"The angels are real. Listen to them."
I woke up in a haze, not sure of where I was or where I'd been. The light felt soft on my eyes, but my vision was hazy. I was laying on someone's couch. It smelled like cigarette butts. I decided to lay there for a while to recollect what happened, but it didn't seem like I fully could. All I remembered was a black void. I couldn't feel my body at all. I wouldn't say I was floating, but just there. In the void, I could feel a light coming from the distance. As it grew and came closer, I started to feel afraid. Then it showed up all at once.
It was a glowing orb of pure light. In the center, it had a dark purple hue. Further out from the center, the hue was lighter. Even though it made me afraid, I knew that it was peaceful. Strangely enough, I felt a sense of comfort alongside the fear. I don't remember anything else.
I was in someone's living room. There was a small glass coffee table in front of me. I turned my head and saw an assortment of trash, loose glass pipes, and ash sprinkled throughout. I looked above me and saw a ceiling fan spinning slowly. After several minutes, I sat up on the couch. My head felt airy. I wasn't in pain, just disoriented. Next to the couch was a set of stairs leading up to a door. From behind the door, I could hear rustling and squeaking.
"Ah, shit!" A voice shouted from behind the door.
There was more rustling and squeaking. I heard what sounded like glass clanking. It was silent for a several seconds, and then the door flung open. A man came outside the door. He had an athletic build and a long bushy beard. He didn't have a shirt on, but was wearing beige drawstring shorts. He was carrying a glass pipe. The stairs creaked loudly as he walked down them. He saw me and his face lit up.
"Oh, you're awake before me today? Well how about that," he said. "I guess I'll take that as a good omen for the new year."
He shuffled over and took a seat next to me on the couch. After rummaging around the coffee table, he turns to me. "You know where that lighter went?" He asked. I was still feeling disoriented and wasn't sure how to answer. I avoided eye contact with him. He snapped his fingers around my face. "You're not even booted up all the way yet, are you? I'll figure something out." He jolted up from the couch and walked past the staircase down a hallway. I couldn't see past it.
Then I heard what sounded like a pounding on a door. "Yo, Stu, open up. I need a light," he said. A few seconds went by. I heard a louder pounding on the door. "Stu, there's no way you're not awake, man. It's already three o'clock," he continued. After that, I heard what sounded like a door creaking open. Another few seconds went by. "Hey, thanks, man" he said in a softer voice. I heard his heavy footsteps coming closer and saw him come back to the couch. In his other hand was a small yellow lighter. He plopped back down onto the couch next to me, set the lighter and pipe down, and picked up a small glass jar on the table. There was some kind of herb in there, small crushed brown leaves. He pinched some out and loaded it into the pipe's bowl. After putting the pipe up to his mouth, he lit the bowl and inhaled the smoke spinning inside the pipe. He held it in for a moment and let out a strong exhale. The odor from the smoke was pungent and smelled like wet roses.
"Whew, ain't nothin' like a wake and quake, right?" He said, looking toward me. I still couldn't process what was going on. I stared at him blankly. "Hey, are you doing alright?" He asks.
"Who are you?"
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