Gavin Jefferson: Travelling without moving

I live for stories, whether in the form of a song, a movie or a book I thrive to be entertained.

I rarely dream, but the times in which the world within my mind blesses me with a story; it has a profound effect on my psychology. I put stock into the messages and events that happen within my dreams, I cannot explain why; I haven’t quite figured that out yet, but if I’m able to recount the events within the dream I will regularly sit for hours trying to figure out what it all meant. Sometimes it is easy; sometimes it isn’t. I enjoy dreams, because I know that I’m going to wake up, so; as far as I’m concerned; the weirder the dream the better I find enjoyment in it.

I’m terrified of mind altering drugs and there is a long list of subjects I researched before stumbling onto the concept of sensory deprivation. I could go through them but to save you from getting bored; I won’t. The simple fact of the matter is that I booked a float because I had heard that you could induce a psychedelic experience naturally.

Here’s what happened during my first float:

After getting into the tank; an indeterminate amount of time passed and all of my senses began to subside and fall into the background. My mind raced; much like the moments preceding the nightly arrival of the sandman. My hand nudged the wall of the tank and then; my foot did also and I found myself growing in frustration.

Relaxing my neck and allowing my ears to becoming submerged I concentrated on my heartbeat; which was now being amplified through the water. It slowed and with it; so did my perception of time. There was a minute shift of inertia and my mind told me that I was floating down a river. I had become Baloo from Disney’s Jungle Book.

I was nearing a waterfall when fear reared its head, shattering the illusion and dropping me back into reality with a splash. After clearing the salt water from my eyes and allowing the panic to subside; I laid back down. I rubbed my thumbs against my index and middle fingers expecting my skin to feel prune-like as I was sure that I had already been inside the tank for an hour; but much to my surprise it felt slippery and lubricated. I huffed a laugh; which echoed momentarily and then submerged my ears again under the water in order to listen to my heartbeat once more.

I closed my eyes. Or, did I? In pitch blackness who’s to tell?

My heartbeat echoed and it was all that I could hear; it sounded warm and ever-so-slightly muffled and in that moment I believed that I was in utero, waiting to be born; yet although I was conscious enough to make this connection; my mind seemed to be elsewhere. Clouds of colour emerged and then; longing groped gently on my mind, lifting it from my body. It wasn’t painful; no, but there was a feeling of déjà vu as I left my body behind; as though entering the dream world via the back-door.

A stream of blue-green from up ahead tethered itself to my mind and then began to pull. The clouds of colour passed me by, cycling through the rainbow and back again. An indeterminate amount of time passed whilst I travelled, and then; the clouds began to dissipate. I looked to my left and saw nothing but mist. I turned to my right and there in front of me was a brain, pink and clean and hovering; entirely unconnected. The brain was my own. It didn’t have eyes; but I knew that it was looking at me.

The brain, my brain; it began to separate, splitting into its two hemispheres; left and right. The hemispheres began to vibrate and talk to one another in a language I neither understood nor could identify; however, deep within the recesses of my mind I recognised it; as though I had once been fluent; yet had forgotten. A language that my forefathers used; one which I feel I should’ve inherited.

The hemispheres held court; debating and arguing as if passing judgement on me.

Inside the tank; my hand ran across my torso. It slid across my skin without resistance and felt wonderful; the salt water had left my body feeling glazed. I thought the words “I want my body to feel like this forever” and then allowed my hands to fall to my sides. Outside the tank; with my consciousness; the brain didn’t miss a beat and split further; each hemisphere rotating gently; turning their attention entirely towards me.

The Rorschach or flesh announced; “to feel like this more; do yoga.” And then they turned towards each other and continued their debating.

Panpipe music began to play and the blue-green tether rescinded its pull and allowed safe passage back to the tank.

I opened my eyes.

I get the same dismissive look whenever I tell people of my experience; the same that they may give when talking to somebody who is under the influence of drugs or alcohol. I’m fully aware of how far-fetched my story sounds, and to be honest with you; I’m still unsure of whether what I experienced was a psychedelic experience of just a dream.

I admit; it took a while to convince myself to take a yoga class because of innate prejudices I held towards it, but as I near the four-year anniversary of my first float; my mental health is at an all-time high. I eventually relented and took the advice I received within the tank and I am pleased to say that the decision to practise yoga was probably the most important I have ever made.

In the four years since I had my first float; I have a new-found passion for writing. I have found inner peace, and my life no longer feels stagnant. I feel fulfilled, and although I am currently unpublished; because of the improved clarity of my dreams and the stories I retrieve therein; I remain optimistic.

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