CULTS

I think that if only I had more charisma, I would easily put all my energy into forming a “cult.” The elephant in the room here is that I have a mood disorder so there’s no way I could be consistent in leading such a group. It does sound fun though, doesn’t it? I have so many versions of beliefs and belief systems (this is where my mind goes when I’m hypomanic or straight up manic), but I’ve yet to figure out what the purpose of this activity would be; most cults focus around finances, but I’m not like that. I’m more of an anti-finance guy; sure I live on it out of need, but I’d rather have a free society/counter-culture space.

A friend recently told me of a “nightmare” that she had the night before. Here’s the txt’s, in full and uncensored:

You came out for a visit and got with some group of overly friendly cult-like folks. You were all manic and stuff.

It was BAD

All these people lived together in a big, dirty house. I think it was Halloween. For some reason we were at my old school - SF State - and that's where you met them. I think some of them were students. Their house was by the school and they invited us over for a Halloween party.

Most were related to one another (siblings, cousins) but no one was sure who was related to whom. They all slept together, though - gay, straight, didn't matter. They were all fucking.

Somehow they lured you in with their overt friendliness. I was hesitant, and you told them I liked Anthropologie, so they were like "here, try these anthro dresses on!" I still didn't wanna go, but you were already hooked in so I was like shit, I guess I gotta keep an eye on Ian.

When I got to their place, you were already there and dressed like...a hippie going to a 1970's disco party. They were all dressed like that. When I walked in they immediately threw all kinds of anthro clothes on me and it was super overwhelming. Oddly, they did have fitting rooms like Anthro's. Anyway, when I came out, you and a bunch of others were on a couch and you were all cuddling and getting high together. I was especially worried bc the gayest, sluttiest guy in the house was all up in your business and you seemed fine with it, and I know you're not gay. I kept throwing you looks like "dude, are you ok with this?" but you were way into the drugs. I excused myself to the bathroom (didn't need to go; I just wanted a minute to gather my thoughts) and when I came back out, you all had left. I started to panic. I asked whoever was remaining where you all went, and they were like "oh, ian and (bunch of names) went out to grab a cab" and I was like "but where are they going?" and the answer was unclear, so I started to get upset. I called your phone and some woman answered. I asked where you were and she said "he's ok, he's with us!" I said yeah, but it's not that safe for him to be out like that (meaning, unaware) because he has bipolar, and he's not himself right now!" She then told me "well, we're still waiting for a cab if you wanna come outside" so I ran out there and my dream ended.

Leaving aside my friend’s ability to dream, some part of this could easily be true, or maybe even partially what I want (really just living off the land—the rest, the drugs, the sex is NOT me). Reminds me of all the dirty, dusty “structures” that were falling apart, back when I went to so many shows (of the music kind) in Williamsburg, Brooklyn; very unsafe areas too.

I moved across the country and the friends that I left behind still care it seems: “take care of Ian.” That, and they knew my attitude towards capitalism. Solid.