My eyes woke up to the faded blue, white hospital light surrounding me with the faded feeling of a nightmare of black oily feathers tickling the back of my throat. It was a false white light that got lighter as the blurry blue images became bodies. Their monotone medical music notes talked over as they spoke of my injuries: a bruised neck, a concussed brain, multiple purples blemishes up and down my body, and malignant tumors swimming in my bloodstream.

"Cancer? I have cancer?" My voice was weak compared to the doctor who was now in full clarity.

"Oh. Ms. Dogwood. I see you're awake. I—I don't know how to break this to you, but. . ." The doctor paused but then came clean. "Ms. Dogwood, I'm sorry to say but, we've located a tumor inside your brain. You have grade four glioblastoma with other tumors growing inside you. It must have gotten into your bloodstream and propagated in other places—Ms. Dogwood, are you okay?" I stared at the doctor and the nurses that stood around me with fake saddened faces. I wasn't scared for some reason because I didn't seem to believe this was my reality. So, I laughed instead.

"Nah, y'all have to be shitting me. This is just some game Sam's gotten you into. Aww man, when I get to hear his laugh after this." The doctor interjected.

"No, Ms. Dogwood, I'm not kidding around. We have tested your blood, and you are swimming in cancerous brain cells." I stopped laughing.

"Really?" My voice lowered to a soft whisper as my smile slowly disappeared into a frown.

"Yes." The doctor was nice about it as he told me I only had a few months to live. That's okay though; I didn't have a life, but as I was walking out to the lobby, Sam was sitting there in the little wooden chair with the same giddy smile as always, so bright, I couldn't help but smile beneath my tears. Warm sunlight rays easily filtered though the sunlit windows, shadowing everyone which sat in uneasy cushioned chairs. They were shadowed by death and the sick that clouded the tall ceilinged waiting room.

"Sam. Sam, I have to tell you something. Please—"

"It's okay Rose, I know. I know." He teared up too as he stood up, and we embraced each other's kindness and love for each other's lives.

"I'm ready to go home, Sam." I mumbled into his shoulder. "I just want to go home." He pushed me to arms length. His warm blue eyes sparked against the sun with a brilliant blue hue.

"I have just the cure for you." His ridiculous innocent psychotic smile came back as he lifted up a ziplock bag of brown dried mushrooms.

"Sam!" I pushed him outside into the trees, and looked around crazily to see if anyone saw.

"What?" Sam laughed as if I were the crazy one. It was hot hot hot as the wind swam against the humid air—so thick—it was practically suffocating.

"Where the hell'd you get those?" I harshly pressed my nose against Sam's when a bicycle went by, ringing its bell; the sound illuminated and echoed off the stuccoed beige hospital.

"What? They're just shrooms." He chuckled, shrugging his shoulders.

"Shrooms?" I turned back to him. "Shrooms?! Just bloody shrooms? Who the hell gave these to you, Sam?" Hissing under my breath, I poked the bag angrily.

"They said it'd help me with my depression." Sam's face fell.

"No, Sam, they won't, and I don't even think you have depression."

"Come on they're not that bad. Just do one trip with me, Rose, and you'll see." I stalled. I shouldn't do this. I know my better judgement, but then again, what do I have to lose? But no! No, it'll make matters worse. You already can't figure out reality from psychosis.

"I'd love to, Sam. Maybe it'll help me with my problems." What? No. That's not what I said!

"Your house?" Sam asked. My smile said everything, but yet not enough.

"Okay then." NO!

Sam reached his arm around my shoulders directing me down the street. This is the most sane he's ever been, and now we were about to drown it with tea.

—-

We made sure the room was cleaned of everything so it was empty and warm, and that nothing could offset our beautiful trip, but really, I didn't want to have a bad experience, because that would only make matters worse.

I made sure the windows were closed so that wind wouldn't offset it, and I closed the red curtains, but I had a feeling the redness of the room would be an issue. Then again, why are you trying so hard to not have a bad trip? It's just shrooms after all. The chances of having one is low your first time. Yes, it was your first time, but not mine.

The tea was absolutely disgusting no matter how much sugar Sam put into the intoxicating brew, and once we ate the mushy mushrooms, we waited.

"What're you looking to get out of this, Sam?" We were leaned against the faded wall in the warmth that surround and filled the room. I turned my head to him to see his profile starring sweetly at the corner where the walls turned into the ceiling.

"Oh, I dunno, I just kind of wanted to try them."

"Uhh fucking shit, Sam! You can't just do that!" He turned his head to look at me. "Are you even real, Sam? Or are you just a figment of my imagination; the ghost who keeps telling me to do stupid shit like this?" My breathing became erratic as the world's colors blended in a nauseating way. "I don't do well with rollercoasters, Sam, they make me very sick." His black hair burned red in light as somehow the curtains were removed...or burned away.

"I can't take this, Sam, I'm out of here." I tried to get up, but the world squished me and swayed me to and fro. The walls began to melt like wax candles, and voices began to sing in agony from the fiery melting wallpaper. I saw Sam melt in the heat like wax, screaming out in pain. He dropped to the floor, marveling with panging screams over his chopped off hands and disappearing fingers. I crumbled over the sound of his hellish, demonic like, blood curdling scream that echoed from the pit of his stomach.

"Make it stop. Make it stop!" But once stuck in the dream, no one can escape the eight hour joyride. While the wax melted, the floorboards caught fire from the deep crimson red light of the bloody sun, and the red flamed wooden floorboards shriveled up and snapped, splintering my legs giving way to whitened beach sand, and white bones splintering in pain.

"Sam!" I turned around to see the room had caught aflame; The sparks were getting in my eyes and hair, burning every inch of my damned soul. "Sam!" My voice became distant as did the room too, and before I knew it, the bad trip was actually beneficiary, or so I would be told, to my problems.

. . .