'Our psyche is part of nature and it's enigma is as limitless' – Carl Jung
I was at a High school house party, standing in someone’s yard at night in the Adelaide hills with my back against a red brick wall. The house was surrounded by a dying lawn and thick forest, with only a crooked wire fence in between. Music was playing loud, drunk teenagers were everywhere dancing, yelling, kissing, vomiting and crying. I was standing alone, out of it, swaying from the bourbon I'd smuggled from home. It was at this moment as I was so desperately trying to blend into the outdoor furniture that I was spotted by a local tough kid. The quintessential unwanted visitor. He was a year older, repeating a grade and known for picking fights for no reason. He made a beeline for me, yelled 'Hey shithead!' and pushed me hard in the chest, knocking me back into the bricks. Spitting words in my face 'What the fuck are you looking at?'. He smelt like BO, cigarettes and fruity lexia. His eyes were bloodshot, glazed over with a mix of confusion and adolescent rage. I was in shock. Mind racing. Holding his arms and hoping desperately for some kind of intervention. I took a breath. Then something changed, my perspective shifted and my mind zoomed up and outside of the situation.
'Am I dreaming?'
Time froze and logic slowly started to seep into the back of my mind. What is happening? It made zero sense that I would be at this party. I looked in my reflection and I saw my 16 year old self with hair down to my shoulders, baggy pants and an ill fitting jacket. I looked at my attacker, suddenly silent and withdrawn but with an unmistakable mischief in his eyes. With excitement I whispered 'I think I'm dreaming right now, this is nuts'. He nodded cautiously. 'None of this is real. You're not real'. I pressed him for conversation but he was unwilling or perhaps incapable of answering my questions. 'You're a dream figure, that must be so weird for you!' I walked over to the edge of the path and ran my fingers through the cold grass. I could feel the moisture. The level of detail was indistinguishable from reality. Standing under a clear night sky dotted with brilliant white stars and a super moon, I stared off into the distance towards the pines. Everything was tinted blue.
As I looked at the crowd I began to question how any of this was possible? I couldn't consciously recall this level of detail if you put a knife to my throat, yet there I was in a re-creation so vivid it felt like real life time travel. If my unconscious mind was able to record a moment from years ago with this much clarity, why can't I remember where I left my keys ten minutes ago? What's the purpose of having such a powerful on-board computer if it freezes up whenever I need it the most?
It was as if I'd fallen into an alternate reality every bit as real as our own. I was lucid, but more than that, mindful. Desperate to explore the possibilities of this inner dimension I'd stumbled into via some hidden mental door. Unfortunately this line of inquiry couldn't last. The state I found myself in was a fragile bubble that threatened to pop at the slightest sign of turbulence. I tried to hold on but my willingness to stay could not alone sustain such an intricate structure, at least not yet. The line between lucidity and waking up is a narrow one to walk. So as quickly as I'd gotten my bearings, it all started to slip away. The vibrant colours turned to sepia, the pixels broke apart, everything faded to black and I woke up in my bed.