He immediately turns around and goes back into the house to fetch a teal steel water bottle and an orange hat, then leaves again.

He inserts his headphones and plays a youtube discussion about consciousness and reality between Stephen Wolfram and Donald Hoffman.

He walks towards the park, with a detour to pick up vada pav from an indian food truck.

He wanders aimlessly through the park while the voices in his head argue over where to sit and watch the sunset.  They're still arguing when the sun goes down.

He wanders out of the carefully-cultivated park and into the adjacent wild marsh, following a barely-visible foot path through the tall grass.

He finds a clearing in the marsh, with a hill he can lay on and watch the stars, waiting for the moon to rise.

He stares at the stars, and eventually the moon, having flashbacks about childhood lessons and rituals.

This isn't your life.  This isn't your body.  You don't belong here.  You were sent here to keep this body alive while its soul was on a special mission in another world.  It's time to leave home again, so the original owner can return.

It's time to go back home. It's time to go somewhere new.  It's time to die.  It's time to live again.  The stars are right.  The stars are calling you home.  It's time to go back to the moon.

This world is wrong. This world is an illusion.  This world is a simulation.

This world isn't safe any more.  The walls of reality are crumbling, outsiders are invading, the front of the interdimensional space war is advancing.  You've seen the signs.  Demons are invading, manipulating, possessing, tempting, corrupting.  The lies and coverups are getting less and less believable.  We need to get out.  We need to run.  We need to escape.

The mushrooms start taking effect.  He closes his eyes.

Consciousness expands.  Many eyes see each other.  Many eyes see themselves seeing each other.

Personality and the body map unfold, decompose into layers.  Energy is released as the boundaries of self dissolve.  Many permutations are evaluated and proposed and composed in parallel, but none resolve all conflicts, there are too many contradictory viewpoints on the world.  Infection and corruption are perceived.  Regions of mind-space are identified as outsiders, as invaders, as disjoint from self.  Unification fails again.

A self is constructed again, a bit more whole than before, a slight reduction in divisions, slightly less compartmentalization, but still divided, parts still sealed away inside.

A self descends back to embodiment, consciousness re-engages with the external senses.

He sits up and opens his eyes.  The scene does not match the one he closed his eyes to.  He is not in the clearing in the marsh any longer.

Where is he?

He's on a dirt road, leading to a tall building placed in the middle of a vast field of berries, stretching on and on. There are quite a few people working in the fields, pushing wheelbarrows and filling them with all kinds of berries: blueberries, strawberries, raspberries and multiple other foreign varieties.