The Dissociated State
There are states - to a greater or lesser degree in different people - made up of motivational energy which relates to personality and behavior with energy dynamisms that are motivated from and by childhood trauma.
I was the victim of quasi-sexual abuse by my mother at age 5. It caused a type of resentment - not unusual in cases where the mother's personality is stronger than fathers - which found expression in me in a few different ways, but none so glaring as the sexual submissive and humiliating fantasies i lived in shortly before finding sexual release.
My first LSD experience is available for free download at my BARELy functioning/still under construction website:
www.trailopen.com. Go to SEXUALITY and you can find it, amongst other descriptions of sexual worlds never before written about the way i do.
The LSD - while first tossing me into worlds of such breathtaking, crystalline, colors-never-seen-before in other world-dynamism of paradaisacal glory, had me coming back to an earthly living room where teen girlfriend (1967) was holding a boombox where "Light-my-fire" had just ended. I could see that the drug, far from "doing" anything, was allowing my conscioussness to disappear and I wud float off into a paradise best described in Leary/metzner/Ram Dass' "Psychedelic Experiience." All you need is love, and turn off the mind, and float downstream. Seemed easy-as-pie..
I looked at my gf. She was in the grip of obvious anxiety and stress. I wanted to bring her into this world I had just discovered. I started to speak. M-I-S-T-A-K-E!
My ego was so divorced i had to go thru all these changes seeing that suddenly I wud b appearing 2 b a "guide" of sorts, and that role had never been discussed with my gf as being appropriate. Neither one of us had the understanding at that time how important these 'role issues' can be and shud b discussed before getting off. By the time i blurted out "just let go, and you'll float right out" I knew it was making a mistake.
She turned to me, smiled somewhat condescendingly, and said
"First time on acid?"
I resented her immediately.
BAD TRIP:
Love is alot easier to contemplate when you're in Paradise. I was no longer there, but in a land definitely MAGICAL BUT NOT FRIENDLY. I was heading in the direction of my insecurities, and was about to crash into my own sexual dissociation.
At first I didn’t have so much “thought” as I did experience pictures with large letters spelling E-G-O and symbols of the game Ronnie was playing on me, and my hesitation to not respond spontaneously was the mistake which allowed for the intimidation to take effect. Hence I began to lose myself in the reaction to her, the resentment of her. I began to tumble mentally as under an emotional wave every bit the kind where the wave and the undertow flip you around helplessly as I saw myself filled with images representing lack of confidence on my part while I placed injustice to her part.
Somewhere my ego was scrambling and screaming “
Foul! I came down for you!” I found love is a lot easier to consider when you’re floating by yourself in a fifth-dimensional paradise. I was suddenly not a happy camper. My mind was literally tumbling with changing realities crashing and burning into unconscious worlds of ‘good guy-bad-guy’ thought. Vivid pictures playing ping-pong with judgmental and highly troubling energies overflowed my consciousness. Dizzying fruit from the tree of resentment sent me spinning into terrifying images, suddenly bruised and out of control.
Rhonda, after giving me a patronizing look, continued to play the wise old hand at LSD, and I was supposed to play the confused novice. Then she took control. Bringing out the persona of the temptress, she purred a sex vibe to suggest we ascend to the bedroom with the rhetorical question “Ya’ ever make it on acid?”
Our love nest would be in the same bedroom in which I had almost murdered my cousin seven years ago. The walk upstairs was accompanied by the continued falling into confusion and inability to remember what had happened in my ‘psychedelic experience.’ I was trying - MISTAKE! - but utterly unable to deal with these changes I was going through.
When one has been ‘far out’ into galaxies unspeakable, the homecoming is itself a magical experience of a sort not easily discerned. Magical and full of potential danger, who can say how much of the personality is being accurately reflected in these animated states? The colors and shapes had not yet dissipated. They were still more like thick confetti or streamers continually in the air around me. Magic was everywhere, but not gaiety. Rather there were wounded feelings, gloom, hurt and betrayal with my body feeling like grayish rubber – as this texture reflected what the walls and bed looked like – as I lay down with Ronnie. I believed that to dive into sex was the only course of action to avoid a possible emotional schism with Rhonda, which was unthinkable at the time.
I was surprised to realize that the phenomenon I could only discern as colors - were in reality much more. They were like signposts or buttons that grew into full-blown energies as I delved into the thoughts and emotions which they represented. They had dynamism in that way. They in turn formed sub-dynamisms of groups forming a complex. As I realized what was necessary for me to perform sexually, the colored air itself within these thin lines of energy began to come alive with the spirits that enveloped and ingested the fantasies of my sexual bedroom.
The heavy outlines of multiple energies – not unlike neon – surrounded everything. Compared to the free-flowing jewels of my previously enlightened state, it was deadness now coming alive, but there was an electricity, a telepathy, that was not only unmistakable, but rapidly making me aware of my new realities. I had left Paradise for 42nd and Broadway.
There, amidst the dripping melting browns and rubbery grays of my bum trip, Ronnie is pretending bliss as we embrace naked on the bed. I’m very far away from being sexually excited. But excitement was all around me, tempting me to allow it entrance. ‘You know what you want, you know what you need’ seemed a tempting advertisement for hot sex ‘on the edge of town.’ It was to allow myself to mosey into those energy-thoughts and I would be over the top-of-the-roller-coaster-and-descending out-of-control. It was as if the only way I could embrace these tempting sexual excitements was to pay with my attention.
