Citation: Mindtraveller. "Reverb and Desire: An Experience with Mushrooms (exp39282)". Erowid.org. Dec 19, 2005. erowid.org/exp/39282
I decided to send this experience report into Erowid because I believe others can truly benefit from the experience and advice described within. So, with no further ado, enjoy!
Out of any entheogen I have ever tried, psiloscin/psilocybin mushrooms have remained my favorite ever since my first experience with them. In my entire life, (also over this past year) I have orally ingested mushrooms 5 times, amounting to 3/8ths of an ounce. The first four times I tripped, I had 1/16th of an ounce each time. The fifth and last, however, was a full 1/8th of an ounce.
It was a Sunday evening, about 6:00 P.M., and I was very bored, sitting at my computer and exchanging instant messages with my friends. At some point, my friend Jake sent me a message asking me if I wanted to buy some mushrooms off of him. Jake is known for being a) loaded, b) generous, and c) incredibly well connected to many local sources of many different kinds of drugs. Thus, he was willing to sell me an eighth of the ounce he had just bought for a mere 35 dollars. Aside from a generosity, the large amount of drugs in my upper-middle class suburban town somewhat diminishes the price of any drug around here.
Anyhow, I told my dad I was going out for a quick walk, which I did actually do. I just happened to also be meeting my neighbor Jake along the way and picking up psychotropic mushrooms from him. When I got home, about 30 minutes later, I pulled the mushrooms from my pocket and looked at them. Trustworthy Jake had yet again pleased me greatly. I had in my possession a 'large' eighth, moderately crushed inside the sandwich bag. There were several moderately large caps in the bag, and with satisfaction I put them in my stash box.
Over the next several hours, a small desire to trip grew. I kept telling myself I shouldn't take mushrooms on a Sunday night by myself in my room, seeing as I would be practically dead in school the next day, not to mention the fact that being alone on mushrooms can be a very bad idea for some. I also thought it might be bad to take the mushrooms because my girlfriend was decidedly anti-drug at the time, and me taking any drugs could greatly upset her and send her into a deep fit of depression and self-abuse that used to be part of her everyday life.
At about 9:30, however, my desire to trip grew large enough to eclipse my good judgement. I promised myself I would take a full eighth of an ounce at 10:30, and I made all the necessary preparations. I dressed in very comfortable clothing, in layers so I could take off some clothing as my body heat rose (as it tends to do while tripping). I also got some vitamin C lozenges, orange juice, and water to help get the mushrooms down.
By 10:35, my parents were asleep, and I took the mushrooms. I poured the entire contents of the bag into my mouth and chewed. I have found that chewing mushrooms before 10 minutes before swallowing made my trip much more intense and profound, with pronounced visuals. I also ate with them the vitamin c lozenges and drank a glass of orange juice. I experienced almost nonexistent nausea, which only lasted for a few minutes. I then put on some John Coltraine, turned on all my colored lights, and turned off my regular lights. After this favorite setting of mine was prepared, I lay down on my bed and waited for the mushrooms to take effect.
It is at this point that the mindset responsible for the characteristics of my trip was created. As I relaxed and did nothing, before the effects were felt, I thought it might have been a bad idea to take the mushrooms, that I should have just taken some Benadryl to get to bed early. At the same time, a large part of m mind was excited. This part tried to push the other part out of my head, but with each effort to forget about my concerns and anxieties, the doubt grew in my head.
In order to relieve my anxiety and get myself pumped for the trip, I called my friend Nick. He and I have taken mushrooms together before, as we have with many other drugs. Nick and I essentially have a connection and chemistry that makes us feel so comfortable around each other. I went to Nick's phone number on my cell phone's speed dial and I called him up. Nick thought it was incredibly brave that I had taken such a large dose, and I agreed with him. He eventually decided that because I was going to be tripping, he should get his 2 grams of mushrooms and take them as well, alone, in his room, while talking with me on the phone.
Over this period of time, I could feel the mushrooms taking effect. Colors appeared very bright, and my depth perception was somewhat skewed. Time also began to slow down a little bit. I also looked at pictures and posters on my wall, and they seemed to be rippling on the surface of water. My sentences became less coherent as my conversation with Nick progressed, and I became giddy with excitement to the point where I couldn't help but giggle as I spoke to him about how tonight was going to rock, and all things regarding drugs, etc.
