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Accepting Death and Utter Ecstasy
Citation:   WhoAreYou. "Accepting Death and Utter Ecstasy: An Experience with Mescaline (exp88982)". Nov 23, 2012.

  oral Mescaline (capsule)
We were playing Geometry Wars. Took a capsule filled with Mescaline at 2:21 pm, having just driven down to Richmond with B. If I had any idea what I’d be going through in about an hour I’d be far more apprehensive and far less excited.

Bit of my back story: I’m a skinny guy ‘bout 5’9” and 135 lbs. Considering I fasted for the day before this experience, that’s probably part of why it hit me so hard. My tripping experience is limited. I’ve tried Mushrooms recently (a teenth plus a bit) and savored every moment. Also, I was not religious before this experience. I’m also a 19 year college student.

While waiting I smoked some very good marijuana. Nearly instantly I started to notice distortion and god knows what time. At this point I ask B to turn off the xbox and music. Geometry Wars had been a terrible choice as the game naturally has distortion to some degree. Also, we had been listening to Infected Mushroom. This added to the feeling of distortion. After the music had been shut off I was able to embrace the trip a bit more naturally. While coming up, I developed a bit of nausea which I knew was normal, but I decided to ask for a bucket just in case. A few minutes later I walked over to the bathroom and this was where my mind decided to separate from reality. From this point on I’m reflecting what I honestly believe I went through.
Gazing into the toilet trying to force myself to retch, I remember seeing my reflection in the water looking at me with fear in its eyes. The world behind me was dark and scary. Despite my efforts I couldn’t purge this from me. I turned to the mirror for a few minutes before I managed to vacate the bathroom and forced myself to smile. I felt a bit better.

I came back to the couch that I had been sitting on and grabbed my guitar, and attempted to play a little. My efforts were disappointing and everything just felt out of tune. (I had tuned the guitar right before tripping; sadly my ears while tripping found my playing distasteful.) B began to ask me if I wanted Chipotle, and I replied that “there was no way in hell I’d be able to handle that.” A few minutes later (I guess) he headed to Chipotle, leaving me in a rather comfy room with just my mind.

The next few hours I spent in a cycle. In my mind it lasted what felt like days. I would gain awareness sitting on the same couch where I sit writing this memoir. Every time I would immediately turn to B and say “I wake up on this couch every time.” As my insanity grew I would add phrases including, “there’s no escape is there?” and “How long have I been dead, what happened?” The first phrase was the most important because every time the immediate response I received was “Yep, always this couch.”
Anyways, I woke up and said “I wake up on this couch every time.”

“Yep, always this couch.”

After this exchange he left towards the kitchen and comes in with Chipotle. I tell him no thank you. Trapped in my thoughts I lay on the couch and everything B does feels like a projection of what my mind is thinking. As he walks across the room when I worry he seems worried about something and tries to fix various aspects of the room. When I’m content, he’s happy as well. I suddenly start to feel very cold and feel almost the life drain out of me.

I bundle up and look around the room and suddenly I feel as if I’m in the middle of a Van Gogh painting. Everything is somehow two dimensional and three dimensional at the same time. Suddenly this shifts and I am the room, or that’s the best way to describe it. I literally feel as if the walls were my bones and my skin were the walls, and I look down upon myself laying on the couch at the same time and wonder how this was possible. I try to move and myself moves. I begin to feel as if I’m walking through my mind and this room is simply a metaphor for this. Testing this, I run to the front door and look outside. As far as I remember, that was not the same street that is currently outside this house. When I see B I begin to question him as if he is a figment of my imagination. “So you’re what my brain has conjured to explain how all of this is possible?” or “Do you have any idea how alone I feel in here?”

I was truly talking to myself for all extents and purposes. B, also tripping, was able to manage a “dude” or “epic.” My delusion was unable to recreate B in full was what I realized. I was very cold and closed my eyes and tried to bundle up and wake up to get warm. B had just offered me Chipotle at some point. I never question how he got in or if he had left, I never noticed. As I laid there I began to experience a fully out of body experience where I felt every bit of my body, first the bones, then the muscle, then skin recreate itself, the feeling felt as if I was now the room again, but this time the room represented my body. I had regained feeling who I really was. I wasn’t the man trapped in this room; I was the body that had become the room.

