So the main reason I'm posting this is really to ask a question, which I'll ask after the following passage.
So here's a bit of a prologue:
Very quickly after first trying weed, my life became largely drug-oriented.
I have never taken anything trippy "recreationally", with the exception of my first time. Every time I end up doing any form of hallucinogen it always seems to end up as a generally introspective experience. Upon taking LSD for the second time at 15 in a comfortable environment, I became very interested in your cliche "deep-thinker" acid topics, ie. shit like fractals, life and death and the nature of everything. This got me very interested in psychedelics. I had developed a yearning to know the secrets of the universe.
So in just under a year, a gram of DMT and about a meter of san pedro later I found myself in a peaceful country abode by a river, along with 3 good friends (at the time) and a drawer full of drugs. We had a quarter of weed, two blotters, a few doses of DMT, and two very strange looking baggies of dried mushroom. We had been sharing the weed all day, and were all very stoned. The squares were for two of my friends I will refer to as TG and Bart, who would be taking one each. Bob was the third man. He would not be tripping that night. The remaining candy was all for me.
The mushrooms were very peculiar looking, and the person who I got them off seemed very interested on how they went later. They had been sold to me as 2 doses, for $30 bucks a pop. This is very expensive in my area, especially considering he gave me a free dose less than a month prior. The mushrooms were very short, perhaps 3 inches long each at most, and dried to the extent of being reminiscent to NASA food. Each bag resembled a quarter of weed in volume. I did not weigh them however.
I decided to brew some mushroom tea. I simply emptied the contents of each bag into a mug, added hot water, stirred then drank. I did this twice, then ate the remaining mushroom flesh. By this point TG and Bart had well and truely dunked their squares. The four of us went outside to sit around the camp fire and smoke cigarettes and bongs. The stars out in the country were beautiful, and we had an amplifier set up with an iPod playing a playlist we had preset, so we didn't need bother with messing around with music. 20 minutes had passed and a was leaning back on my chair, completely disengaged from the conversation, observing the stars which were beginning to form kaleidoscope patterns. Within 10 minutes I had decided to proceed in smoking 2 consecutive cones of DMT infused leafed.
I was now sitting in a bedroom. I must have spilt half of the DMT I had trying to pack the cone piece. Bart held the bong to my mouth and lit the cones, as I was incapable of doing so at this point. Bob and TG were observing. Remarkably, I had managed to smoke both cones and stumble back outside. I let myself drop in front of the speakers. The next part of the trip is missing from my recollection.
Somehow I had taken a seat in one of the chairs. I must have looked completely gone. TG was trying to hold a cigarette to my mouth, similar to how you would to someone dying in some hollywood flick. Cluelessly, I began to eat the lit cigarette out of his hand. For the next half an hour (I can only guess it was half an hour) I was yelling legible yet completely random or irrelevent words. "Tazos", "Egyptians", the names of my parents are a few examples. My friends told me to follow them to the lake. They were saying the sand was glow-in the dark (due to the phosphor). Very quickly I became irrationally convinced they were plotting to drown me. I picked up an axe we had been using to chop wood, and began swinging it aggressively. At this point my friends abandoned me and went inside. I did not see them again and I do not blaim them. This is now around 1 and a half hours after injestion, a little more than one hour after the effects were first felt. I sat on the ground in between the fire and amplifier, despite the available seats.
I "awoke" the next day to the birds calling in the early morning. I was covered in puke, piss and ash, and was not wearing any lower body clothing. The previous 7 hours were completely missing from my recollection, and would remain that way until later. I smoked a cone of DMT which had absolutely no effect.
Around 3 months later, I decided to double dunk some blotter alone, in my room. It was the end of the school holidays and I felt unfulfilled about my break. I will not focus on this trip, only the flashbacks it brought.
