DOSE:	3 hits	oral	LSD	(blotter / tab)
	repeated	smoked	Cannabis	(flowers)

BODY WEIGHT:

130 lb

At the time of this experience I was 17 years old, in good physical health, 5’5 and 130lbs. I’ve experimented with nicotine, caffeine, alcohol, cannabis (as well as most new alt cannabinoids), mushrooms, LSD, Somas, Oxycodone, Adderall, Ativan, Benadryl, DXM, Gabapentin, and Kratom. As this report pertains to psychedelics, I’ll give a little backstory.

I’ve suffered from acute depression and general anxiety for as long as I can remember. I had been prescribed around 8 different medications to try to “fix me”, but this had only made the problem worse. After my first mushroom experience unmedicated, my depression almost entirely disappeared and I was much more in control of my state of mind. I had recently been dealing with what I consider mild PTSD (no longer attended therapy) after a particularly scarring experience with law enforcement, putting my life in shambles for 8 months.

At this point in time, I had tripped 14 times (I noted the dates and times), maybe 30 if you include high dose Benadryl and DXM to be tripping. The summer before this experience, I had gone on a psychedelic “binge” of sorts, going through 8 tabs and half an ounce of shrooms in 2 1/2 weeks. I was tripping every 2-3 days and was obsessing over it in the days between, all while holding a job and maintaining my composure in front of my parents. By the end of that, I had mild HPPD consisting mostly of lightly “swirling” patterns and “bouncing” text. This is not debilitating and I am almost pleased with it in a way, but it definitely affects my experience on psychedelics.

On this particular occasion, I was a few months into my senior year of high school, not a care in the world. I had a girl, an easy and well paying job, great friends, and a seemingly endless supply of cannabis available to me. It was not unusual for most of my friend group to smoke upwards of a quarter a day, some a half or more (in high school, nonetheless). We were all getting together to celebrate my friend’s (known as “B” from this point on) birthday. We all decided this occasion needed to be special.

Around 15 people were invited to B’s two bedroom apartment, and 18 tabs of acid were split amongst a few members of the group. 15 of those hits were a very weak batch, sold to us at a discount. It would take around 3 tabs to experience a standard *solid* one tab trip. L, A, J, R, B, and I were all taking LSD and planned to stay the night, while the rest were just smoking and drinking. My girlfriend, M, was also present. Due to previous traumatic experiences with edibles, she does not consume psychoactive substances of any kind. If she had not been present during this experience, I believe the outcome
could have been disastrous.

The first mistake we made was the hill. About a quarter mile from B’s apartment, there’s a large hill with a trail leading to two fire pits. After being declined permission by the owner of the first fire pit to use theirs previously (we really wanted s’mores), they had told us the second fire pit, slightly further up the trail, was public use. This information must have been false, although we had fires there countless times. We dropped our tabs around 4pm, everyone taking 3 except J. J was offered two gel tabs by someone else attending the party, and he gratefully accepted.

Fast forward to around 6pm. The sun has set, the tabs have now fully kicked in, the fire is roaring, and everyone is having a spectacular time. Tripping in a group of people that large in nature, especially with everyone being on different amounts of different substances, creates a really interesting environment. It felt almost as if a mix of childlike curiosity and survival instincts were merging, as well as an intense feeling of connection with all people present. Building fires, sharing stories, and stuttering in awe at the beautiful scenery surrounding us were the only things on our minds.

Around 6:30, it was time to smoke. At this point in the trip I felt like adding THC to the trip would heighten the effects to an unpleasant level, so I declined the bong. Now, on the other hand, J was all too eager to get started.

Remember how J had taken different LSD than the rest of us? He was. Extremely. Gone. He has a relatively low tolerance for all substances, yet always tends to take more than everyone else. It was pretty common for him to be the highest in the room, but this time was different. I could tell, even in my intoxicated state, that it was a bad idea for him to be consuming cannabis this deep into the trip. Not wanting to worry or upset anyone, I let J proceed. He’s handed a bong and a small handheld torch lighter, but is unable to use them by himself, accidentally burning his hand. The friend that offered him the bong offered to light his bowl for him. He torched the entire top of the bowl, embers glowing red hot. I had a feeling of dread.

