The Acid Diaries (Christopher Gray) / quote 87 of 125
Toddlers radiating silver light
I found myself—literally, as though I had just woken up—in the middle of Hampstead Village. I was standing in front of Christchurch, and in the forecourt of the church was a nursery school. The children were little more than toddlers, mostly two or three years old. They were all pottering around in their rapt, elated way, falling over and picking themselves up again, when to my amazement I saw that silver light was streaming off them. It was subtle, but perfectly distinct. I moved around to look at them from another angle, and it was still there. The children were all radiating silver light. They weren’t doing anything in particular, just staring at things in wonder and spacing out. They are sane! I said to myself. They are acting the way we are all meant to act! I wanted to climb over the gate, sit down at their feet, and learn the proper way to be . . . but, fortunately, I saw how gross and alarming I must appear. I had to turn my eyes aside from what was effectively a small group of angels I had bumped into and lurch on my way—lost, befuddled, and desperate.