Around 2 hours into the trip I hear my brother arrive home. At this point I prefered not to be disturbed by someone sober, so I simply shut all the lights off and layed in bed. I flicked on my ipod and put my earbuds in, then started browsing for good songs to trip to. I then stumbled across on an old playlist. The songs I played immediately opened the flood gates to the most powerful experience you could imagine. Each element of my mushroom experience was assigned to a certain song. One song in particularly caught my interest, a blues guitar piece by Roy Buchanan. Here's a link if you're interested: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Vg7XyHLTHzc
I distinctly remember TG, Bart and bob all sitting on chairs, speaking in verse and rhyme, each person speaking one line after eachother. I consulted them about this later and confirmed that it never happened. They spoke of something that you can't describe or in any way apply a verb to it, ie, "you can't fuck it" for example. I believe they spoke of some pursuit of happiness. The last line of their little rap was "It's hell", right towards the end of the song. My vision was replaced by a bright white light and I was immediately engulfed by a feeling of extraordinary pleasure which very quickly accelerated in intensity to the point of the most painful thing I had ever experience. It felt like if you could somehow be crushed into the size of a pea whilst retaining conciousness, then someone setting fire to that pea.
EDIT: I began to scribble down the "lyrics" of this while on acid and what I wrote disturbed me deeply. I soon burnt the paper.
Apart from this specific strand of memory, I remember being surrounded by police, being zipped into a body bag and I'm pretty at some point I was Moses or a similar figure. I was tripping to the point that each of my senses had such a dramatic influence on the eachother, they ended up just combining. I can't really be bothered explaining any more in detail but I'm quite sure I had learned the secrets of the universe and the nature of everything, at least for the period I was under the influence. Ignorance is bliss, people.
Anyway I had reoccuring suicidal thoughts, religious notions, self sacrifice and demons crawling out my behind to look forward to for the rest of that acid trip, and since then have suffered multiple drug-induced psychotic episodes. The problem is, even now several years later, reality sometimes doesn't seem quite right, because somehow I always feel something strange and trippy is at work. Some kind of master algorythm that dictates the phenomenon of conciousness. These days I sometimes get delusions of reference, where everything in my life is of some significance or importance to the grand scheme of things.
My question is, should I take a couple certified 2C-B pills and search for some kind of inner closure on this, or should I just continue living with the constant cold chills of dejavu?
So here's a bit of a prologue:
Very quickly after first trying weed, my life became largely drug-oriented.
I have never taken anything trippy "recreationally", with the exception of my first time. Every time I end up doing any form of hallucinogen it always seems to end up as a generally introspective experience. Upon taking LSD for the second time at 15 in a comfortable environment, I became very interested in your cliche "deep-thinker" acid topics, ie. shit like fractals, life and death and the nature of everything. This got me very interested in psychedelics. I had developed a yearning to know the secrets of the universe.
So in just under a year, a gram of DMT and about a meter of san pedro later I found myself in a peaceful country abode by a river, along with 3 good friends (at the time) and a drawer full of drugs. We had a quarter of weed, two blotters, a few doses of DMT, and two very strange looking baggies of dried mushroom. We had been sharing the weed all day, and were all very stoned. The squares were for two of my friends I will refer to as TG and Bart, who would be taking one each. Bob was the third man. He would not be tripping that night. The remaining candy was all for me.
The mushrooms were very peculiar looking, and the person who I got them off seemed very interested on how they went later. They had been sold to me as 2 doses, for $30 bucks a pop. This is very expensive in my area, especially considering he gave me a free dose less than a month prior. The mushrooms were very short, perhaps 3 inches long each at most, and dried to the extent of being reminiscent to NASA food. Each bag resembled a quarter of weed in volume. I did not weigh them however.
I decided to brew some mushroom tea. I simply emptied the contents of each bag into a mug, added hot water, stirred then drank. I did this twice, then ate the remaining mushroom flesh. By this point TG and Bart had well and truely dunked their squares. The four of us went outside to sit around the camp fire and smoke cigarettes and bongs. The stars out in the country were beautiful, and we had an amplifier set up with an iPod playing a playlist we had preset, so we didn't need bother with messing around with music. 20 minutes had passed and a was leaning back on my chair, completely disengaged from the conversation, observing the stars which were beginning to form kaleidoscope patterns. Within 10 minutes I had decided to proceed in smoking 2 consecutive cones of DMT infused leafed.
