The Ultimate Pranayama

Last night:

Sitting upright on my straight-back chair in the bedroom as usual. Dog is resting at my left on the near corner of the bed. I descend into salvia space and begin pranayama, basic breathing exercises. I close my eyes and relax into the feeling for a minute or so and then re-open them. I now see my reality around me breathing with me. As I exhale, the room around me bows outward with my breath, and flexes back inward with each inhalation. A very beautiful state to be in. Reminiscent of Neo in "The Matrix" at the moment where he achieved mastery of the Matrix and of Agent Smith. His inhalation, with the accompanying special effect of the world around him bowing inward, captures the sensation closely enough.

I continue with this, noticing how the furniture and other fixtures in the room actually shift sideways, either to the left or the right, as the room expands. I notice that this effect doesn't end at my skin, either. I am also expanding and contracting, more so than just my respiration would normally cause. Then I begin to perceive that the room around me, and my body, are one material, a flexible, semirigid almost gel-like pseudosubstance, which I interpreted as the substance of consciousness itself, how I perceive it, the texture that I assign it. The very texture of dreams. I can expand or contract any part of it at will, and lengthen or contract parts of this space, but I also realized that only I would be able to see this because I am only affecting the structure of the dream that is reality and not its contents. At least, only I *should be* able to see this. Thus a ruler on the floor might look longer or shorter to me, but it is still twelve inches long; it is the dream itself that I am seemingly affecting, the dream that is reality, thus any measurements of said space in said reality would not reflect my actions upon it, as such measurements can only be done within that very dream world that I am affecting the very basis of. My efforts would only be apparent from the "outside" of reality, in salvia space. Or so it would seem.

I also note to myself that this doesn't seem to bother the dog any. He's not asleep, but he's resting and looks back at me quizzically as I look toward him. Nothing unusual here, nor did I expect there to be.

As I go even deeper, eyes still open, small additional dose of salvia, I start to focus upon a point on the grille of the air filter in front of me off to my right. I start to see and feel the space torquing, twisting in a curve, eventually a semicircular twist, distorting the horizontal slats of the grille. Then it twists about in an almost violent manner, seeming to distort space itself, and several crack-like lines or perhaps edges of folds of some sort, appear in the air before me. One of them, seemingly a fold of spatial distortion, or more likely a fold *in the dream of space,* a fold in the dream which *is* space, approaches my faithful doggy friend to my left.

Now he bolts! And moreover, as it was happening, as that twist approached his side of me, I *knew* that he would bolt. He runs diagonally across the bed, over my wife's legs, and sits in the farthest corner away from me. Hardly typical behavior, but typical when daddy's on salvia apparently.

At this point I snap myself out of it on reflex and call out to my sleeping spouse, bless her heart, to tell her that *it* had happened yet again. This I do not for her benefit, but for mine. If I can tell her, I get to keep the memories. This works in two ways; she generally remembers the gist of what I told her, and when I can make the effort to tell her, I generally remember it myself as well. I've tried voice recorders; no way. Too distracting.

She wishes I didn't fuck with the dog's mind. He's emotionally delicate. I try to tell her that I don't do it on purpose.

As an aside, at one point when I was both perceiving reality as having an almost gel-like texture (but really almost nothing like a gel; words are insufficient to describe this,) and as I was also starting to play around with the space around me, and was almost lost in a swirl of complex imagery and perceptions, I had a piercing insight. Something about the "gel," about the texture of reality that I was perceiving. It was like I directly intuitively understood what it was, and thus what it implied reality was. I knew in that moment that I knew one of the deepest secrets of the universe. Then the fight began to keep that memory, but I was in too deep to dredge it back up with me. Salvia seems to allow you to get to very deep levels of reality where you learn incredible things, but getting back out with what you have learned is another thing entirely.