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One interesting side-effect of doing this, which was really most of the reason we did it, was that while you were out, you'd have extremely lucid, vivid dreams, which you could always recall upon awaking. (After all, you were only asleep for two seconds).

We were good kids, and had never, and would never try drugs, so to us, this was like a poor man's LSD. These visions, in some way, were usually related to what you were looking at right before you passed out. For example, once I dreamed that I was climbing a mountain. Way up in the Himalayas or something, but there was a hand rail there. Who the hell puts hand rails at 20,000 feet? When I came to and remembered where I was, I realized I had been looking at the staircase at the corner of my girlfriend's living room.

Another time, I had a vision of Fred Flintstone smiling and holding out his hand in front of a mural with the D.A.R.E. logo. (That's Drug Abuse Resistance Education, a program cops teach in public schools. You've probably seen the bumper stickers). I woke up and saw that my friend Brett had been standing in front of me right before I slipped into dreamland, and that logo was on his shirt. Where Fred Flintstone came from, I have no idea.

The visions were always mundane
things like those. Always, until that one day.

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