DOSE: T+ 0:00	14 g	oral	Mushrooms	(dried)
T+ 0:30		smoked	Cannabis

BODY WEIGHT:

150 lb

[Erowid Note: Driving while intoxicated, tripping, or extremely sleep deprived is dangerous and irresponsible because it endangers other people. Don't do it!]
A few years ago I split an ounce of mushrooms (28g) with one of my friends. At this point in time, it was a regular occurrence for me. My parents were still going through an active divorce, and long story short, there were a lot of things that had to remain hidden. Not exactly the best point in my life – as I was currently considering dropping out of college and killing myself. Looking back on it, I realized that I never ate anything this day besides the mushrooms. Being an individual who was grossly underweight at the time, I couldn’t afford to skip a meal because I was basically pre-diabetic at the time.

Having been my fourth time dosing up on half an ounce, I knew I was in for a ride – but I never expected things to turn out like this. Luckily, I had a good trip sitter, and a good friend to watch over me to make sure things didn’t turn disastrous (who ended up taking me home later that night upon request). Looking back on it, the setting was less than ideal, but at the time, it was the best that I could get aside from taking it at home and risking getting caught. The setting was a cabin out in the middle of nowhere – about a half-hour drive away from my house. It was winter, subzero temperatures, and the only source of heat was the wood stove. The cabin was far from being complete, and the interior walls were lined with visqueen, leaving the stud bays exposed to see the insulation between them. There were three floors to this cabin, and the stairwell wrapped around the chimney for the wood stove leading all the way to the ceiling nearly 30 feet above you. Mind you, there were no guardrails or anything of the sort along this staircase. If you fell, you’d best hope you didn’t fall on top of the piping-hot wood stove.

The night began with the acquisition of the goods, that we ate almost immediately. The majority of this bag was mainly mycelium dust and substrate with little to no caps. After splitting the bag, my buddy & I drove around on the lake for a little while (probably half an hour or so) as we waited for our trip sitter to get home. After getting lost on the lake among the countless ice roads, heads buzzing, and having no idea where we were at, we decided it was time to make the trek back to base.

By the time we had returned to the cabin (about ten minutes away) we both had completely lost our sense of reality. We ventured our way up the precarious staircase to the top floor (warmest place in the house), and we smoked some weed and played MX Vs. ATV. At this point, I have no perception of time – given we lived in an arctic environment and it being winter, time was irrelevant anyways unless you had somewhere to be.

Things were going fine until I started to hear two voices that were emanating from somewhere within the back of my skull. At first it was interesting. I wanted to hear what they had to say, because clearly these two entities were allowing me to eavesdrop on the conversation they were having about me. “A harmless indulgence” I told myself, as they manifested in the back of my mind whimsically at first. Eventually I concluded that these two entities that were talking about me were “God” and “The Devil” – both completely benign in their existence as imaginary entities that were simply a manifestation of my thoughts/inner dialogue. Upon this conclusion, their dialogue immediately became more interesting; and I changed my position from “eavesdropper” to “participant” as I turned my undivided attention to this philosophical debate these entities were having about the essence of my being. Completely severing whatever Earthly connections I had to the physical world before me and within myself, I became engrossed in this conversation to the point where it drew the attention of those around me (approximately three pairs of eyes). To this day I find it hard to determine whether they were interested or concerned. It was as if all the air in the room had come to a standstill.

For one of the first times in my life, every single person in the room became devoted to trying to understand what it is that I was indulging myself upon, or thinking about. They wanted to know, to understand, and discuss it with me. At first it was a wonderful feeling. I felt wanted, loved. Important.

But as I began to contemplate the purpose behind their interest, I came to the conclusion that the conversation that I had just made myself a part of, was one I was never meant to be a part of to begin with. I was simply slipping through the cracks as I always have – an anomaly yet to be understood. Very quickly, this inviting, warm feeling of my peers showing interest in my thoughts turned into something malevolent. They didn’t want to know what I was contemplating so that they could be a part of my thoughts – they wanted to know what I was thinking so they could catch me in the act of doing something heinous (such as listening to a conversation between god & the devil about yourself). Upon this realization, their whimsical dialogue like that of two close friends turned into something dark, and imperceptible. They could hear me. The curious gaze of my friends shifted into a judging glare (albeit their expressions did not change, only the way I chose to perceive them). Evidently, I must have done something in the physical plane that was perceptible to them – as they suddenly started showing more interest in “what I was thinking about”. I couldn’t bring myself to tell them. Paralyzed in what was now fear, I simply shook my head (mind you, I have been without words for about three hours at this point). They insisted that I told them. Even if I could’ve counted at the time, they still would have asked me more times than I was able to count. Insistent indeed.

