Trip Report of Only Your Hardest Trip Ever

[killronaldreagan]

My hardest trip was on a quarter of mushrooms plus a leftover shroom sandwich with approx. a half quarter of shrooms. At this time I had started getting into week-long binge-journeys on any and every drug I could get my hands on in large quantity. This time I was lucky enough to be able to afford to spend a full week on shrooms. It was early into the game, being the first drug I played it with. It was also the only time I've played the game without ending up with mild to severe HPPD and almost killing myself from what should've killed the average bear, but that'll be included in usual dosages. I at no point forgot what was happening was drug related, but only because I had actively planned a week-long journey on shrooms, was already on approx. day 4 or 5 of the adventure and had wanted to start doing week-long journeys for a long time before that

There was a big party at my house that day, and so I woke up that morning higher than Hunter S. Thompson on a Friday night. I knew I was a few days in when my room was a complete unrecognizable mess. Various parts and wires from a total of 4 PS2s were violently and thoroughly strewn across the whole room, my bed was sideways, various little things that triggered drugged out vivid memories. I went into the bathroom only to find my bathroom mirror missing and my Xbox 360 completely wrapped in string hanging from where it should have been. I listened to some music for a few hours, periodically forgetting everything I have ever known, including English, only to have it surge back in and out in chunks. I was barely capable of coordinated thought, and attempted to hang out with my brother before the party only to be distracted by what was happening all around me. Everything was no longer texture, just various separate and unrelated hallucinations form the basic shapes of everything in great mass and diversity while all doing completely different things and acting independently of each-other. I spent a few hours pondering Nihilistic beliefs and staring in dumb unbridled horror of my cat, and then the party was in full swing. I bumbled around the party desperately trying to figure out what the hell was going on. I needed weed I thought. Desperately yet somehow darkly comedically I desperately tried asking all of the people at the suddenly appearing yet distinctly real party who I thought might have some to please, just give me a few hits to calm my nerves and get a grip, but I didn't even know who my mother was, let alone how to express myself, and everyone was too wasted to make sense to anyone either, so I wandered in a haze through conversations and people and various emotions, but all was unclear and disjointed. I was wandering through a haze of disjointed images, places, people, with no semblance of what had happened to bring me there, or what any of it could mean. I began to realize I was slipping in and out of ego-death at a party full of drunk punk rockers, so eventually one of my friends drunkenly said she'd smoke me up. She brought me and a mutual friend into my brother's bathroom with my bong, and the friend packed it while we intoxicatedly conversed. Everything started elevating at this point, and the world became far more mushroomy than it was even before, at an increasing rate. I felt like the bong was being prepared for hours, and then I realized my friend I was with had started punching me. What's going on here I thought, and then suddenly realized I had loudly shouted fuck off at her without removing the expression of sheer confounded joy, and she said ok. This repeated a few times with our other friend still packing the bowl, but it was clear by his expression we were the two most completely fucked people he had ever seen and just wanted to hit the bowl like I did, but he just kept busting, and eventually she sprayed me with windex, and I had my mouth open at the time so I just got a mouthful of cleaning solution at a time when I'm too fucked to know how to spit, let alone where I can. I shouted something along the lines of Don't spray fucking windex, and tried to take away the bottle from her. She fell over, then suddenly as I just touched the bottle, my senses were suddenly replaced with just patterns with no shape moving quickly. At the time I thought she was attacking me, but then I suddenly heard GET THE FUCK OUT OF THE BATHROOM NOW!!! and everything cut back. I was standing where she had been, and there was no windex that I could see. She kept shouting at me to get the fuck out, (even though it was my house and clearly I was far too fucked to deal with this effectively) and eventually literally kicked me out of the bathroom and I heard the door slam behind me as I started to stand back up from that uncalled for fall. I had absolutely no idea what the fuck had just happened, just that I had probably lost a friend, a dealer, never got that hit, and they still had my fucking bong! I went into the kitchen, just trying to figure out what was happening, trying to fix the acidic burning in my stomach and throat, trying to get someone to just help me, tell me they understood and to walk me through these intricate realities. I saw one of my best friends, but all I could say after the greatest effort I've ever put into a single task in my life was she sprayed me with windex. He asked me if I was ok and that we should go over and talk about it with her. I managed to get out she's still smoking with my bong, shortly followed by me spitting all over myself. He said ok cautiously and slowly backed out of the room. I walked back into my brother's room, only to realize that my friend had just gone in to get blazed with the people who just kicked me out, or at least it sounded like it. I walked a bit further to the door out to the porch when I ran into my brother, who spoke, but I had no idea what he was saying. He opened to door to outside, and it was beautiful. I would disjointedly find myself sitting on my bed back upstairs in my room very suddenly in the most horrible of pain trying to get the windex out but being completely unable to communicate or remember anything outside of the events of the trip, to being suddenly back outside having a blast. There was absolutely no meaning of time or place, just that things were happening outside my control or understanding, and that all I could do was sit helplessly and just try to make the best of this horrible side effect. I had no idea whether only one was real, or if one had happened before the other and those were just memories, or if I was really just blacking out moving to a new location and suddenly realizing I was there, or if I had just completely lost my mind or TED NUGENT! After a few hours of this merry go round of raping the space-time continuum harder than should or could ever be appropriately or possibly handled or dealt with, I found myself back on my bed, but for good this time. I desperately tried to find the time. 5:00am. I looked at the clock, and I looked at my room, and I looked at myself in the mirror on my bedroom wall, and I just laughed. I laughed uncontrollably and said through the cackling that there's still 2 more days left to go. I finally went to sleep soon after time had readjusted itself, and awoke prepared for anything. Although the next day yielded full ego-death instead of the partial ego death I had experienced prior in ever increasing increments until that day and although I learned far more from ego death, this was by far the most intense distortion of reality I have ever experienced. I would never trade this experience for the world, and it was all the preparation I needed for every other negative drug experience I've experienced since then. Without this I would never be able to live functionally with heavy HPPD, I would've freaked out during any of my overdoses* and it is, in my opinion, the closest I've ever come to becoming Hunter S. Thompson sipping Martinis with a side of Mescal poolside at the Flamingo, and that is worth more to me than full ego death ever can or will be.