Fast forward once again, maybe 20 minutes or so. People were still smoking, J was immobile on the ground, and M and I were just relaxing. All of a sudden I notice blue lights on the trees. “oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck” is the only thing I could think. Even writing this now, remembering the feeling is bringing tears to my eyes. I can remember that moment so vividly. The fear, then the denial. The second guessing. The half assed call, “Guys, uhhh, I think.... I think the cops are here”. The panic. That sick feeling of nostalgia, the one that rips you apart from the inside. Like a memory fading through your reality, constantly reminding you of the past. Reliving it. Experiencing it again. The searchlight shines up the extremely steep, rocky hill that we so precariously hiked up hours before. “HEY!”, a voice boomed from a megaphone, “DON’T MOVE!”.

The rush. The speed, running with everything I had, the rest of my tribe quickly catching up. A threat was imminent. The darkness. The branches. The all encompassing fear. There was no longer a trip, no longer a reality. There was no longer anything but escape in my mind. I ducked through thick branches, tripping over rocks and trampling bushes, no concern for my physical body. My body. It hurts. I realize that myself, as well as many others in the group, are trapped in a patch of thorns in the middle of a clearing. We’ve made it about 600 feet from the fire pit, but that’s 600 feet of thick foliage with no marked trail. I quickly get myself out of the thorns and frantically locate M. M. Safe. Where. Where. WHERE IS M?!? WHERE?!??! She appears seemingly out of nowhere, and knowing we have only moments, I grab her shoulders. “Are you okay?” I ask, almost sternly. “Yes, yeah I’m okay.” she replies. I grab her hand, stare her directly in the eyes, and say, “Run.”

We sprint. The wind. The grass. Cool air. The speed. The moon. The stars. I slow. M’s gone. Confused, I begin to walk slowly along the trail. Where am I? What was happening? Am I on acid? Where is everyone? Who am I? The questions race through my mind , never ending yet never answered, a riddle without a solution. Nothing matters, but it sure is beautiful. I snap back into the moment. Searchlight. Panic. Reality. Police. Jail. But the light is far. They’re on the wrong path. M catches up. We begin to walk back, fearing being lost in the woods on the run over being on the run in a familiar location. On our way back, we spot R walking through the field, confused. He joins us. M navigates us out using a trail app on her phone.

Unbeknownst to me or R at the time, there was no “trail app”. M felt fearful of admitting she was completely, entirely, hopelessly lost as well. We wandered down a trail, R and I following M like ducklings while she lead us blindly down the river of trails, choosing randomly at forks in the trail based purely on hope. All sense of direction had been lost.

I always hated anything “spiritual” or “mystical” before trying psychedelics. I now strongly believe and have experienced what I can only call blessings by the universe truly exist. If you truly need, you will receive. M navigated us, by pure chance, on a trail stretching over 100 miles, in complete darkness besides a phone flashlight, to the trail exit 3 streets away from B’s apartment.

Joy. Laughter. Excitement. Euphoria. The trip was saved. The threat had been avoided. I had made it, and so had my small tribe. Everyone else could do it too. I saw the sidewalk. Landmarks. Memories. I know where we are now. Everything is okay. We made it.

And then the police car drove past. At first I thought they didn’t even see us. They couldn’t possibly know WE were the teenagers on the hill. Then the sirens turned on. Then the fear returned. This time it was different. Shock. True denial of reality. Detachment. I was no longer me, talking to a cop on LSD. I was watching some poor kid get harassed while trying to enjoy himself on a night off.

