was there? Was it around the end of the bar? It couldn’t be up the stairs… For all we knew, at the top was Broadway. But then, shouldn’t we be at the New York-New York? Something compelled me to continue this misadventure up there, but my mind pictured all sorts of crude scenarios… Whatever depravity awaited would plunge us further into the depths of lunacy and farther from any door out of this place. If this was some kind of immersive disco steak- house, with hired roller skaters and costumed actors, then we were playing the part of brash gutter bar ies for free -- me, an obvious dealer, sitting between two burnouts growing ten decibels louder with every drink. Ford would continually assure, nobody's looking at us , but I could feel their gaze... Talking giants and salvia and bitcoin… ey continued to shout over the music, even aer we’d paid the bill, which came in an orange slip like a parking ticket. It was coming, oh god, this great coursing climax of craziness was going to hit soon, I could feel rising vibrations waiting in the wings to stomp my senses. Were the others reaching this same peak? is madness? Hard to sit still … Maybe I’d taken too much. I broke from a daze staring at a Charles Bronson movie poster to hear Huxley break into a full-on announcer voice as he related his nightmare: “Guys and girls got fucking separated. It was so real.” “You’re talking about a dream?” Ford asked. “It was actually the night I got up to come here. It was a lucid dream. I knew I was dreaming. We got put in this facility, and the guys found their way out. And right away we went running over this hill, on our way out, it felt so amazing, and all of a sudden I look back over my shoulder, oh shit, Becca is still back there, and all the dudes were like no, you gotta go, leave her, just go, it’s gone, and I’m like, no. I’m going back.” “He’s the hero in his own dream.” “It’s more than that! When I got back into this place, it was this… this black maze of all these doors and all these things happening and I found her, she was in this room of other females, and they’d already drained her, and I said ‘Becca, let’s go!’ None of them knew what was going on. … And all of a sudden everyone’s zoned in on us walking away, and I’m thinking Oh my God Oh my god, and I’m pulling her through dierent doors, and around dierent obstacles… it was unreal!” “What happened?” “We got out. It was a bunch of doors. In the dream I was army-focused. I was so focused, like
Continued from Page 38 Dear Ed, How can I collect and store pollen for use for ferti- lizing females later on? —Johnny Potseed Atlanta, Georgia Before the buds open, remove the branches with flower shoots to a space with no drafts. Place the branches side-
ways, so that they are lying hor- izontally on sheets of clean pa- per. Let the flowers open and release the pollen. Most of it should fall on the papers. Collect the pollen and place it in a glass- ine envelope. Place the envelope in an air-tight container with a mositure-absorbing gel. Place in a cool dark place such as the vegetable crisper section of the refrigerator if the pollen is being stored for up to two weeks. For longer periods of time, place the container in the freezer. Use the pollen as soon as it is removed. Dear Ed, Most of the grow info seems to be produced by people in cooler cli- mates (Washington, Oregon, and northern California) so seldom is air-conditioning mentioned. If you want to produce truly bad-assed kill- er pot, you’ve got to effectively con- trol the temperature, whether that’s growing in winter only or getting the room air-conditioner needed to hold the temperature down. Excessive heat, including heat generated by lamps, kills your chances of a good yeld. Sure, you can grow pot at 90°, but with all the heat stress, there’s not much energy left for photosyn- thesis or growth.
— BUDDAH, Holland Seed Grower
114 MARCH/APRIL 2026
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