*My drug background is..
Shrooms: usual dosage 3.5g
Ecstacy: usual dosage 7 - 15 pills over the course of an hour or two
Pseudoephedrine: usual dosage: 10 grams over the course of a day when I have it
Seroquel: I've tried Seroquel as a recreational drug, doing 3.5g at the time. (I railed many, many pills)
Weed: daily
LSD: usual dosage: 2 tabs
Benedryl: usual dosage: 1600mg - 2000mg (I have never done more or less than that.)
Meth: usual dosage: I never did it alone, and always did one part meth to two or three parts E
Alcohol: usual dosage: two 40 oz. and a mickey of 40%
Heroin: usual dosage: 500mg I've never done Heroin alone, and always combined it with E and alcohol. Also I've never done any more or less than 500mg.

The full list is bigger, but these are the ones I remember.

* Some of these dosages are considerably higher than what it takes to overdose. This is not to say I didn't overdose when taking these dosages, just that I'd never cared or noticed any negative side-effects from overdose and thus didn't realize I was at the time. This is also not to say I did this without repercussions, because there most certainly were numerous ones.

 

[swilow]

Willow, your trip seems (as you noticed) too Thelemic. Your avatar icon is Thelemic also, so it's clear you've been having uncle Crowley's secret medicine (i.e. teaching) for a while. Although I cannot understand how can one take 5mgs of Lucy and tell the story, it just looks like you got your "revelation" from your memories.

Nonetheless I would love to read your 10 (already 11?) pages of report!

I know- I am involved in a thelemic/chaos group (which is actually fucking hilarious), and have read a lot about Crowley and his beliefs (and discarded 99% of them)- its almost definite that the "revelation" was memory playing tricks.

The odd thing is that it felt more real then this right now. I didn't really remember this stuff as much as live it.

But hey, LSD is a powerful damn drug; moreso at the higher levels; either way, 11.

Oh, and the report is well over 11 pages now; I'm doing ym best to ensure it is divisiable by 11 though :D

 

[TheAppleCore]

^ How would you compare it in realism / depth / magnitude to a DMT breakthrough? I'm really quite curious about high dose LSD, but unfortunately cannot possibly afford to indulge, at the price I currently pay.

 

[Smoggie32]

...

