by Daniel S. Irwin
Lying in bed, sleeping on my belly, I awoke to ferocious, vicious growling directed toward the back of my head and thought, Gotta get off that bug juice the doc gave me for foot cramps... too many hallucinations... visual, and now audio. Without turning for a look, I laughed and drifted back off to slumber land. Eventually, my pal wandered into my small apartment, woke me up, and chewed my ass out for being so wasted the night before that I crashed on my bed leaving my door wide open. "Jesus, you better be more careful, man," he said. "Your manager's Rottweiler has been runnin' loose and chomped a big chunk outta some guy's leg down the hall." Now that's what we call a really vivid hallucination.
Daniel S. Irwin, author of The Red Man Feels No Pain, was abandoned by gypsies and raised in a capitalist commune.