The bare walls, lined with vapor barrier and insulation began to contort into faces. They laughed at me, glared at me with gazes that would have punched holes in my skin had they were real. Suddenly I was in a room filled with these ugly faces mocking me. Laughing at the meek nature of my flesh and fear.

After some unspecified amount of time passes, I start feeling a bit hot. At this point I have decided that I’ve had enough with this space and decide that I need to get some fresh air. For the first time in about four or five hours, I stood up as fast as I could & started making my way down the treacherous stairs. Consequently, I passed out about halfway down the steps. Luckily my friends were already up and following me down the steps and caught me. Saving me from tumbling down headfirst onto a piping hot wood stove. Given this is the first time something like this has happened to me, naturally, I freaked out. I no longer understood anything from the physical plane, let alone what my own body was trying to tell me. This is the point where I completely let go of everything that was tethering me to this plane, and I was shot out of my body. Now watching myself in third person view, unconsciously, the very first (and only) words that came out of my mouth in what was probably about five or six hours were the words “kill me”. My friends carried me down to the main floor and laid me down on the couch. I was in immeasurable pain. Whether it was real or not was irrelevant.

My conclusion was that all the suffering I was in was tied to my flesh. I did not care if it meant the end of me – I simply wanted the suffering to end. At the time, the only way out I saw was death. To be released. I begged them over and over to kill me. My friends were so confused, and all they could do was stand on the steps about ten feet away from me and whisper about what they should do. To me, they were trying to figure out how to get rid of me – as I now saw myself as nothing more than a burden & they had no reason to keep me around anymore. As I stripped myself naked sweating bullets, I rolled over into the couch and stuffed my face into the nook. The fire snaps. The cat meows. My friends whisper.

Watching myself in third person, I became blind to the passing of time. I watched my friends kill me, bury my body underneath the cabin, and the world carry on without me. The entire time I am still screaming “kill me”, begging my friends to set me free and release me from my suffering. The detectives found my body, returned it to my family, and I received a proper burial. Despite my body being dead and the world having gone on without me, I was still locked in. I begged every single individual I came across to kill me and let me free.

Given that I was stuck in a dead body at the time, it’s not like anybody ever heard me. I was stuck in a one-sided conversation no matter where they took me. The detectives jokingly asked questions to my body, the morticians spoke to me with gentle voices. It was like I was turned into a piece of furniture with a conscience – forced to watch the world go by without ever allowing any room to participate. I couldn’t stand it.

“Kill me, Kill me”

Every single event I was forced to endure was met with that same phrase. After a hundred years or so go by, I come to the conclusion that there is no use. I gave up my endeavor on trying to be freed, and became an observer from where my grave was placed. I watched cities crumble and erect themselves, paving roads over my tombstone and return to dust. Stuck inside my body, tethered to it, I lay there and watched humanity die off before my eyes. I watched all of the negativity I harbored in my soul leech out into the world around me and poison it. Causing conflict, and despair, breeding hatred amongst people. My friends and family argued over my death – some committed suicide. I watched my death change the course of my little brother’s life, and I saw the negativity I carried with me get spread out into the world around me because I wasn’t responsible enough to diffuse it before my passing. Witnessing such a thing was more violent and harmful than anything my meager flesh has experienced. The agony of watching the people I loved suffer over something I created was more than my heart could bear. It made me want to die more. I hated myself for choosing to be who I was so carelessly, and not having the power to change anything about it. I watched the Earth, and the universe succumb to entropy. The circularity of life and death blends into a barren landscape; presumably a desert, completely devoid of life and matter. The sun swallows up the Earth much like the scientists anticipated long after humanity has colonized other celestial bodies and died out. What is left of my body, just a few specks of bone – is atomized and returned to the universe.