 

[Godzilla]

Very interesting thread.
I have recently started experimenting with LSD again.
Past trips were with about a 1/8th of mush and very strong LSD in the 90's
In the 90's i took a lot of LSD and thought that no one except a small group of people that I know would ever understand were we had been. Well I have not gone as far as (willow) but I totally understand your description of dimensions. I called them a different world and as you know only a heavy dose of LSD will take you to those places. I have been to those cartoon lands were everyone looks like a different character. I had no idea who I was and would just run around trying to figure out who each person was. I would eventually figure out who each person was. I have seen my friends look like hammer head sharks, beavers with fish on their bellys, children with pinwheel hats on. Purple brilliant skys as if the sun was out on a dark night. ect Ive done that stupid shit driving as a kid and stopping in the midle of the street and not knowing how I got there or even where I got in the car to begin with. (so if feel your pain)
Before I was to young to really make any sense of it. My mind was not ready for that type of trip. Now slowly but surely I will reenter that realm. My trips have thus far been extreamly clear and euphoric with an amazing sense of insight. One person on this forum pointed out that I am in a different midset or time/place in my life and also with maturity I am able to understand more. I have a wonbderfull life now every thing is set and working perfectly. So the experiences are different.
Thanks bluelighters.

 

[DkBlaze1]

killronaldreagan can you please just break it into para graphes i m lossing my sight and refuse to get glasses and it really is a strain to read it as such and ur story as far as i got sounds interesting so id love if u could just break it in to paragraphs thank you man

 

[pharmakos]

10? swilow's trips go to 11!

 

[swilow]

^ How would you compare it in realism / depth / magnitude to a DMT breakthrough? I'm really quite curious about high dose LSD, but unfortunately cannot possibly afford to indulge, at the price I currently pay.

I'd say realer....Completely navigable 3D (4D?) space. Problem is the body attempts to do the navigating....Probably closer to the realism of salvia; full immersion into psycho-space with no remnants of the previous reality.

Or something....

 

[DkBlaze1]

=bump=

 

[Spenciclese]

1)1/8 mushrooms, 3 huge hits of dmt/weed during shroom peak (my first time for shrooms or dmt, 2nd trip ever )

2)I remember almost everything, aside from the immediate dmt trip (when my eyes were closed and i laid back for 5-10 min).

3)upon waking from the dmt, all I could put together to describe my experience was "....raw....existence..." I had a period during or right after the dmt in which, not sure of the order, I found a machine elf fractal hidden in my pillow that would remian in the same place if i put my head in the pillow and removed it, my body became a collection of objects from katamari damacy that merged and flowed with themselves and the bed/walls, I tried to kiss my gf (she was on an 1/8 of shrooms too) and upon lip contact, our mouths merged and blossomed sideways into lip shaped fractals.

I had wanted to go see the sunset after dmt but between me my gf and my two sitters, we couldnt get it together in time, so we went for a night walk.

later in the night I had a realization, and after believed the entire night was actually the dmt trip going on in my head while my body was still laying down in a bed (in fact I was actually walking around with my gf and sitters, but I just thought I was in my own "limbo" and they were all projections) and i believed when i figured out how to "break through" I would wake up, and it would've only been 5-10 min and I'd get a whole night of just shrooms. very interesting to believe youre in a cognizant projection of the world while your body is safe in a bed. I became childlike for a period and enjoyed throwing things (my glasses, a fresh bowl of weed), I would randomly take huge, deep breaths (I thought I was doing my body a service by making sure I got another hit of dmt in before it hit me [kinda backwards when you think about it after, since even in my mind, I was already in the dmt limbo]) and felt I was part of a special club of people who "get it" (life, tripping w/e) when we encountered some friends who were also tripping.

sobering was intense and put me into long loops of anxiety and thought circles. I took an alleve for a massive headache i got, but it got stuck in my throught and started to burn later, which sucked once i realized. all was well when i woke later in the afternoon after some good sleep.

good fun for my second trip, very surprised how well I remember it.

 

[Delta Xray Mike]

900mg DXM

Took a bath at what I thought was peak. Ended up puking then actually peaking.

This trip... it's impossible to explain. It goes beyond human experience. I know people have taken more, but I don't think I could. Could top it I mean. I saw the end. I climbed to the top. I understood the reason. It's all but lost to me now.

I think the bath helped.

