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Three hours after the rave. . .
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| . . .so, what you're saying is that all of this is fantasy, an illusion caused by the copious amounts of peyote I ingested at the rave, right? | |
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| FINALLY! We're getting somewhere. | |
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| You see, you got into this whole thing by thinking that peyote would send you on what the Indians call a "dream quest", which is really a series of psychadelic hallucinations. | |
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| Sorry, I wasn't listening. Could you turn back into that chick with the big tits again? | |
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| Arrrrgh! Matey, if I wasn't a figment of yer drug-addled imagination, I'd kick ye in the nuts. | |
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