Citation: Leovinus. "A Mind-Fuck for the Ages: An Experience with LSD & Cannabis (exp71918)". Erowid.org. Jan 2, 2013. erowid.org/exp/71918
A quick question for all you readers. What do predestination, time travel, the afterlife, Larry David, Afroman, and the fundamental secret of reality all have in common? They were all part of the most ridiculous mindfuck I have ever experienced - and this was all after taking a mere 2 hits of LSD. Now, what I took may not have been LSD - one of the my friends told me the following day that it may have been PCP, and given that I had done acid once before, with no similar effects, he may have been right. So first, let me begin with a brief wrap-up of my first experience with LSD.
It was October of last year, and I took 6 hits...what can I say, I'm an adventurous kind of guy. It was fun - I felt great, and everything was rippling. That's about it. I enjoyed it an awful lot, so I decided that I would have to try it again some time in the near future. I dosed for the second time was March of this year. It was spring break, and I went down to Austin, TX to visit some of my friends from high school. My intention was to get extremely baked, and I decided that if I could find some acid, I would try that as well.
I started off the day by smoking a few bowls of some KB (I think it was Snow Caps) out of a Volcano. Good times. I later went over to the house of a friend I hadn't seen in a while, and I told him I was looking for some Lucy. He scored me 5 hits. While at his place, we proceeded to smoke some more bud. A lot more. We ripped a bowl of AK-47 out of a Roor, split a massive joint (I'm not sure how much was in it, but I'd say at least a gram), and took several hits out of a vaporizer - not a Volcano, but effective nonetheless. After the toke-fest had ended, I took 2 of the 5 hits he had gotten for me. They were in Sweettarts. Quite a tasty way to do it, if you ask me. He and his housemates had also just made some brownies out of 2 oz. of chronic. I’d never eaten weed before, so it wasn’t like I could pass it up. I ate one of the brownies and prepared myself for a fun time.
We sat there and watched a little bit of ‘Harry Potter and the Sorceror’s Stone’, a fairly good acid movie. As I was coming up, I noticed that the colors were enhanced. That was about it. After watching a little bit of the movie, I went outside to have a cigarette. My friend P was talking about how when you’re on acid, it feels like all your senses are merging into one. I’m not sure if I had heard that before. The first time I did acid, I didn’t feel any kind of synaesthesia. But as I sat outside smoking my cigarette, I started to realize what he was talking about.
Multi-sensory synthesis is pretty hard to describe, but basically, I started to feel like I was no longer an entity that saw, touched, tasted, smelled, and heard things. I was an entity that just was. I was purely existing, nothing more. I lost all awareness of any underlying mental processes, any sense of self, anything that could be broken down or examined. It was about this point that I understood everything, and I mean everything. Well...sort of. It made perfect sense at the time, but now, it just seems stupid. Basically I realized that the most fundamental philosophical truth of reality is the identity statement, i.e. that things are equal to themselves. This may have been brought about by the synaesthesia. My sensory experience was indivisible, and so I was overwhelmed by tremendous feeling of universal equivalence. At this point, I was completely freaking the fuck out. I called up a friend to tell him about my profound moment of enlightenment, but I only got his voicemail, so I proceeded to leave a babbling, incoherent rant that lasted so long I was interrupted by a message telling me I had used up all of my allotted time. What I said was something along the lines of “We are the one...we are the multisensory transconceptual multispatial one that is realized as the one that is now and was then and always will be. We are the one. We are the one. Mulisensory fusion...multisensory fusion... We are the one... we are the one that is now that was then that will be then that will be...”
Despite the fact I was tripping my balls off, I decided that playing some Guitar Hero was in order. My friend drove me over to his friend’s apartment, where GH was plentiful. I was totally stoked at showing everyone how good I was despite that I was out of my fucking mind. I don’t like to toot my own horn (on second thought, maybe I do) but I am fucking ridiculous at GH. Playing it while inebriated has never been a problem for me, but this time, it was. I sat there dumbfounded and watched as the notes went by and my rock meter quickly went from green to red to FAILURE.
And here’s where the shit hit the fan.
If I’m remembering this right, P turned to me and said “you’re dead.” His friends gave me a mock round of applause. A sober person would easily have known what he meant from the context: “you’re dead” meant that I had failed the song. But since I head full of acid and a bloodstream stuffed to the gills with THC, I took what he meant literally.
I thought that I was dead, and he was some sort of god, and all his friends were gods, and they were applauding because I had finally left my body and returned to the land of my people. I imagined myself as combination of Pan and Kratos from the God of War games. I screamed, “FUCK JESUS!!! FUCK MOSES!!! FUCK MUHAMMAD!!!“ I was anxious to find out which god I was. “WAS I JESUS??!! WAS I JESUS??!!“ I yelled. I know that doesn’t make any sense, seeing as how I had just said “FUCK JESUS!!!“ but...whatever.
