch of this taken down.”

She tells me.

“You’d think the professional DJ I hired with over a decade’s worth of experience would have known this would be an issue.”

I retort, which she finds slightly funny.

Then then entire perspective cuts and it’s like the gym guy and his best friend are looking at reality on this blue magic hole in the wall of the building. You’re also reminded of the magic square thing when you were first introduced to the gym dude.

Of course, the patterns on the club goers clothes were so obviously inspired by the magick powers of the magick square. How could I have forgotten about the magick square? Maybe I didn’t. Was the memory of it being there when I first joined the plot implanted in my mind at the end? It’s hard to say but I get the impression that this is either the end of season 1 and there’s not going to be a season 2 for a while or that’s just the end of it in general. I’m low key bummed there’s no more, at least for the immediate future. Not the best thing in the universe but it was fun.

After getting up and getting back down, now I’m this all-white looking alien entity with a smooth white head, wearing a huge metal outfit with these gigantic metal gloves and boots. It’s like I’m made out of cement or some shit. We’re in the circular rocky center of a particular mountain and there’s a window covered tram to the top. As we’re preparing to take the tram skyward I’m now looking at myself in a cinematic way. I seem to be talking to at least 3 other people and I’m telling them how excited I am about helping them build and improve their communications technology.

Then we take the ride to the top and everything changes. We’re now at this tropical beach viewpoint in this hollowed out mountain. Just amazing.

Words can’t possibly do it justice, especially because it’s not just the absolutely bonkers beach out the side of a hollowed-out volcano scenery, it’s the vibes man. The vibes. The metaphor is once again the show The Real World but if everyone liked each other instead of constant bickering. Diverse minds tethered together in this lightly pulsating egg of cosmic energy.

My mind seems to be connected to everything. Everything is gorgeous and everyone loves each other here. Just constant waves of solid gold mind vibe energy. At one point, the blue housing development on the adjacent hills seems to be telling me something to the effect of:

“See, he really needed a vacation.”

I did need to get away in this fashion but I think part of the problem with me getting this far out is that I don’t remember it much. Moreover, I get the impression I’m not supposed to. I was also absolutely lucid for a part of this too and it’s a strange kind of lucidity as there was no desire to do anything other than enjoy the surreal environment I was enmeshed in. One thing I do recall though is standing above the elegant beaches below the volcano viewpoint by myself and thinking:

“Jesus. Remember before I came up here. I thought I wanted to make communications technology. My god, I have changed soooo much.”

It seems so small now. I was a totally different person. I also don’t know if that memory actually happened before the flashback or if it was implanted there while I was remembering it.  

I get one more scenario on this night but my recall is even worse. Here I’m like behind the scene’s creating the hollowed-out volcano viewpoint reality. I am in the space between space. I remember invisible hands molding this rose like fountain like they are molding clay or weaving a basket. In fact, I think the otherworldly nature of the work being taken on here is mostly impossible to recollect. I do know we were making the higher vacation reality I’d just hung out in though. God. That vacation experience. I woke up with the exact mild depression one gets on the first day back to work.

7/6/2025 –

I’m working at a 7-11 and there’s another dude training me. It’s super odd because we’re in this partially glass encased room separate from all the customers but it’s doesn’t seem to be for security reasons as far as I can tell. We’re just helping customers in our own window encased space. Anyway, the guy’s showing me how things work and also telling me that most of his employees fuck it up constantly. I’m inserting what seems like a metallic pop tart into this mechanical slot in the side of the counter, then removing it strategically.

It doesn’t seem that complicated to me. As he’s telling me this I’m confused as to how most of his employees don’t get it or moreover, which 7-11 would make processes so complicated most people couldn’t grasp them? I think this is a commentary on how tech separates us from one another and overcomplicates simple things. Could be wrong.

Then in the next situation I’m in my mom’s upstairs room reading a Seattle alt weekly. I’d say like a quarter of the paper involves crime and what politicians are going to do about it. Then I grab a slightly larger alt weekly type paper from San Francisco. There’s an election going on and the entire issue is dedicated to what each candidate’s view on various high-profile crimes is. Also, none of this is written in words but rather energy vibe cartoons. I see the cartoons and I know not only what the story is about but I get the vibes, and the vibes are bad. In fact, this is what I’m told quite specifically although in less direct verbiage: when even your hip supposed lefty coverage gets pulled into the sky-high crime narrative, you’re toast. This is how they control people. Riiiiight.