At around 11:00, my visual perception was considerably distorted, and I was feeling incredibly euphoric. Looking at different sections of my wall, they had the appearance that they were falling off and floating into black, empty space. These were the most intense experiences I had on mushrooms up to that moment, and I hadn't even peaked yet.
At this point, I heard my mother open the door of my parents' bedroom, which is adjacent to mine. She opened the door, and in an annoyed voice she said, 'Andy, go to bed.'
Nervously, I told nick that I had to go and I closed my phone very slowly. Could my mom have heard what I was saying and known that I had taken mushrooms? Was she going to then sit me down after school tomorrow? This must be the explanation for why she was so annoyed, because she seemed considerably more upset than she usually did when I was on the phone too late. My mind began to race and for a short eternity I was so completely confused and anxious. I knew what to do! I could text message Nick, and ask him if I had been talking too loudly. I was sure he would reassure me, and I could continue on with what had started as a good trip.
I text messaged Nick with the words 'Was I talking too loudly?' I waited for what seemed like hours for a reply, but soon enough (after only several minutes had passed, according to my clock) my phone made a soft, muted sound as the text message was received. I opened up my phone, and I directed myself to where I could read the message. It was one word:
I stared at the phone for what seemed like forever. She heard me. I knew it. I was done for. I was busted.
The increasing negativity of my experience seemed to flow through me like a horrible current, electrifying my body with more strength each second. Frantically, I tried sending Nick another message. I could barely get to the place where I could compose a message. I tried in vain to say something to Nick, but I failed. All the while, every time I pressed a button on my phone, a faint beep was emitted from the speakers. This became the phone's voice, and it began to speak to me in its language of beeps. My phone was very disappointed, and it was almost mocking me. 'doot doot doot doot doot doot,' it said, jabbing its finger at me. 'You know you shouldn't have taken mushrooms, you silly boy!' The phone reminded me of some little child who didn't understand the world, and was simply parroting what it had heard from the media, its parents, etc regarding drugs. I connected this with my mother, who I often think of in the same way when it comes to drugs.
I couldn't take the phone's scolding any longer. I shut it, and put it on my bedside table. I tried to relax, but I could only think about what I had done wrong. By now I had no idea of why my trip had gone so horribly wrong—I had totally forgotten about the run-in with my mother.
I looked around my room, and it seemed completely alien, unfamiliar, and discomforting. My guitar had become a sickening creature, and my Black Sabbath poster stared malevolently at me from its position on my wall. Most of the walls were falling away, breaking physical bonds and reforming them at every moment. This time I was sure the physical world was falling apart, as was my life now. I thought I was going to suffer a fate worse than death, and at some points I wanted to kill myself.
At some point during this I had gotten up and changed my music to Pink Floyd - Animals. This did not help my state I became continuously more depressed, and my experience became continuously more horrific. Minutes seemed to pass like hours, and every second I wanted the trip to just end so I could get to sleep. Several times I left my bed and got out of my room to use the bathroom. Each time, the banister posts on my stairs looked like wooden snakes standing on end, squirming and writhing violently to keep themselves vertical. The colors in this scene were so vibrant that I could not help but be amazed. I also had the sensation that the floor under my feet was rippling and shaking violently, and I had to keep stretching my legs and jumping to maintain my footing on the uneven, constantly changing terrain.
I took a piss and flushed the toilet, after which I decided to take a look in the mirror. My face was fluid, and it seemed to drip into the sink below. I touched it, and it felt like a viscous, oily substance that could get very messy. My long hair danced around my neck, slipping and sliding all over my head. Colors also seemed to dance around my body. These must have been the symbolization that I was on mushrooms and not any other object or person I was in contact with.
Upon the return to my room, the anxiety continued to build. I tried putting on different music--didn't help. I had no idea what to do, but I knew I wanted it all to stop, to end, to just fade away. There was no solution though, except to crawl into my mom's arms, crying, pleading for forgiveness and asking the heavens why I took mushrooms. I almost got up to do this when my racing mind came to a halt.
Even though it felt like days had passed, I was sure it wasn't too late to call Jake, seeing as he is often up very late. I looked at my clock, and the twisted, almost unrecognizable numbers said the time was 11:40. I knew I could call Jake. I searched for my cell phone, but it was nowhere to be found. Again the fear grew within me, but I soon realized what became my savior that night: things make sense. I realized that on some basic level, things make sense. Thus I knew how to find my phone. I located the charger cable and followed it to the power socket, from where I followed it back to its end, in my bed. There was no phone on the end of it, but I knew this must mean that it was on my bedside table. How I knew this, I cannot explain. I just knew it.
