My brain abruptly stopping and then hopping into a gyroscope rotating at full speed is the most accurate description I can think of to explain how it felt when the brownies kicked in, two hours and a half after eating my last slice of I don't know how fucking many.

We were sharing the dessert with some of the guests when it happened, while we were agreeing with a guy about how Syd Barrett's era of Pink Floyd was better than the David Gilmour one. One moment I was nodding—feeling glad someone else was ranting out loud about something I was passionate about—and the next one I was jumping out of my seat as if I were Peter Parker reacting to his spider-sense.

They wanted to ask what was going on, but they were either drunk or stoned (or both) so they just stared. I was like a sentry scanning the room, wide-eyed and hunchbacked. Something clicked. Then I just stood straight and sat down again.

They were staring at me, completely silent.

"What?" I asked and started to laugh uncontrollably; eyes totally wet. I stopped when my brother asked if everything was fine, frowning.

"Of course," I said while they kept staring, and I started to feel my limbs go numb. "FUCK! Oh, oh, oh fuck!” I sort of chanted while performing small hops around my seat and waving my hands up and down. It might have looked like a shaman dance for summoning rain. Two laps around it then sat back.

"What?" I asked again while they kept fucking staring but now with a smirk. "Did I... just... hop around the living room?"

Now they were laughing.

"I need to get the fuck out of here. I don't know what the fuck is happening, and I'm so thirsty," I mumbled while I was putting my cotton slippers on, then I poured myself one litre of orange juice in a reusable plastic cup. I walked in front of everyone, opened the front door and disappeared into the night.

"Is everything fine?" I heard my brother and my friend Barnes behind me.

"I don't know where I am right now, I think I got lost."

"… Your house is right behind us."

"I need to get the fuck out of here, Idonotknowwhatthefuckishappening..."

"Hey everyone we're going for a walk!" they yelled to the ongoing party.

"What the hell is going on? Why am I seeing these flashes of people, buildings, colours? They make my body twitch and my eyes to blink unevenly. Everything is constantly changing around us, and then these arseholes aren't even saying anything. Am I completely crazy now? Fuck, right now I’m that guy parents point out to their children to scare them about the usage of drugs. Where are we? Are we still near the house? This fucking street—so tilted. It's like descending to hell. Shit, don't freak out, you're not dead. But who the fuck builds houses in places like these? It’s a fucking hill! No, but the houses are fine—beautiful pieces of art. But everything keeps changing. Please, stop! Why can't I stop overthinking? How long have I been drinking juice? Am I breathing? The way back is going to be so fucking tiring if we keep going down. But there's a convenience store down there, and I think I'm hungry. Fuck, I'd have to ask Barnes for money. Shit, I haven't said anything all this time, maybe they'll worry if I stay silent. Quick, say something. Be smooth."

"Ah!"

They interrupted their conversation and stared at me.

Fuck, just say something.

"Ah... I haven't seen The Green Hornet."

Yeah. Nice, idiot.

"Oh! Yes... uh, they say it’s not that good. We were talking about that," said Barnes, his eyes all red behind those thick nerdy glasses.

"Oh... like... right now? You were talking about that right now?"

"Uh... no... back at the party, when you helped Owen with the oven and we were in the backyard. People say it’s not that good."

"Is that a coincidence? Fuck I feel worse now. Please just stop, I don't want to stay like this forever. I'd be like one of those homeless guys who keep freaking people out on the streets just by the way they stare at everyone. What are these shapes? I can see people walking, talking. There are shadows everywhere. Shut up! There's a lot of noise. The buildings keep changing. There are snowflakes in the air, glowing. Stop. I feel cold. Kill me. There's a melody in... everywhere."

I halfly woke up in my bedroom with Scarface on the TV and mattresses on the floor. my brother was eating a large bowl of cereal, and when he saw me, he explained how we walked to the convenience store, bought a bunch of snacks and microwavable food I ignored by the time we walked all the way back home and then I said I wanted to lay down and watch Scarface.

"You've been quoting the whole goddamned movie in your sleep," he said while staring at the screen.

"The eyes, chico. They never lie," I replied, flawlessly in sync with the dialogue coming out from the TV, with my eyes barely opened.

"... Yes, like that. Bro, the party is almost over, so let me go help them clean and we'll sleep here. Two seconds, yeah? Please don't freak out."

"There was a melody..."

He got out of the room, and I shivered as soon as he closed the door because the melody filled my head again but with more static than perceivable sounds. People started to come in and out at full speed, changing the colour of the walls, the furniture, the floor and everything else. So many of them, talking all at the same time. Blurred. So many changes, so fast. And the song—like an old radio at the back of my head trying to tune a station.

I was so overwhelmed, absolutely scared. Shaking, gasping and covering my face with my blanket. Snowflakes were glowing everywhere.

I died of fear; eyes wide open. It was a cardiac arrest. I felt all that darkness and so on while I was still able to keep looking at the room rapidly changing—blurred shadows still there, moving all around while I was dead.

I was floating through the glowing snowflakes all across the room at some point. I saw my body in different positions and with different facial expressions laying on my bed, all of those versions at the same time, overlapped. I felt how it was to die of fear for each one of them, with one of them even dying from choking on my own vomit, and my throat and the inside of my ghostly nostrils felt like burning in acid when I saw that.

The snowflakes in the air spread outside the room, outside the house. I kept floating and followed that tune in the air. I left my body behind—my whole life. One of the snowflakes started to sparkle in so many colours, and then the ones surrounding it behave the same. I was once again being blinded by that light, and I knew what was coming. The song started to fade out.

"He's been asleep for eleven hours."

"Do you think he's in a coma?"

"No, I saw him getting out of bed, sleepwalking to... Wait! He's opening his eyes."

I woke up growling, craving for air and causing my throat to bleed by trying to breathe.

My friends were freaking out.