Fear and Loathing...and Delirium.

Here's the scene. I finally sat down to watch Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, a movie I had seen bits and pieces of, but never the full thing. I had food and drink, and I was ready to give the movie my full attention.

I got through a good chunk of the movie before my exhaustion began to catch up with me. I had been running on two-and-a-half hours of sleep, not the good kind, and my body was ready to call it quits. Sometime around the scene where Raoul and Dr. Gonzo hit ether and stumble into the casino, I started to experience my own type of trip. The most natural, and most likely the first kind, of trip mankind had ever encountered: Sleep deprivation.

Maybe the first caveman to experience this had a tough few days of hunting woolly mammoth, and finally gave out. Who knows what myths and legends were born of this process of the brain; stringing together random facts and images into horrifying journeys. I'm sure there are a good number of people who will eventually read this that have never partaken in illicit substances, but I highly recommend at least one run of sleep deprivation tripping. It's free, it's legal, and all it costs you is a couple of sleepless nights. One of the only ways, I think, to understand the power of the human mind is to see the batshit-crazy things it does when it betrays your senses. 

So, while watching this movie where hallucinogenic drugs are key plot points, I began to lose my own sense of reality to my exhaustion. I remember popping in and out of recovery sleep, the kind of sleep where your body and mind basically force you unconscious. My mind began to use the movie to fill in holes. Between waking and sleep, I saw parts of the movie; a hotel room filled with water, Dr. Gonzo with a gun, the waitress, an increasingly-wrecked convertible, lizards in a club. I woke up, fully woke up, at the scene where Raoul is tearing through the Nevada desert, trying to get Gonzo to the airport in time. My brain saw panic, and gave me panic in return. I woke up not rested, partially because 30 minutes or so of sleep isn't very restful, but with adrenaline in me. I couldn't miss my plane.

Gradually, my mind started to separate fact from reality once again; movie from real life. By the time the end credits rolled, I seemed more worn out that when I first started. Sometimes, it's amazing how much control over your body your mind has. Perhaps I'll fall asleep better tonight, but not to Hunter S. Thompson.