 

[shashrun]

the hardest trip ive had was at a fest wasnt my favorite trip i must say...i went to a show the night before rolled then drove 6hrs to fest ate an1/8 of mush and 2 hits of liquid the trip was really really intense the visuals was mindblowing and my brain was on its own rollercoaster...i learned a whole bunch about nothing lol...probably shouldnt of tripped with no sleep wasnt a good idea haha

 

[moe.ron]

my hardest trip ever was also the only time besides salvia I had a bad trip, one of only 3 times I would say I reached a plus 4, and also remains my favorite trip to this day.... Twas quite a ride to say the least

Was only a few months ago... And though Id been tripping for years at that point I had mayb less then 40 trips under my belt so I was still relatively inexperienced in the grand scheme of things (still am but I probably have closer to a hundred nowadays). So keeping this is mind we can see where things went wrong. The drug was mushrooms and the dose was 7 grams. Now this wasnt where I went wrong, in fact it was my second time eating a quarter and before that I had had a dozen or so 3.5-6 gram trips along with a few breakthrough sessions of deemsters so I was not inexperieced with extreme tryptamine experiences. Where I did go wrong was forgetting I had not smoked weed the first time I ate a quarter. I also ate it an eights an hour apart... So while my first quarter ride had been one for the ages it was not overly intense. I figured I would always be able to handle it.

So its 9 oclock at night and I eat my quarter over 10 minutes. Directly after finishing I smoke a bowl of marijuana........ Things escalated quickly to say the least lol. Within 20 minutes I knew something was wrong. This was not like my first quarter. I was already higher then Id been in my whole life. Visuals were already equal to that of an eight. By t0:30 entities were coming out of the wall, ceiling and indeed everywhere I looked. I would close my eyes and be presented before entities very similiar in appeareance not to the dmt elves we all hear about, but rather like what a human looks like in an Alex Grey artwork.

Sadly I was way to high to enjoy any of it. Mckenna says one of the worst things you can do is give into amazement. Well I would say its the second worse, the first being giving into fear.... From t0:30 to t2:00 things just kept getting worse. The visuals continued getting stronger and stronger. My mind completely shut down accept for panic. I threw myself all over my bed desperately trying to get comfortable, but it was no use. I imagine to the outsider looking in I looked very much like a man possessed. I would curl into a fetal position for 5 seconds, roll onto my back remaining in a curled ball, roll over onto my knees so that my back was to the ceiling and my scalp was on my bed pointing to the floor, and I kept putting myself in these weirder and weirder body positions. I convinced myself that the mushrooms I ate were poisonous, that some how my dealer had grown the wrong kind and I was on my way to death. I tried so many times to throw up but nothing came. Meanwhile I was trying to remain calm but the trip seriously got stronger and stronger with each passing second. By t1:30 if I were to stare at a certain point for just a moment my entire visual field would be covered to the point that I could not tell that my eyes were open. The entites continued revealing themselves to me but more then anything they scarred me.

At t2:00 I moved from my bed room to my living room hoping a change in scenery would help but it did not. I thought long and hard about calling an ambulance, but I figured it was pointless anyways, by now the mushroom poison had worked its way into me and I was soon to be dead. From t2 to t2:30 I paced around walking a never ending circle between my kitchen and my living room. Only by constantly moving was I able to see anything at all. If I stopped moving or focused my eyes for just a second the visuals would over take everything. During t00:30 to t2;30 pretty much the only words to escape my mouth were "oh my god" or "these mushrooms are destroying me" or "ill never be the same" or other statements of general amazement.

Let me comment for a moment on why I thought these mushrooms were poisonous, which is what lead me to having a bad trip. Like I mentioned, before this trip I had experience with mushies, and high dose mushies, but never anything near this level. So when I got the sensation of being sat on by an elephant I got pretty scared. The biggest thing was though, was how SLEEPY the mushrooms made me. Before that trip I just never really realized how much lethargy mushrooms could produce especially when on the come up. So for those first 3-4 hours during no point could I keep my eyes open longer then say, 30 seconds at a time before I had to close them. I was soooo sleepy. I yawned constantly and was sure that if I fell asleep it was over and I would die. Also the body high psilocin produces is so profound I *could not feel* my heart beating ifI put my hand directly on my chest where it was. So in this state I was not able to realize it was just the body high preventing me from feeling my heart, I thought it was seriously stopping. I 100% believed it was game over by t2:30 in.