I would try to explain how talking to the cop went in detail, but my memory around this part gets too confusing to properly recollect this story. She was about 25, but she looked younger. She was shorter than me, which made her less threatening. She asked, “Were you guys just on that hill over there?”, and R immediately responded “Yes”. She then began to question us.

The psychological mind games that cops play are intense. Let me tell you something. If a cop talks to you, for any reason, the purpose is to catch someone. You or someone else. Their job is to get as much information as possible so they can make a complete report on the crime. They are not judging you. They are not helping you. They are not your friends. They see you as a criminal, and they want to prove it. The second they do, your relationship is over. Do not give them information. Do not say anything. We did not do that.

She told us the fire department had responded to a call about a fire on PRIVATE PROPERTY, and a sheriff had come along as procedure. Upon arriving they heard music and smelled cannabis. They saw us up there. They saw us run. They found a piece of paraphernalia (half a grinder). I gave her a fake name. They gave her real ones. I eventually gave her my real name out of fear. Somehow, she let us go. I cannot do this part justice. R and I were trying to walk away while she was talking to us, arguing, lying, and were clearly under the influence. We did not cooperate with the majority of questions asked. Our pupils covered the majority of our eyes. She let us go.

On the walk back, the Fear began to set in. This is a different feeling than normal fear. Paranoia’s cousin. I would frequently feel my flight or fight response activate for no reason. I would become convinced the cops were going to arrest all of us. I was trembling uncontrollably. I needed to get to B’s apartment.

Everyone reconvened at the apartment. We were the last to arrive back. The second I walked in the room, L nearly shouted “Trip. Killers. NOW.” I had brought a bottle containing a mix of 50mg Trazodone pills and 25mg Mirtazapine pills, in case someone had a bad time. Thinking the pills were for him and suddenly not wanting the “fun” (high) to end, I try to calm him down. “No, dude. J needs them right now.” L said frantically.

While M, R, and I were off on our misadventure, L, A, and J were off on their own. L and A were scared, but J was much deeper in than them. L recounted to me later that J had been repeatedly, and frantically, checking his pockets every 5-10 steps while he was running, and was convinced his leg was hurt although it was completely fine. At one point, he checked his pockets so frantically he pushed his sweatpants down to his ankles with the downward force, and L and A had to assist him in putting them back on. They converged with B once they made it to the street. When they were nearing the apartment, J had suddenly collapsed into the grass and begun mumbling incoherent nonsense, only stopping to emit a soul-shattering scream of fear. He had to be carried back to the apartment.

Around 30 minutes after being given 100mg of Trazodone with much difficulty (I could hardly distinguish the large, round Trazodone pills from the small, oblong Mirtazapines), his panicked demeanor was replaced with a more calm one, seeming almost drunk with his movement. This whole time, B’s 13 year old brother had been home and saw everything. That is one of my biggest regrets of that night.

After that, all of our trips began to improve and returned to a more “normal” psychedelic experience. Nice visuals, deep thoughts being shared, a little bit of cannabis going around. I believe this experience brought one realization, and it was that I needed to grow up and begin to accept responsibility. Since that experience, I have used no other psychedelics (besides daily cannabis), and don’t plan to for the current foreseeable future. I got the message, it’s time for me to apply and spread it.

When I think about LSD or that night, I remember the good times. The connection. The Oneness. I do not think about law enforcement. They did not change me. They did not help me. They did not stop me. The current system of “justice” in America serves nobody except the people profiting off of the exploitation of the victims suffering through it. I truly believe law enforcement is here to strike fear in all of us, not to protect. There are better ways to protect than this.

Exp Year: 2023	ExpID: 117021
Gender: Male
Age at time of experience: 17
Published: Aug 21, 2025	Views: Not Supported
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Police / Customs (60), Cannabis (1), LSD (2) : Large Group (10+) (19), Relationships (44), Guides / Sitters (39), Nature / Outdoors (23), Glowing Experiences (4), Train Wrecks & Trip Disasters (7), Difficult Experiences (5), Combinations (3)