I called Jake, and he picked up, sounding tired. 'Duuuuude,' I said, in a long, moaning drawl. 'I ate all those mushrooms, maaaan. The full eighth.' I could barely put these sentences together, but somehow I managed to.
'All of them?' he asked.
'Yeah, man. I don't feel too good'
'Oh shit, oh no.'
'I ingested at 10:35'
'Well, all I can tell you is that you'll be going really strong till about 1 in the morning, at which point you can probably fall asleep. For now, just put on some Grateful Dead, and just relax. Go with the trip. Don't try to deny what's happening to you.'
'Thanks man. Talk to you later.'
I hung up the phone, and lay in my bed. I didn't have any Grateful Dead, so instead I put on some Tarbox Ramblers, a really great folk rock group. However, the music made me want to kill myself again, and I couldn't take it. Anything I played was horrible, and certainly not the Grateful Dead, so I turned all my music off. I turned all my lights off. I turned my computer off. In doing this, I seemed to turn the bad trip off. I turned the world off.
I walked slowly back to my bed, and slipped under the covers. Soon, the physical world began to melt, and a feeling of amazing calamity overcame me. In the blackened room, my mind began to synthesize images and scenes, and soon enough I was no longer in my room.
I was in a black void, an absence of existence. The miniscule, unimportant thing known as existence stretched in a two dimensional ribbon along this continuum. Like a strip of film, it had frames, but each frame was a different time and place in the universe, and each was a portal to that time and place. It was then that I realized hat existence didn't exist, and my mind screamed. I pulled a giant sword from nowhere and sliced the ribbon in two. It split, and in a cartoon-like manner, it began to writhe and die.
After an eternity in a world free of existence, I returned to my room, still tripping hard. Every sight, every sound, every tick of a clock, every breath, and everything in the room had some kid of bizarre reverb attached to it. Reverb…and desire. I knew this was the secret to life. Reverb and desire! Oh my god! It was amazing. I repeated it over to myself once, twice, a million times. I called Nick, who was also tripping on mushrooms. 'Reverb and desire!' I blurted. 'Don't you get it? Reverb and desire!'
'Reverb and desire. Like at the end of that Sublime song, Garden Grove. It's the reverb and desire man!'
'Did you take mushrooms?'
'Yes! So did you. But don't you feel it man, reverb and desire!'
I continued to repeat this phrase until I decided to hang up the phone. I lay in bed, purely ecstatic about the discovery I had made. As I lay motionless, I continued to let my brain synthesize my surroundings. I was in space, in a sea, and anywhere I wanted to be. However, these settings were less realistic than the amazing experience slashing the ribbon of existence. All the while during these experiences, I knew I was still in my room and simply on drugs (pardon the cliché).
For what I believe was the third and final time that night, I got up to use the bathroom. Again, the posts looked bizarre and the ground rippled, but as I was coming down off the trip, everything was more normal. However, every second I walked, every step I took, I heard voice behind me: my mother, my father, and at times the entire world. They seemed to whisper unintelligibly until I turned around, and all I would see was an empty hallway. As I entered the bathroom, I heard my mother's voice clearly behind me. Andy, what are you doing? In paranoid fear, I shook, and I turned around. Nothing.
I closed the door, took a piss, and looked in the mirror again. Lights danced around my face and above my head, and my hair was sleeping now, breathing slowly and deeply. I smiled.
I walked calmly back to my room, and dropped onto my bed. I took a look at my clock. 4:05 it read. I was still tripping, and I had a hard time getting to sleep. However, at some point I may have caught some winks. Even so, it could have simply been the dreamlike trance of the trip. In any case, at 6:45, while I was still tripping very lightly, my mother aroused me from my bedroom.
I showered, dressed, and grabbed a granola bar. I headed out to school, and into my history class. I related pieces of my experience to my classmate Ken, and he thought it was some of the craziest stuff he had ever heard. When given a dirty look by the teacher, I turned to the paper on my desk. The black letters seemed to float in a sea of white, which made me smile. These were the last recognizable effects of the trip, and in these last moments of psychedelic revelation, I wrote a short poem on my paper:
Existence doesn't exist
Cut the world with fire
The answer to your question
Is reverb and desire
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