At t2:30 I stopped pacing between the two rooms because I was so high i could no longer hold my body up. I literally just dropped 3 or 4 times. I curled up on a ball on my couch. I got on my lap top, and then google and tried to type in "do mushrooms make you sleepy" but what came out was so misspelled not even google could guess what I meant. I put the lap top away and went back into fetal position. Entities continued pouring out of the roofs and walls. I tried sooooo hard for sooooo long to keep my eyes open. I 100% knew in my mind that if I went to sleep I was not waking up. But in the end there was no stopping it. I tried as hard as any one could, but there was nothing to be done. Kicking and screaming or peacefully, one way or another the ego has to die. I eventually closed my eyes....

Though I did end up closing my eyes and not reopening them for some time, I know for a fact I did not fall alseep, but I do not remember to much of what happened from t2:30 to t3:30. What I know for sure is that I layed in a fetal position on my couch for an hour and did not open my eyes until t3:30, or 12:30 at night. The hour I layed on that couch, I do believe some things happened that cannot yet fully be understood by modern man. Its hard to put it in words, calling it a ++++ seems to be a great injustice. I doubt even when I die will I have fully integrated what happened that night. That experience more then any other has shaped my views on what psychedelics are and what they do.

At t3:30 I finally realized I had not died, was not dying and would not die. Quite a weight was taken off my shoulders to say the least. I was finally able to enjoy the trip, and the experience the mushrooms gave me between t3:30 till t8-9 or whenever it was that I fell asleep that night completely made what I had to go through to get there worth it. At t3:330 I smoked a bowl for the first time since the first bowl that sent me into an early and spiraling bad trip at t00:10. The bowl this time was a god send. The visuals were blasted to a level I have trouble to this day comprehending. WAYYYY stronger then 40 or 50 mg of smoked dmt, i shit you not. Though no more entities visited me after I got off the couch at t3:30 the visuals were stonger then everything I had seen from t0-t3:330. I learned that night smoking weed with your psychedelic is a must. Since this trip I have not tripped once without the addition of weed at the peak. But anyways I was able to sustain this level of trip from t3:30 till t5 at which point the visuals, the body high (which on the come up was disgusting but from t1:30 on was beautiful), and the head trip all began slowly leveling off until I went to sleep at sometime around 4 or 5 in the morning.

 

[Tina Dopemau5]

1. LSD 10 blotter tabs.

2. I was at the All Good festival and I remember buying 3 tabs from one dude, but after an hour I felt nothing so I bought 7 more from someone else and took all right away.

3. Thank fucking god I was with my friend and she wasn't tripping otherwise who knows what would have happened. It took about an hour for the 7 hits to kick in, and they kicked in STRONG. The visuals were so intense I could not walk without my friend's assistance because everything kept looking like water, then sand. My friend looked like she was made of pixels like an old video game, especially when she moved around, it was disjointed like she was all made of cubes.

I would stare into space and relax my eyes meditatively and within a couple of seconds everything would align I saw this brilliant white light. This always happens when I trip but I never could experience seeing the light with such ease before. I call it "seeing god".

Before this trip I was agnostic, I didn't know whether or not there was a god but wasn't going to rule out the possibility. In this trip it was like there was a god, there was a being out there desperately trying to control things. A loving conscience who wanted the best for everything. But this entity could not control anything I realized. Everything is harshly dictated by the math of cause and effect and nothing can change or control the flow of energy other then that. Math. Cause and effect. I remember thinking "it must suck to be god" and I felt this entity was depressed about all the horrible things in the world it could do nothing about.

I felt that I was able to see from a miniscule sub-atomic level the actions of cause and effect. I felt I could see the way things play out on a level people normally cannot. I remember thinking that nothing is truly random, we are just not always able to detect on all levels in which one thing effects another. And if we could we could possibly predict the future. Or at least control the future as opposed to blindly following the laws of cause and effect as we do now.

That was the essence of my trip. This took place at the 2008 All Good festival. Since then I consider myself an atheist.

 

[Kapitan]

1. LSD (300mcg)

2. No, I forgot I had taken a drug, as detailed below

4. I've taken LSD, DMT, Auahuasca, Psilocybin mushrooms, Mescaline, 4-AcO-DMT, 4-HO-MET, 5-MeO-MiPT, 2C-E, 2C-T-2, 2C-B, 2C-I, Salvia and Nitrous at various dosages.