When I say body, I mean I truly believe I had died. My mind inhabited it still but I couldn’t regain control. I could feel the muscles still somewhat warm but fading. My consciousness tried to follow the warmth and was able to reach through this and I began to feel a hum as I was nearing a great source of heat. I felt a hum and saw my body connected to thousands of threads and began to be engulfed by them as I touched the warmth with my mind. It was all encompassing and simply put was the mental equivalent to an orgasm. (No, luckily, I did not ruin any pants on this journey.) As I neared full enclosure within the warmth the hum I felt became maddening and I had to turn away. As this happened, I regained consciousness and turned to B saying “I wake up on this couch every time.”

As this repeated over and over again I began to panic more and more. This had become my world. I believe I had passed away and I was in my body unable to ever take control of it. My mind was trapped there, within my body until I accepted the overriding ecstasy and didn’t turn away. Yet whenever I did that, I was utterly sure that I would lose any free thought. I would lose this new-found ability to create a world to house my mind and would become part of the underlying bands that connect every living being in the universe. My mind adapted to the cycle and began to cut it shorter and shorter. I’d stop trying to talk with B past a sentence or so when he’d turn to me and say “You’ve accepted it?” or maybe I just thought this. Frankly I have no idea. Each time the cycle would end with me closer to eternal ecstasy and utter madness. Eventually I see B as the devil and feel a great sense of wrongness as I try to join with nature and succumb to the madness. If I ever try to delay my stay in “the room” I suddenly feel cold until I am forced to retreat back to warmth, where I immediately succumb until I finally turn away.

Eventually, after what I believe was hundreds of times through this cycle, I was at peace with my death, I decided to enjoy this room and the freedom of thought that it represented and at this point I was able to stay warm without succumbing to the global warmth. Lying there, I asked the projection of B to turn on Planet Earth, then to test my insanity asked him to turn on the one episode I hadn’t seen. I saw mountains of impossible heights, animals that couldn’t exist, and the narrator’s voice was deep and English, but with my slight stutter. I was the architect of my own world. At one point I entered it and played the part of a combination between a Polar Bear and a Seal. Enjoying my world I began to test its boundaries and went back to myself on the couch. I at this point was testing the madness. In the next minutes it came crashing down. I felt an intense loneliness. I intensely missed those that I loved.

Out of desperate loneliness I ran upstairs to B’s roommate’s room and opened the door. I told B and his roommate the madness I was going through and despite the fact that they were surely projections of my mind I explained the fear and the loneliness and how sure I was dead. They both argued they were real. Yet they both had the same stutter I do. They both apologized insistently, like I always do. They both had my mannerisms, just masked by their voices. They both carried out the same agenda. My mind clinging on to the last people it had seen before I had passed away.

In my panic I challenged the madness one last time. I called my father and told him everything. The fear, how sure I was dead, how sure the man I was talking to on the phone was a figment of my own imagination. Yet somehow the man on the phone did not seem like a shadow of himself. He was my dad. There was genuine fear and worry in his voice. He didn’t try to just tell me it was ending in twelve hours. As I talked to him I literally felt the life come back into me as I accepted whatever world I was in was reality. At some point I had escaped the cycle.

It is 3:12 in the morning and I have just finished my memoirs from this experience. I have accepted this reality fully and my dad has joined B and me at this house. He took us out to dinner and talked to me. That was what I needed. My dad is sleeping upstairs as I write while hanging out with B. My vision is still mildly distorted (these damn words keep moving around very slowly) and I have some strange twinges in my body, but besides that I appear to be fine. I now have an intense feeling that god is real and that rather than a specific being he is merely the hum, the glorious burning vibration that connects every living creature in this galaxy. If I had to sum up my newfangled religious beliefs in one sentence that last one will have to do.

P.S. After talking to B, he had in fact gone to Chipotle at some point, meaning I was alone at some point. I never remember being alone. Also, he had turned on “Planet Earth” when I asked him to, but he most definitely did not see the same thing I did.

P.P.S. Thanks for reading. Please, if you follow in my footsteps, never embrace the all encompassing light completely. I worry that if I had, I would have made it back.

P.P.P.S. Sorry about the lack of an edit. It should be mostly there but I am not in a wonderful state of mind for editing at the moment.

Exp Year: 2010ExpID: 88982
Gender: Male 
Age at time of experience: 19
Published: Nov 23, 2012Views: 22,661
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Mescaline (36) : General (1), Small Group (2-9) (17)

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