In the last situation, I’m in class at some school. I go to work on a large wooden table and I’m working on this project where I take these arty almost blueprint looking posters out of my bag, then cover them with slightly transparent neon pink marker ink. As I’m doing this, a mid-40s long dark curly haired woman teacher sits down and suddenly wants to do our regular one-on-one thing. I’m mildly annoyed by this but whatever. Now’s as good a time as any I guess.

She presses me for new art, and I’m like:

“Shit. I didn’t make any new art.”

Then I realized I’ve made a ton of art she’s never seen and I do successfully pass it off to her as new. She’s satisfied. She wants me to go somewhere but I really want to finish my bright neon pink marker project. She’s kind of surprised that this is what I’d want to do. Maybe even a little concerned. She presses and I can tell it’s not a worthwhile fight. Ok then, I’ll go on your little trip.

Which I do, and the first thing that happens is that while leaving our first destination (which I don’t even remember), we have this good-looking blonde bus driver with a well kempt short brown beard. Very handsome chap. Buuut, while backing out of wherever we were, he hits a couple things with the top of the bus. I, uhhh. Shouldn’t we be stopping?

And it’s the same thing at the next stop. Guy pulls out in the bus and obviously clips a couple things. Nothing serious but we just drive on, much to my astonishment. I seem to be the only one noticing the minor carnage.

But we do go to a third location. This time I see the blonde bus driver bro talking to his friends on the phone. It’s such a cool job and his peeps who got him into psychedelics are the ones who got him the gig. He’s saying this as we’re pulling out and I’m thinking to myself.

“A school bus driver. I would think that dude could do better than a school bus driver but whatever.”

Not longer after I think this, he then fucks a bunch of shit up with the bus. Way more than last time. Can’t be ignored.

We were at a restaurant/coffee shop and now we’re sitting in the place waiting for the bus sitch to be sorted out. The whole time I’m trying to explain that this is the 3^rd time he’s fucked something up, which he doesn’t seem to be happy about. Nobody’s listening anyway and I’m not going to press it.

Then I realize that I’m with 4 or 5 people from class and it’s all related to my old writing at Disinfo. One of them is making these paintings of jazz musicians and instruments. Very dark and dreary but also a compelling project that he’s completely immersed in.

After sitting back and talking to another one of them for a bit there’s a thick wave of nostalgia. Heavy. This class is ending soon and this particular configuration of peeps might never hang like this again. I’m glad I came like the teacher wanted as I’m watching the sun cascade through the shop’s window, drenched in delicious emotion. It only took an incompetent bus driving psychedelic pretty boy to make this happen.

7/7/2025 –

I’m in Whitley Streiber’s back yard ritual space and it’s like he’s either gone out of town or passed away or something. I seem to live next door to him in this scenario or am staying next door or whatever. What is this space? You stand in the middle of these two markings on the ground in his back yard. What are the markings? Seems like dirt piles, possibly with plants growing on them. Are they graves? Possibly. I get the point though, which is that you stand between the piles, then you hold your hands out to try and draw power from them and it seems like you’re supposed to do this at night, which I’m doing. At one point I think to myself:

“Holy shit, maybe I can summon aliens.”

I don’t get to determine whether or not this is possible though.

In the next situation, I’m leaving our old basement apartment with my wife. When we’re halfway up the street she notices that I forgot my bag. Oh yeah, shit. We’re not that far away so I go back to grab it as she walks away. Then as I’m coming back everything gets wonky. Wait a minute. This isn’t even the same street. There are all these new construction monstrosities and as I walk up between a few of them, this awesome 80’s song starts playing. It’s almost too good to be true and I want to be able to remember it to tell my wife but I also somehow know I’m not going to be able to remember it, which turns out to be true.

Instead I find myself in some sort of shopping complex. I wander around for a while before I realize that I’m dreaming. When I do, I take to the sky and the shopping complex now seems like an airport. As I soar through the air I’m singing yet another 80’s song, which may or may not be a real song. I swear that it is but upon waking up, I can’t remember it. Unfortunately, the flight is very brief and my lucidity fades pretty quickly. What was that goddamn song though? No idea.

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