3.

This incident happened just under two years ago, and was, compared to my other, previous psychedelic experiences, very unusual. I have never before or since had a reaction like this to any psychedelic drug. However, I doubt that any of my previous LSD doses exceeded 150ug. As I had taken LSD many times before, I was probably overconfident and I didn't expect anything unusual to occur. Thus, I neglected to take any notes at all during the episode. However, even if I had, I would probably have burned them or doubted their authenticity, anyway, as I spent most of the episode in a paranoid psychotic state. Most of the times in this report are estimates.

Consider this a cautionary tale of the awesome power of even a medium-high dose of LSD, when coupled with an unstable mind, the wrong setting, and the power of suggestion.

A bit of backstory: In mid-February of 2008, I attended what I consider to be my first 'rave.' It was spectacular, and was further enhanced by the phychedelic mushrooms that I had taken. My experience at this event left me with a voracious appetite for electronic music events, and I fed with everything I could afford. It wasn't long before I stumbled upon a forum post advertising an electronic music festival in the backwoods of East Texas, and I felt compelled to attend. So, I rounded up ten of my closest friends, and set out on the 8 hour drive to "Revenge of the Space Hippies."

We arrived approximately two hours after sunset, and we were all in a great mood, though a bit apprehensive about the quality of the event. We had just driven over five hours to this event, after all, which appeared at first to have an attendance of no more than fifty people. I would later learn that the attendance was more along the lines of two hundred people or so, but that the trees were simply obscuring some of the more secluded camping areas. In retrospect, this event changed my perception of what a music festival could be permanently; the small events are always better.

After paying the guys at the gate a twenty dollar admission fee, and signing a waiver of some sort, we found a parking spot and unloaded our three cars worth of camping equipment. This included an old, beat-up couch for some reason, a rather small tent, some firewood, and a handful of doses of 2C-E, one of my favorite compounds. Sadly, these doses were never used.

I hadn't been out of my car for twenty minutes before I was confronted by a beautiful naked girl and her two naked henchmen, with glowsticks in several of their orifices. She presented me with a small, plastic, neon-colored watergun, which I gladly accepted, as it was supposed to get hot the next day. I then began to explore.

It seemed to be a pretty hopping event, with colored lights and torches scattered around the private land, and everything was permeated by the low, psychedelic thump from the main stage soundsystem. We introduced ourselves to our neighbors, who seemed as lost as we were, and set out exploring. It wasn't long before my friend A got involved in a drum circle of naked, tripping people, who offered to sell him some LSD. He promptly bought and took four doses, which were in liquid form in a breathmint bottle. I took just one. The drum circle seemed to be dying down, as everyone was obviously very intoxicated, so we meandered back to our camping spot about a quarter mile away to wait for the come-up.

It wasn't a long wait. Within fifteen minutes of dosing, I was experiencing visual hallucinations reminiscent of the peak of what I would consider a "two hit trip." The hair on my arm was incredibly defined, and moving in waves, and whenever I looked into a dark corner of the forest, multicolored fractal-esque patterns would spring out from behind the trees. "This is really good acid ...," I commented to A.

We sat down on the couch, and I began conversing with J, a guy who I didn't know personally, but who had apparently come to the event in one of my friend's cars. He informed me that he had been in a mental institution for the last week, as a result of an episode where he had paraded around his high school completely naked. Of course, he was trying this same LSD for the first time tonight, although I didn't personally see him take any. Appropriately enough, a parade of naked people soon wandered through our camp, and tried to convince him to strip off his clothes and come wander with them. He obliged, but not before convincing me to take a bunch of pictures of him in our campsite with a disposable camera. I thought this was eerily suspicious, and seemed like something a cop might do, but I didn't say anything. My paranoia was begging to develop.

At this point, probably about thirty or forty five minutes after dosing, the trip was becoming overwhelmingly intense. I was completely unprepared for a consciousness shift of this magnitude off of one hit of acid, and as a result, I didn't consider the fact that I was on drugs when making the rest of my decisions for the night. In fact, I don't even recall any additional psychedelic effects after this, other than a profound consciousness shift of some sort.

