The search
By lunchtime, I had typed every possible keyword into Google that could lead me to my "secret admirer" or any clarification on the Cosmic Lotus. I needed to know the origin of the manuscript's contents. Had my admirer made it up? Was it all just a psychological trick?
But the lingering heat and fullness in my belly seemed to radiate throughout my body, warming my heart with a joy that I can only describe as ... godly. The idea of merely being mind-fucked was something I couldn't accept. I needed to get to the bottom of this mystery.
However, at the time, I was working as an administrative assistant at a financial firm where emails needed answering, and meetings needed scheduling. More than that, I had been aiming for the position of office manager. Perhaps I was wrong to feel so emboldened by the rituals I'd been practicingβtheir intended purpose was to improve the quality of my life, after all - and I took this to mean a promotion.
The problem was this Cosmic Lotus had started taking over my mind and absorbing all my attention. It was having the opposite effect on my life! The emails went unanswered as I broke my brain trying to find ways to phrase "giant lotus that fucks you in your dreams" in the Google search bar. I was starting to lose hope.
At one point, I sat back in my chair and relaxed into my daydream about the next "astral worship." I gazed down at my feet and imagined black tendrils wrapping around my feet and ankles ...
That could work!
With difficulty, I pulled myself out of the fantasy and searched: "long black tendrils with red flower." I scrolled slowly, expectantly, as if to manifest the result I was looking for. And suddenly, there it was, highlighted in bold in the meta-text under a forum title I can't remember now:
...
long, black tendrils
or tentacles...
...moved like snakes...
..a
red
...
It was a post by a user named "kenandthedoll" who had had his own peculiar experience. However, our stories were wholly different. He briefly relayed his adventures with a woman and her (cuck) husband and ended his post with a description of the familiar tendrils, a glass tank, and a red...
light
?
My heart stopped for a moment while I scanned the post over and over, seeing in the familiar words an even more familiar picture. There was no mention of a dream, however. Since there was no way to contact the poster directly, I left a comment, the only helpful one amid rows of question marks and suggestions that he "lay off the acid."
I left a short description of the handwritten manuscript, the rituals, and the insanely vivid dream. Most importantly, I asked if we could get in touch to "compare notes," so to speak. He wouldn't respond that day, the day after, or the day after that.
I revisited the post on day three of waiting and saw that he had posted it in December of last year. I must have been so overcome with excitement when I first discovered the post that I failed to notice this detail. He'd probably already abandoned the investigation.
Luckily, some reprieve from the crushing disappointment would find me that night in the form of another dream. After the first successful "worshipping" session, there was no way I was going to quit the Lotus Rituals.
The second dream
I couldn't open my eyes. Even as a cool breeze stirred the trees and foliage around me, I could only imagine them swaying under the glow of the stars. Crickets chirped, frogs croaked in the distance, and one lone cicada sang.
I couldn't move eitherβI was a statue in the midst of brilliant natural beauty, unable to interact with it. So, I listened, and I felt. The touch of cool air confirmed that I was naked again, but the sounds of the night gave no clue as to what would release me from the spell of blind immobility.
I thought I heard footsteps.
Noβit was real. I heard them!
Twigs crunched closer and closer. My heart pumped warm blood through my frozen body, causing me to break out in a cold sweat. Uneasy breaths hissed through my nostrils and added to the night cacophony. Any attempt to control or suppress it was in vain. If you've ever had sleep paralysis, you'll know what I'm talking about.
I whimpered, knowing it didn't matter if I made a sound. The one coming toward me had their eyes open, they could see me, and they were coming directly at me. I shivered, though not outwardly. My state of paralysis refused even fear to manifest in the quiver of a finger, leaving all the pent-up anxiety to collect in the pit of my stomach.
The footsteps had come to a standstill next to me. Warm breath blew against my ear.
"Shh, it's alright," whispered a male voice.
If I could, I would have jumped.
Who are you?
I thought, unable to speak.
"Anima," he breathed into my ear, his lips brushing against it.
Animal?
"Sure," he sounded amused, "if that's what you want."
Though I thought the music of the night insects would go on forever, it dampened at that moment, softening gradually at first, then ceased entirely all at once. Dead silence. All I could hear was his breathing next to my ear and the repetition of that word in my head.
Animal.