Old skool.......

Dream Frequency - Take Me To The Top

Dream Frequency Feat. Debbie Sharp - Take me to the top

Porn Kings - Pumpin The Junk

Just Move Your Body

Visualizer Music Video : https://youtu.be/ncBHDoL8AQg
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Fractal portals, hypnotic bass—this space trip resets your brain.
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Voyage of the Fractal Nomad
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Page 1: The Cocoon and the Call
In the pitch-black cradle of deep-sector 91‑Δ, something stirred.

The Cocoon was not a ship in the traditional sense. It pulsed, breathed, and dreamed. Its hull was laced with thin-film iridescence, woven from the silk of bioluminescent mycelia. Inside, a singular entity began to wake—the Fractal Nomad. Not born, not made, but grown from the remains of a forgotten psynaut and an ancient fungal intelligence.

No alarms. No spoken commands. Just a vibration that deepened into meaning.

The Nomad blinked twice. Not eyelids—there were no more eyes. But consciousness phased into clarity. A lattice of liquid sunlight unfolded across the Cocoon’s canopy. That was the signal.

The solar sails unfurled, silent sheets of translucent light slicing through vacuum like blooming petals. The Cocoon heaved forward, stretching spacetime into a tunnel of colorless heat. As it entered slipstream velocity, the Cocoon's internal symbiotes pulsed in sync, lubricating the journey with ionized thoughtform lubricants.

And then... they descended.

Not downward, but inward. Into something deeper than space.

Page 2: Tunnels of Smoke and Memory
The slipstream was not linear. It twisted like a Möbius nerve—a loop folded upon itself, hiding deeper truths with every pulse. Inside the stream, light behaved like thought, and thought behaved like fluid.

The Nomad’s mind flickered with echoes of past lives: dying on a jungle planet while mushrooms sang dirges; drowning in clouds made of serotonin; kissing a mirrored self on a moon with no name.

The Cocoon shook.

A metallic howl rippled through the spine of the vessel. The warp coils strained, each one a living organ wrapped in platinum membranes. Electro-psionic turbulence tore at the mycelial lattice, splitting it momentarily into kaleidoscopic nerve clusters.

They were being rerouted. Something unseen had hijacked the trajectory.

But then came the release.

The Cocoon burst into a nebular blossom—a great flower made of starfire and pheromone dust. The Nomad hovered in its core like a bee tasting eternity.

Time bled into petals.

Page 3: The Bloom, the Chorus, and the Caravan
An 8-second eternity.

The Cocoon drifted inside a radiant prismatic bloom, where rainbow light condensed into liquid lenses. Through them, the Nomad could see latticework cities built by forgotten species: organic skyscrapers, breathing streets, psychic highways.

Then, something emerged from the bloom—a mushroom spire, golden and immense, coiling around the Cocoon. It released a harmonic burst of spores, each one humming a perfect A♯ frequency. The chorus of spores sang a name the Nomad had never known it had.

And with that, the Cocoon recalibrated.

A swarm of micro-vessels unfurled from its hull—the Quantum Caravan. These weren’t ships; they were fragments of the Nomad’s own psyche, each carrying a different version of truth. They aligned into a spiral formation and began gliding across a plane of turquoise plasma.


Continues on the website:
https://grasspatchbum.com/2025/07/29/voyage-of-the-fractal-nomad/

#techno  #4kvisualizer  #psychedelictechno  #trippyart

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