Image RS Wing

  Weeks previous to Buzzy’s hanging, we both ‘dosed out’ on copious amounts of psilocybin mushrooms and decided to take a drive in my Chevy, Malibu.

  He sat in the back seat, for some odd reason. He toyed with me while driving through Daheim.

  Clenching my face from behind, he covered my eyes, as not to see the road before me. I yelled, “I’m in no mood to explain to Willy how I crashed into a maple tree on his palatial estate! Knock it off!”

  Buzzy was a merry prankster, but realized the danger and stopped blinding me.

  He would laugh and mischievously say, “Ahhh, you’re no fun Wing. You need a little danger in your life to keep you active and embrace the feeling of just being alive.”

  I responded, “With the constant stream of ever-changing hallucinations and vivid colour patterns, I think I’m all set for any danger zones this evening. Let me enjoy my ‘trip’ and stop spooking me out.”

  He didn’t!

  Apparently, the afternoon before his early morning suicide, he had been drinking Mescal and ate the psychedelic worm. On a walk through a local park, he was attacked by an unleashed vicious pit-bull that bit him in the leg quite severely.

  In retaliation, he picked up a sturdy stick and pummelled the canine to death, provoking the owner of the dog to then attack Buzzy. The fight lasted about five seconds, as Buzzy layed the dog owner out by breaking his jaw with one punch.

  Still infuriated, Buzzy purchased another flask of Mescal and guzzled the whole bottle, worm and all. This combination was deadly.

  His mother, Ingeborg, suffered from multiple sclerosis, but still managed to drag herself to her son’s swinging body, like a pendulum. It was late October and a passersby thought it was a Halloween prank.

  These horrid and tragic events started infiltrating my dreams, as I started experiencing visits from Buzzy from beyond the grave.

 Image RS Wing

  The nightmares began and kept repeating the same events of our evening ‘trip’ on Daheim. Each night, the intensity and progression was more vivid and quite frightening, having not got over the death of my close friend, it all seemed intertwined.

  In my nightmare, I would be driving on Daheim, alone, constantly looking into my rear view mirror, in fear of being blinded by clutching hands, covering my eyesight and a feeling of being pulled back. I would awaken, in a cold sweat, sore and stiff, then be afraid to resume my sleep. I almost felt possessed within my dream body.

  This scenario played out through many weeks. Was this Buzzy?

  In my final nightmare, I was still driving through the palatial estate, Daheim. This time I could actually smell the breath of an entity whispering into my ear,  “Ahhh, You’re no fun Wing.” It was the breath of Buzzy with the stench of Mescal and death overcoming me. He grabbed me by the face, dragging me into the backseat as I headed straight for a maple tree destined to crash. On impact, I awaken quickly drenched in sweat, unable to move. Completely paralyzed in my bed, frozen stiff, with the stench of Mescal in the room. I couldn’t move, but was able to visualize everything around me and in my conscious state of mind.

  I was finally able to scream, “Let go of me…….let go!”

  I was immediately released from his grips as the stench dissipated and the room became warmer. I was seriously frightened and freaked out beyond comprehension. Was Buzzy pulling one of his many merry pranks from beyond the grave?

 Image RS Wing