Act 1 - The Discovery of the Spiral

Act 1 - The Discovery of the Spiral

Yaşar and I had met just a couple of weeks prior and fallen deeply in love; we had been having a truly wonderful time together. We both appreciate LSD, so on a Tuesday evening in March 2025, we decided to take two drops of liquid acid.

The trip began in a normal and enjoyable way. As psytrance enthusiasts, we alternated between dancing and cuddling, lost in the music and each other.

I am deeply passionate about dancing; indeed, it’s almost addictive for me, as I find it hard to stop once I start. Over years of attending psytrance parties, I’ve cultivated a unique dance style. It’s an expressive dance, precisely tailored to the music, where my body and arms move freely yet with control—both symmetrically and asymmetrically—in a way that mimics the perceived nature of reality, its ceaseless energy flows and collapses. I’ve developed a whole repertoire of moves and combinations that I can now sequence without conscious effort. A frequently recurring theme in my dancing involves distinct spiral movements with my arms. These particular spiral motions would prove to be crucial in how this trip, and the ones that followed, were to unfold.

At one point, while we were both dancing in the kitchen, I suddenly felt myself pulled by an invisible, compelling force. As I yielded to it, I witnessed space and time transform into something like a card index of vector spaces that I could traverse. With the passing of each dimensional node, I heard a subtle, clean click. The force itself, I realized, was a spiral. I found I could easily disengage from it by changing my movements. The experience was amazing. I shouted to Yaşar, “I can travel through time with my dance!”

Afterward, I discovered I could locate this force even without needing to dance. Over the course of the trip, I identified a constellation of distinct spirals within my home. I simply had to feel for them in the air, a subtle seeking, and then immerse myself in their unique Spiral Force. I started playing with one of these spirals, and as I did, I suddenly found myself able to traverse to what felt like the very beginning, and then to the ultimate end, of time.

At one particular point, I had an epiphany—or perhaps more accurately, I inadvertently gained access to a universal truth so potent and overwhelming it felt as though I had trespassed into a forbidden domain of knowledge. I can’t recall its exact nature now, but it was a truth that went to the very core of reality itself, and the knowledge, once witnessed, felt utterly irrevocable. As a direct and terrifying result of seeing this hidden knowledge, the immense responsibility for the coherence of the entire universe was instantly placed upon my shoulders. It wasn’t a feeling, but a tangible burden. My reaction was primal; I remember screaming aloud things like, “This cannot be true!” and “Why me?!” Yaşar was visibly very worried, asking urgently, “What cannot be true? What did you see?!” But my sole, overwhelming impulse was to protect him. This terrible responsibility was now mine to carry, and I knew I could not, under any circumstances, involve him in it. I could only reassure him with a lie: “Nothing, everything is okay.”

But the spirals held a potent attraction for me, and I kept discovering more of them. Through these initial explorations, I came to understand that I was using the Spiral in what I can only describe as a ‘read-only mode.’ The traversal felt incredibly snappy, an effortless observation of other points in spacetime, and it was governed by what I sensed was some sort of ‘sorting algorithm’—a safety feature that always ensured I was returned to my initial location whenever I disengaged.

This understanding was put to a terrifying test at one point, back in the living room. Yaşar was on the couch, observing me intently as I found a particularly large spiral that seemed to stretch from the living room all the way into my hallway. This discovery, this interaction, initiated a bewildering and inescapable loop. I would witness the universe’s collapse, only to be instantly reset to the exact moment I was showing Yaşar the spiral while he was trying to understand my movements. I experienced this harrowing cycle approximately five times before I finally decided to break it. Each iteration was subtly different in its unfolding, yet all of them converged upon the same terrifying outcome: the silent, all-consuming collapse of existence itself.

In each cycle of the loop, I witnessed what felt like five or six subsequent steps—experienced as intense déjà vus—of pivotal moments, or paradigm shifts, in our future understanding of the Spiral Force: first, passively traversing its currents, and later, learning to control it and even make alterations. In these vivid snapshots of potential futures, I saw Yaşar and myself being recognized as the individuals behind mankind’s greatest discovery. I even saw my own house revered as a hallowed historical landmark. Then, after I witnessed how we eventually found a way to traverse space and time with complete freedom, even making alterations to reality, everything invariably went haywire, ultimately leading to the universe’s devastating collapse into a state of pure nothingness. And then, abruptly, I was back at the beginning of that cycle, in my living room, demonstrating the spiral to Yaşar. My dawning understanding was that after each universal collapse, I was being sent back to a point just before the first of these ‘paradigm shifts,’ but into a parallel reality that had not yet suffered that destruction.

During these repeated demonstrations of the Spiral Force, Yaşar also had his own profound epiphany. I vividly remember him saying things like, “This changes everything,” and, “This is too big. What should we do? How can we live with this?” Afterward, he told me he had witnessed my physical appearance changing, that I seemed to be getting older and younger in rapid succession as I traversed the spiral. However, Yaşar’s own recollection of this specific part of the trip is very fragmentary. There was certainly a moment where I, desperately trying to understand what was happening, was describing aloud what I was witnessing. I remember repeatedly screaming at Yaşar, “Make a video! You have to make a video!” but he has no conscious memory of this.

Anyway, returning to the cycle: after experiencing the universe’s tragic collapse several times, we deliberately broke the loop. We decided to take a bath together, as a way to ground ourselves, rather than continuing to unravel the formidable mysteries of the Spiral Force. This simple act worked. We spent the rest of the night trying to focus on other, more mundane things, seeking refuge in the ordinary. Although, I do also recall later attempting to teach Yaşar how to tap into the Spiral Force himself, which he eventually, tentatively, managed to do, albeit without achieving the same spacetime traversal I had.

Overall, that evening felt incredibly monumental for both of us, a turning point in our shared existence. We felt a strong connection and were left with the overwhelming feeling that we were truly meant to be together, and that from that point onward, our bond could only grow stronger.

Unfortunately, we couldn’t have been more wrong.