Meditation makes me as high as a kite

I had this dream a couple of nights ago, triggered I think by my drunken reading of Brida (I wasn't drunk but I read it so fast it made me feel sick) and then a meditation session.

I dreamed of meeting people who were travelling back through their past reincarnations. At one point I was in the round and tiny room of a tower and a woman was about to morph into the moment of her last death, mauled or suffocated by a lion. Myself and my unidentifiable companion glided onto the top of wardrobe to be out of the action. The physical point of reincarnation was the third eye and this could be identified by a small pus-y hole.

Meditation makes me as high as a kite.

And so I wonder at its addictiveness.

The architecture of writing is preoccupying me.

I am so looking forward to walking around a large city anonymously.