You are lying on a bench, trying to keep hold of your senses. You came to Mexico City
to work on your thesis about Yaqui Indian sorcery, where a student arranged for you to
meet a local man who was supposed to be very knowledgeable on the subject. The old
man met you at a bus stop and offered you a lemon drop, now you feel as if you’ve
been drugged. The man is standing above you now, chanting gibberish and staring
deeply into your eyes.
"I know what you're up to, don't try to pull any of that mind expanding Castaneda stuff on me
with your hypnotism and drugged candy!" You exclaim, gasping for breath.
"Life is like a journey to Ixtlan, you never know what's going to happen next." He replies calmly.
"Hey buddy, who you jivin' with that cosmic debris? Your Forrest Gump philosophy won't
work on me, and I've never even been to Iceland, although I did consider going there once
when I was younger.... I used to have a crush on Bjork..."
The old man continues to stare at you fixedly, and you feel as if you are falling backwards,
spinning into a long tunnel (like they used to have on that old "Time Tunnel" show on TV when
you were a kid, only not as cheesy.)
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