Suddenly, I am free. But there is no one to see, nobody to share the experience with, nothing of human desire to indulge within. But alas, I am free from my flesh. My bones. Myself. Seeing that there is no purpose in anything, I begin to wander aimlessly. I visited nebulas, dying stars, other planets, the edge of the universe. Captivated by the silent beauty of it all, free from the limits of time and flesh, I wandered until there was nothing left, and the universe returned to it’s natural state of nothingness. I watched what we believe to be time wrap back around on itself, and thus a new universe was born before me. A big bang, a magnificent flash of light and life envelops me and begins constructing an entirely new universe nearly identical to the one I was previously a part of. I watched the sun give birth to itself, the chunks of matter condensing themselves into asteroids and begin forming planets. I am looking at what is presumably Earth, a premature celestial body; boiling hot in the center, surrounded by rings of matter. Pulling itself together. The asteroids give way to mountains and valleys, and the valleys fill up with water until the peaks cannot be seen, and the water wanes back to make way for trees, life, and eventually wrapping back around to life as we recognize it today.

As time wraps back around on itself, and I am reborn in the same flesh I once left behind, I return to the moment I left my body and began my journey. At this point, my friends were just waiting for me to come down so they could determine whether or not I was okay . The fire snaps. The cat meows. They whisper. As I come back around to myself, I stand up like a spring that has been bent out of shape. Quite literally with a pop. Buck ass naked, I began hurriedly putting my clothes on and putting on my boots to go outside (which I never made it to). Put my hand on the wood stove to balance myself as I was putting my boots on, and subsequently burned the hell out of myself. Felt nice for some reason.

At this point, I have convinced myself that I was on a path of “redemption”, and that in order to prevent the suffering I had just endured from happening again, and more importantly, to save myself from getting trapped in this universe, I concluded that I needed to make it home and go hug my Dad; and that if I did not make it home and hug my Dad before I came down, I will never return to what some may consider as “normal”, subsequently trapping myself in this universe of suffering. Evidently, this was not something I wanted, and thus I hopped up as soon as I regained control of my flesh to put my clothes on and make the journey home. Didn’t care if I had to walk and potentially freeze, because being stuck in this place was the equivalent to death. For some reason while I was out, stuffed in the corner of the sofa, I told my friends to call my Dad; as the only way to figure out how to resolve this situation was to bring him into the picture. For reference, this was the last thing I would’ve wanted to do, and if it came to it, would have to be a worst case scenario. This was indeed that moment. My soul was in jeopardy, and the only way I could think of saving it was to return to the halo of light that surrounded my Father; regardless of whatever repercussions might ensue such a decision.

As my friends talked to my Dad trying to figure out what to do, I finally found the words: “take me home”. To which my trip sitter replied “are you sure” – with him knowing my current situation, he also knew that if my Dad was brought into this situation, things were not going to be good. I had to tell him about four times before he finally obliged to my unreasonable request. At some point along the ride home, I asked my buddy to put my Dad on speaker so I could hear his voice. The very first words I hear come out of his mouth that night are “Do you have any orange juice?”. To those who know, for somebody in the middle of perhaps the most horrifying bad trip ever, such a sentence filled me with despair. As orange juice would’ve done anything except help my current situation. What this meant to me was that the journey was far from over; and perhaps I made the wrong decision. I had no choice but to commit to the decision I made not even knowing whether it was going to grant me salvation from myself (we were also almost back to my house and I wasn’t about to make my buddy submit himself to any more than what I’ve already forced him to endure). Eventually, after what felt like eons, we finally made it back to my house. Never even spoke to my Dad or gave him a hug, I simply went straight up to my room, and got some of the best sleep I’ve ever had on my freshly washed sheets.

What I have gathered from this experience is that I have always been the source of my greatest suffering. Although I may not entirely have control over the forces that may act upon me, my choice in perception and reaction is what holds me liable for the ways I choose to make myself suffer. The negativity you harbor in your soul affects others around you whether you allow it to or not. Unfortunately, I had to learn this firsthand – something that would have likely been outside my realm of perception had I not seen it for myself. But because of this, I have always tried my absolute best to make decisions that remain true to myself across all realms of positivity. Obviously, nothing is perfect & we all have our moments (such as this night I’ll never forget), but there is nothing stopping you from making an objectively good decision.

Not only did I live out my worst fear of having lost my grip on reality, but I also survived; and came back with more insight and purpose than I ever had before. With this, I say there is no use in fearing the unknown or that which we cannot understand; I believe the things we should fear are the things we hold so closely to us that we cannot recognize the difference between ourselves and “it”.

Exp Year: 2020	ExpID: 117748
Gender: Male
Age at time of experience: 20
Published: Oct 9, 2024	Views: 14
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