“You should get a light show!” she says as the blaring music fills the bar room and bright strobe lights reflect off of the floor.
“Huh?” I replied completely perplexed, with one drink in my system. “What’s a light show?” She laughs and points me toward this girl wearing white gloves with bright, multi-colored neon lights flashing continuously in an unpredictable pattern.
I’m entranced. “It’s even better when you’ve taken something to enhance it,” my friend tells me.
The white-gloved girl waves her Christmas-lighted hands in quick circles and lines and unnameable polygons in front of my soon-to-be deejaying friend’s face. Her jubilee hands move in and out all around his face, coming within millimeters of his eyes and skin.
Logic tells me it’s only hands, lights, and random gestures. But I’m hypnotized. This light show . . . I want to experience.
The show finishes. My DJ friend’s face displays the satisfaction of a Buddha. I must know this nirvana.
My friend grabs my arm. I let her drag me to the light magicianess. The magicianess displays an expression of surprise when my friend tells her that I’ve never had a light show. The lady of light has a modest reluctance at being the first.
They clear a seat for me in front of the mage of light. Standing before me, she takes a bit of a breath. And then it begins.
The human, prehensile digits used for grasping cups and drinking become a portal to an otherworldly experience.
Her hands travel in infinite circles and eights around my ocular organs, becoming a roller coaster of lights. My mind is in a dizzy heaven. The bright roller coaster inches away from my eyes only to zoom into my face, almost grazing my eyelashes. The ride moves away again in a nebula, I’m in a haze of various colors and spheres. A hundred million, multi-colored stars dance around me. My brain is in a rush, yet my heart is at a standstill — I am at one with the universe.
And it engulfs me in love.
The universe shifts into a heart-shaped, rainbow-colored halo surrounding me. The heart fills my periphery, holding me in its pulse. My breathing ebbs in its effulgence. The glowing lights contract and grow. Then, the kaleidoscopic heart slows its pulse to an end. Dazzled and carefree, I look up at the Optic Goddess.
“How was it?” she asks, with her modest smile.
“Amazingly beautiful,” I answer, still basking in the experience. We share a gaze for a moment. I want to ask for her name. But the afterglow wears off, and shy, societal conditioning returns.
I thank her, walk back to our table and down the rest of my drink.