This may not be all to the story - the details are hazy, but I’m pretty sure I changed my mind about the state of affairs a couple of times. I may have thought simultaneously I was a mere mortal who had been plucked from all of humanity because the gods admired me for my sense of humor, my outlook on life, and my contempt for religion in all its forms. That was what it appeared to be at first, but later on I jumped to the logical conclusion that at some point far into the future, a person had attempted time travel and accidentally destroyed the timeline, meaning that many years from now all of humanity will be sucked into a rift in the fabric of space-time. My friend and his friends were now benevolent time travelers who had plucked me from the masses because they liked my sense of humor.
So, after I realized I was dead, and the guy’s apartment was heaven’s waiting room of sorts, I was ready to get down to business: doing tons of drugs and having sex with whoever I wanted. You might be thinking that this is the point where I started sexually assaulting people left and right. Fortunately, you would be wrong, although I turned into quite the asshole, shouting “C’MON! WHO WANTS TO JUMP ON MY DICK??!! WHO’S FIRST??!! WHO’S FIRST??!! WHO WANTS TO JUMP ON MY DICK!!??” at the top of my lungs. P tried to calm me down, but it was no use. I didn’t see the point in calming down - I was in heaven, and there were no longer any social norms. Which is why I punched P’s friend. That’s what I was told, but I distinctly remember whacking the guy on the back with a GH controller.
Eventually, I got to be too much for P to handle, so he dropped me off at my other friend’s house, where I was staying for the week. I felt like I was trapped in a loop, although it was a good kind of loop, the kind where you feel great the whole while and there’s never any comedown. I also made a pass at my other friend’s girlfriend since I thought she was one of my sex slaves. Fortunately, he was there to keep me from doing anything stupid.
For a lot of this time, I was babbling incomprehensibly. I think the synaesthesia was responsible for this - my babblings felt like a verbal instantiation of the flow of time, something that would normally be processed by a specific part of my brain, but now, it all coming out my mouth. As the hours wore on, my conception of the heaven I was inhabiting changed further and further. This is where predestination came in. I thought that I was one of the people who got saved. I associated those who got saved and those who didn’t with Democrats and Republicans, which reminded me of Larry David, an outspoken Democrat, for some reason. I thought I was allowed into heaven because I was the only human who had guessed it right; I had correctly predicted that heaven would need to look just like the real world and obey the same laws of physics, with the endless sex, drugs, and other hedonistic delights being the only things that separated it from the real world. Of course, I had predicted no such thing before hand. I also perceived my surroundings as a sauna, where I would sit with the guys from Afroman and pass the bong waiting for hot bitches to walk in and fuck us. Of course, all of this had to be permissible within the laws of physics. While all these thoughts were running through my mind, I continued to say a bunch of random shit like “FOR THAT KINDA LOGIC I COULDA SLAPPED A BROWN BITCH ON THE DINK” (I meant “dick,” but I said “dink,” although I think I also said “dick.” By the time the trip was over, I was convinced that I was God, I was black, and that my entire life had been a trick I played on myself that I could only escape from by reciting a specific alphanumeric sequence. The code got simpler and simpler as I came down from the trip, alternating between the words “I am tha muthafuckin God” and single numbers or letters. By the time the trip was over, I think the code was 3. The trip came to an abrupt halt only because my friends forced Xanax down my throat.
Looking back at what I’ve written, I can see that a lot of it doesn’t make any sense. That’s because the trip didn’t make any sense. The truth is that I’ve only scratched the tip of the iceberg here. I could write much more, but this since this has already turned into a TL;DR report, I won’t. I don’t know if what I took was acid - the symptoms don’t match up, in my opinion - but I don’t seem to react to drugs in general the way that most people do. If what I took was acid, though, then those 6 hits I took last October must have been some unbelievably weak shit. The only thing that changed since October was that I had started taking .25 mg of haloperidol a day to manage my Tourette’s symptoms. Note the decimal in front of the 25. It’s a very small dose, and from what I’ve read, it isn’t supposed to exacerbate an LSD trip. If anything, it’s supposed to reduce the effects. I think it’s also worth noting that the entire time, I didn’t have any open or closed eye visuals. There weren’t even any ripples.
Overall, I definitely wouldn’t want to repeat the experience. Several of my friends were rightfully pissed off by my behavior. Fortunately, there was no lasting damage. I didn’t wind up at the hospital, and I didn’t lose any friends in the process. In fact, I was back to my regular old self the next day.
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