My Death

When using Delta 8, I almost always (and perhaps always) feel the presence of someone else in the room with me. Sometimes I think it's my younger son. Sometimes I think it's one of my cats. Sometimes I have no idea who it is, it just feels like SOMEone is there. 

I asked the lady at 502 Hemp if she had a take on that, figuring she'd had her fair share of trips without leaving the farm. (See "The Wildwood Weed.") She immediately lit up (no pun untended) and told me she thought it was a spiritual thing, and suggested that I try to talk to it next time it happened.

So I did. But nothing talked back, and after a few tries I gave up and reckoned that it was just one of those Stoned Paranoia things.

The I read this in Carlos Castaneda's third book, Journey to Ixtlan: 

And I immediately felt a jolt and a slow roll of fear when I realized that I had a very distinct memory of sitting in my chair last night and thinking that one of my cats had just sat down on my left. (Both cats were in the basement for the night.)

I tried to remember other times I'd been D8-ed and had the feeling of a presence in the room with me. Thankfully, I could remember one time when I was sitting on the sofa and I had a very clear memory of thinking that someone was on my right. 

It was at least enough for me to think that maybe death wasn't constantly on my ass.

But next time I D8, I'm going to be ready for a conversation with my death...if s/he's willing to chat.

Wish me luck, I'm going to need it, chile.