“In college. A bunch of us did it. It was my first year, our dorm floor went on a little outing—to “bond,” you know. And my roommate and I and about six or seven others, we took acid.” I look at him, shrug.

“So what happened?”

“Oh, it was … Well, it was on a sugar cube. This brown stain in the middle of a pure white sugar cube. It looked to me like sin on a soul. And I put it in my mouth and I waited for it to dissolve, and as soon as it was gone I got this terrible, panicky feeling. It was like realizing you’d just stepped into quicksand. I sat down in a field—we were out in this beautiful park—and I just waited. And after a while, I started to feel this sense of such … wisdom.”

Chip laughs. “Right. ‘We are all one.’”

“Yes. Yes. And my roommate lay down next to me and she said—in this terrifically calm voice—she said, ‘I think I’m going to die now.’ She really thought she was going to die, but she was so calm about it.”

I realize, suddenly, that I’m talking about dying to a dying man. But Chip appears unfazed. It seems that for the time being, he has put thoughts of his own death out of his mind. As we do.

“So she’s lying there,” I continue, “saying this stuff, and at first I thought, oh God, maybe I ought to do something. But I didn’t. I just sat there. And then I got really calm, too. I remember thinking, well, that’s okay that she’s dying. That’s all right. It’s the Mighty Journey. It’s good. It’s natural. I started looking into the centers of all the wild-flowers, and I saw this pattern that seemed to me to be echoed everywhere, within and without, you know, and I started saying ‘It’s all right here.’ Over and over, ‘It’s all right here.’” I laugh, look over at him. “I don’t know. In some ways, I guess I still think that.”

“Sounds to me like you had a pretty good time. I’m surprised you didn’t take it again.”

“Oh, it didn’t stay a good time. There came a point when I had to pee. But I wasn’t really sure. I mean, I had the sensation, but it was … separate. It was as though I were holding the feeling for someone else.”

“I know exactly what you mean.” We are at a stoplight, and I look over at Chip. His eyes are closed. He’s smiling.