I was now sitting in a bedroom. I must have spilt half of the DMT I had trying to pack the cone piece. Bart held the bong to my mouth and lit the cones, as I was incapable of doing so at this point. Bob and TG were observing. Remarkably, I had managed to smoke both cones and stumble back outside. I let myself drop in front of the speakers. The next part of the trip is missing from my recollection.
Somehow I had taken a seat in one of the chairs. I must have looked completely gone. TG was trying to hold a cigarette to my mouth, similar to how you would to someone dying in some hollywood flick. Cluelessly, I began to eat the lit cigarette out of his hand. For the next half an hour (I can only guess it was half an hour) I was yelling legible yet completely random or irrelevent words. "Tazos", "Egyptians", the names of my parents are a few examples. My friends told me to follow them to the lake. They were saying the sand was glow-in the dark (due to the phosphor). Very quickly I became irrationally convinced they were plotting to drown me. I picked up an axe we had been using to chop wood, and began swinging it aggressively. At this point my friends abandoned me and went inside. I did not see them again and I do not blaim them. This is now around 1 and a half hours after injestion, a little more than one hour after the effects were first felt. I sat on the ground in between the fire and amplifier, despite the available seats.
I "awoke" the next day to the birds calling in the early morning. I was covered in puke, piss and ash, and was not wearing any lower body clothing. The previous 7 hours were completely missing from my recollection, and would remain that way until later. I smoked a cone of DMT which had absolutely no effect.
Around 3 months later, I decided to double dunk some blotter alone, in my room. It was the end of the school holidays and I felt unfulfilled about my break. I will not focus on this trip, only the flashbacks it brought.
Around 2 hours into the trip I hear my brother arrive home. At this point I prefered not to be disturbed by someone sober, so I simply shut all the lights off and layed in bed. I flicked on my ipod and put my earbuds in, then started browsing for good songs to trip to. I then stumbled across on an old playlist. The songs I played immediately opened the flood gates to the most powerful experience you could imagine. Each element of my mushroom experience was assigned to a certain song. One song in particularly caught my interest, a blues guitar piece by Roy Buchanan. Here's a link if you're interested: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Vg7XyHLTHzc
I distinctly remember TG, Bart and bob all sitting on chairs, speaking in verse and rhyme, each person speaking one line after eachother. I consulted them about this later and confirmed that it never happened. They spoke of something that you can't describe or in any way apply a verb to it, ie, "you can't fuck it" for example. I believe they spoke of some pursuit of happiness. The last line of their little rap was "It's hell", right towards the end of the song. My vision was replaced by a bright white light and I was immediately engulfed by a feeling of extraordinary pleasure which very quickly accelerated in intensity to the point of the most painful thing I had ever experience. It felt like if you could somehow be crushed into the size of a pea whilst retaining conciousness, then someone setting fire to that pea.
EDIT: I began to scribble down the "lyrics" of this while on acid and what I wrote disturbed me deeply. I soon burnt the paper.
Apart from this specific strand of memory, I remember being surrounded by police, being zipped into a body bag and I'm pretty at some point I was Moses or a similar figure. I was tripping to the point that each of my senses had such a dramatic influence on the eachother, they ended up just combining. I can't really be bothered explaining any more in detail but I'm quite sure I had learned the secrets of the universe and the nature of everything, at least for the period I was under the influence. Ignorance is bliss, people.
Anyway I had reoccuring suicidal thoughts, religious notions, self sacrifice and demons crawling out my behind to look forward to for the rest of that acid trip, and since then have suffered multiple drug-induced psychotic episodes. The problem is, even now several years later, reality sometimes doesn't seem quite right, because somehow I always feel something strange and trippy is at work. Some kind of master algorythm that dictates the phenomenon of conciousness. These days I sometimes get delusions of reference, where everything in my life is of some significance or importance to the grand scheme of things.
My question is, should I take a couple certified 2C-B pills and search for some kind of inner closure on this, or should I just continue living with the constant cold chills of dejavu?
Last edited:
