I want to taste six seeds of pomegranate, a bite of bitter quince. I want the hearty wine and crusty bread of experience to pass my palate. How to make the dreams of the silent conscious come to fruition? the mythos of sensational being enact and reenact the cycle? I want to dream, lucid, and find a rich inner landscape full of unexplored images and meanings. I want to lie in a star of women, heads inwards feet raying out, with thirteen candles lit at our crowns and amber incense smoking in a ring around us. Primal bells and drums-- ringing, beating, driving us deeper into our selves. So deep that we find each other reflected in the volcano's clear caldera.