I see myself at a "Pay-phone" with "Attention" stenciled where there should be "Telephone" written, and I'm being asked to "pay" with some kind of tokens. Oh, it looks way too dangerous. I can’t believe this is really happening. A thought sizzles through the soul: ‘it’s all real.’ Yes, you. We’re here for you. This IS you. The inside you. This is your sexuality!’ It was as if these small slivers of pastel colors were a jet-engine fuel and all it would take would be my spark of sexual submergence into imagination to make them come alive. The jet-fueled-mist was everywhere, spiritual energies just beyond my sight, but showing their presence in occasionally glowing opacities as I turn to give it some attention. But I dissociate them enough, react resentfully enough to their presence that I know that to submerge into them is to offer my mind and body to be ravaged, to be invaded, to be re-created. These are infrahuman spirits.
I try to barter the degree of my own submergence; my worship, my becoming… in a world that’s not so much imagination as it is subconscious complex meeting collective unconscious, or, in this deep reality, perhaps the truth of the matter is that all these concepts represent simply another name for the spirit world. Can I just dip my toe in enough to get the job done?
Ronnie had started to give me oral sex, which did absolutely nothing for me, and I immediately realized with horror that I was actually shrinking more under her skillful ministrations, until I decided to stop arguing, and… capitulate.
I surrendered my lust to the energy flow. I relaxed and in doing so crooned inwardly for my unseen spirit, seeking to allow all those imaginative vulnerabilities to a lust which will marry my sexual submergence into hard body deliverance. I sought these tempting forces without censorship, without a thought for inhibition. As they entered and filled me I heard Ronnie moan even though my unit had not yet responded. I understood. The telepathy obvious, our sexual spirit was becoming one. The confetti colors of strips and spots grew quick and large into three and then four dimensions, and an inspired collection of live beings began to grow out of the air. A budding petal started to open peeling off its outer shell to reveal the emergence of something like a Chiquita-banana pornstar. Nothing laughable, her burning red-eyed gaze looked so deep into my soul there was no question of disobedience.
I surrendered and became that female spirit that was part of this fiery demon madam, and I assumed an identical role to that which Ronnie was giving to me. The pleasure, however, was being received by someone (or something?) else but using my body as a channel for that somebody (or something) else. I could feel how much I pleasured him, and cared not which name or real-world identity the demons threw out to put on the mysterious ‘other.’ Was it an enemy? Another male who intimidated me? I knew I dared not turn back. I dove into the humiliation of seeing a boy from my class, then a social nemesis each taking a turn, pleasured by me as Ronnie. I knew I would shrink to rubber the moment I took this committed libido off the accelerator to question what I was giving myself to. What I was really worshipping. Now I was past such concern. With devotion I dove and drove deeper. I took them all, serviced each as the spirit willed, and the spirits coming up through this plantlike opening were unlike any representations I had ever seen on earth nor are their likenesses portrayed in any media ever created.
The sexual energy-imagery was a plethora of spirits of submissiveness and humiliation, domination and romance; betrayal, wickedness, sadism and masochism, half human, half demon, half male, half female and their hermaphrodite nature a mere signature of – or a compliment to – their inhumanity.
Shameless scenarios linked up to unabashed excitement hardened my body bringing Ronnie’s energy to a now raging life as well. As I entered her, endless faces of sensuality, sexuality, cunning, enslavement, humiliation and betrayal enveloped me, abused me, cuckolded me, and as the height of excitement and physical release approached, demanded greater commitment and a total submergence to this eager worship. As I gave up my mental, emotional and spiritual soul to it, Ronnie was crying out loudly.
As I poured out my release into her eager body, a spirit which was to haunt me for forty years showed itself. As the orgasmic satisfaction planed my consciousness free of anxieties, a dramatic, devilish hermaphrodite with an intense opacity of yellow, red and fleshtone showed itself. It’s blue eyes burned with a temptation that turned from teasing concupiscence to coldly hateful, and it came to stay within my inner world, and it let me know just how it was going to set up residence.
It completed its demonstration and declaration in front of my eyes by turning and showing me its two perfectly round childlike buttocks as if in a desire to be sodomized, and then, bending slightly over as if in invitation to be entered, spun the one butt cheek on its left in an east to west 180 degree spin and the butt cheek on its right going west to east in a minus 180 degree spin; both staying in place anatomically but as if each butt cheek was spinning on its own axis away from the other; and in doing so tore its own anus to pieces from its ripped-open dark middle, introducing the entrance of a greater spirit that it served by having its master emerge through this opening into my reality and thus acquaint me with true madness. I tore silently shrieking like wet toilet paper shredding apart, and became deeply psychotic, finally finding a quiet place of relief by accepting my insanity and staying there throughout the post orgasmic afterglow for hours afterward.
I had fallen into a state of dull catatonia in which my mind stopped raging. The word “psychotic” floated across the theatre of my mind in big thick letters, but I didn’t have the energy to care any more. I reintegrated into “reality” within a few hours.
The next day we moved into our Brooklyn apartment. We decided we’d been through some pretty ‘heavy tripping,” so in order to be responsible, we agreed it prudent to wait another two weeks before doing it again. Summer of 1967.
