Raveolution

Reflections on Oz, Aliens, and Zombies

The following morning, the morning I had to go back to work, was tough.  Not so much because I couldn't get up, but because I didn't want to.  When my alarm went off that morning, it seemed so much louder than normal.  Bright, screeching, echoey, frightening almost.  I popped up, eyes still closed, and dangled my feet over the side of the bed, initially breathing in excitement for being alive, only to realize a split second later it was Monday.

I was not waking up to a new rave day and to meet my new friends.  Excitement transformed into a wave of anxiety.

All motivation drained out of my being and I felt a shortness of breath.

I slouched on an exhale with exhaustion and dread, groggy.  Nearly stumbling, I plodded into the bathroom to brush my teeth.  My zombie stare incinerated in a spark of awareness.  I froze all motion.  My toothbrush dangled from my frothy mouth as I leaned toward the mirror and used both hands to examine my face.  I had pink, heart-shaped party glasses on.  I remembered seeing them atop my bed stand.  I must have grabbed them instinctively and put them on after I smacked the alarm off.  Who is this girl?

I took them off and looked down to spit into the sink of my old life.

My mirrored closets faced each other, producing an infinity effect as I dressed, triggering deep introspection.  In front of these mirrors, I slipped on my slacks, buttoned up my silk poplin shirt, and pulled on my business jacket, a continuation of my normal morning pre-work routine, :although with mindful, less mechanical speed, and an unusual, almost viscous curiosity.  What is wrong with me?  

I peered into my own eyes to the depths of infinity, asking my reflection.  Why am I ruminating rebellion and feeling lethargic?  felt a desperate desire for my reflection to come to life and tell me.  She never did.  Not in that moment, anyway.  Leaving the house, I found by my front door a burned CD scribbled in permanent ink pen, Raver J's Ultra Marty Mix.  I smiled.  He could have left a USB drive.  Regardless, I grabbed the musical gift so I could listen to it in the car.  Fortunately, or unfortunately, my car lease had not expired.  This model still had a CD player.  The silver lining of Raver J's Ultra Marty mix winked at me as it moved in a sun ray coming in from my front doorway window.  I held it in my hand as I rummaged through my purse looking for the car remote to start the seat heater and the news before I got into my well-earned purring sports car.

As is customary for responsible members of democracy society, I listened to DYSTRAXION, Democracity's news and entertainment channel, every morning on my commute.  Not more than a quarter of the way to work, I inevitably hit some traffic.

With the news spouting what seemed to be untenable negativity (I don't have to listen to this), I decided to slip into the CD dock the mix Marty had given me.

Rapid, pounding beats ensued and instinctively, I hit the button to initiate the convertible top to withdraw.  Certain parts of the CD mix gave me chills, making wispy blonde arm hair erect, electrified, and bringing back vivid sensations and recollections such as the light show.

Gloved finger lights had trailed for me, creating shapes and patterns that I had never seen, dancing for me as I would think the chaos of the cosmos could.  I could feel my pupils expand, then the eyelids fluttered and my eyes started to roll to the back of my head.  The music itself seemed to act like rolling balls inside of a massage chair, working through my body, my neck, my heart, my back, my legs.  I kept fighting the urge to close my eyes and surrender myself completely both to the music and to the gentle river of subtle psychedelic memories moving through my mind.  The body warming, a moisture growing, my eyes unable to fight, they closed.  

My peaking arousal was interrupted abruptly by an electrical flickering of the stereo equipment and the long honk of the car behind me.  The forceful gust of a gasp popped my eyes open.  My fingers at first had separated, bursting open as if they wanted to shoot stars out of their tips.  But that freeze frame of shock instinctively returned to emotion as I gripped the wheel hard and slammed on the brakes.  Adrenaline surged through my quickened heart refocusing to find I had five car lengths of space in front of me.  That was intense!  

I turned the music off, turned the fan on full blast, and slapped my face lightly on both sides so that I could return to my normal senses.  With the convertible top in procession above me, I resumed the drive in a startled yet more alert state of mind.

Once I turned the block I wondered, how am I going to get through the day?  Flushed from the arousing recall of the rave,  felt offbeat of corporate culture as I pulled into the parking garage of the Koch Enterprises building.  Physically, I did not feel bad, but emotionally, I felt estranged, as if I were among aliens.  Prior to the rave, work routine dictated a standard no eye contact plan, which included ignoring the initial Koch Enterprises guards, any plebeian employees zipping through the parking structure on motorized wheels for feet, as well as all subsequent level guards as I ascended the heights of parking for elite staff.  Although I normally acknowledge people in the lobby or elevator with a simple, "hi", I knew my change in behavior would go unnoticed, as most everyone has near full attention on their phone screen until the moment they sit at their desk and have to look at their work computer.  Today, I wanted to (and so I did!) smile at everyone.  But get this, I had this tug on my heart that I also wanted to - (gasp) -hug them!  Hug the aliens!  Would this mood shift would be a permanent alteration?