Teemo lay back and relaxed onto the couch.
Sweat trickled down his cheeks as the shrooms kicked in as his tongue tingled and mingled with the electrifying, tangy spark of psilocybin. His cheeks and his lips alternated between numb and ticklish. His pupils dilated and his vision blurred. The room around him distorted and twisted, as the walls bent and stretched and compressed like funky house mirrors and as lightly tinted hues of reds, greens, yellows, blues, oranges and purples danced and played their song on the walls, ceilings and furniture. The ticks of the clock on the wall ticked slower and slower, and...came to a stop.
His soul ached with the sudden awareness of his need to transform and fly to leave his mortal coil. He rose from his mortal body, and felt the release as the newly born butterfly feels when it leaves its chrysalis. His spiritual being flitted upwards from his body. He flew past walls and windows, through roofs and chimneys, up above trees and towers and castles, across puffy white clouds and the bluish roof of the sky, into the inky blackness of space.
The roaring in his ears grew louder and louder as he hurtled past moons and planets dressed in majestic rings, great bands of clouds, stars of reds, blues, and whites, multicolored nebulae of helixes and arches and circles and rings, until it stopped and he felt himself floating in the vastness of space, wreathed in the arms of hundreds of thousands of sparkling and shimmering galaxies and bathed in their light. He became aware of the deep, calming ancient hymn that carried through his bones and flesh. It reverberated within his soul, calling out to him, beckoning him to it.
He lay back in the deep crystal ocean of stars upon stars, gazed in awe at the multicolored universe that shone down softly with a stellar, noble light and felt himself one and whole and at peace.