as the sun filters through the trees & I whip past them, eyes closed but still seeing; flashing kaleidoscope fractals, alternating milliseconds of red & yellow & blacks & white. swirling oval ripples; am I looking up at or down upon the surface? checkerboards & squiggling bubble worms. between the seizure warnings & REM flickers, there is this unblinking eye, staring me down. my dad thinks I'm a seer. I see this cemetery, a church to the left. rolling fields of blueberries redwhiteblacknyellow a white cross, an arrow on the eastern arm. I stare down at my feet in the water. so I'm above the surface then - wait, those aren't my feet; they're much too slender. a close up: the southern corner of the cemetery. I have never been here before. a giant, passionate waterfall healthy forest surrounding it. My dad thinks I've dropped acid. a close up: the church. I have never been here before. how am I seeing this? swirls. ripples. checker boards. puzzle pieces. blueberry hills. trees trees trees churches cemeteries & those long slender white feet.

where the hell am I?