(I've since found, in subsequent trips, that, at a certain point, I will start to ignore the visuals completely, and simply accept that I have somehow fallen into an alternate reality. Frequently when this happens, I'm on such a high dose that I can't even remember how it happened, i.e. that I'm on drugs. This was my first experience with that effect. By the way, high dose Mescaline does this quite nicely.)

Random tribal-clad rave people wandered in and out of our camp, chatting, asking where we were from, what our names were, and talking about drugs. At this point, essentially everyone in our camp had ingested this unusually powerful acid, and we were all very significantly altered. Before long, I overheard a conversation where one of my good friends, S, who I have known for most of my life, told a stranger that I had brought some doses of 2C-E with us. Though I had never encountered one personally, I knew that undercover cops must attend these events. From my perspective, this stranger seemed unusually interested in the 2C-E, asking S where I had obtained it, and so forth. S happily told him anything he asked, until I pulled him aside and asked him not to divulge any more information like that to people he had never met before. As far as anyone else was concerned, I told him, we had no drugs at all in our possession. "You mean .... there are cops at these things!?" he asked me with wide, fearful eyes. As we were in earshot of several people I didn't know, I simply nodded discreetly, and, in my paranoia, turned to lock my car.

I then returned to sit on the couch next to our campfire, where A was waiting. I had no idea if he had just come back from somewhere, or if he had been here all along, as I had lost all sense of the immediate past or future. All I knew was that I was now in a position to interact with him. There were several people sitting around the campfire who I didn't know, and who were in the exotic tribal dress that seemed to characterize the people attending this event. I had given A some of my bottle rockets earlier in the evening, and he was unwrapping some of them. One of the suspicious characters, who I suspected was an undercover cop, got up and left when it became apparent that I was deliberately not speaking, and I commented on my suspicions to A. "Don't worry," he said as he lit off a bottle rocket, "There are no cops here. This is just someone's private land."

This small incident was enough for my paranoid, overactive mind to start looking for patterns, and ways to introduce potential danger into my situation. I decided that the bottle rocket was A's way of signaling that he actually meant the opposite of what he had actually said, so that he actually meant, "I agree, that guy was definitely a cop." This is a pattern of behavior that I continued to interpret in that fashion for the rest of the night.

It was about an hour and a half after I had taken the single dose, and I was experiencing significant mental confusion. A, who had taken five of these doses, seemed to be either far more confused than I was, or completely sober. I wasn't sure, as I hadn't actually seen him ingest the acid; he had just told me about taking it. I disregarded this relatively paranoid thought, as I had no reason to suspect that he might be lying to me. I probably trusted him more than any of the other people at this party, as I had known him for almost eight years. J soon returned, still completely naked, and started taking pictures of everyone again. His photography continued to make me uncomfortable, but I didn't say anything. I should have, though, as my suspicions were about to boil over.

Without warning, four people in tribal dress ran into our camp, kicked us off of the sofa, and began searching our couch. "My friend is missing his phone," one of them said to me. "He thinks it fell out while he was over here on your couch." They pulled all the cushions off, reached deep into the couch, looked under it, and I even thought I saw them cutting open the cushions, although I seriously doubt that actually happened. I was convinced that this was an undercover raid, and they thought we were smuggling drugs in our couch cushions. "We're looking for the phone," they continued to repeat. One of them pulled out a giant maglite, the kind that I associate with the police. "We're just losing all kinds of things tonight," he said, as he looked all around our camp on the ground and under our cars. "We're all just losing all kinds of stuff. Phones, watches ... keep looking! Is it there? Did you find the phone? It's amazing all of the stuff we've lost!" J seems enthralled, and takes a picture. I sneak off to the side, pour out all of the 2C-E solution that I had hidden underneath the wheel of S's car, throw the bottle into the back of my car, and lock it.

And, just as soon as they arrived, they all left, save for one stranger, who had been there through the whole ordeal. "Did that really happen?" I asked A, meaning, 'Did undercovers just search our camp?'

Perhaps he understood me, or perhaps not, or perhaps he was just as confused as I, but he confirmed my paranoia when he replied, "Yeah, I think so, I wouldn't worry about it," laughed, and lit off a bottle rocket. "There are no cops here. Although, it does seem kind of strange ... you come onto some people's land, sign some long legal document, and they give you acid ..."

Then it clicked. This wasn't a rave; it was an undercover DEA intelligence operation! By, 'There are no cops here,' he meant that there are definitely tons of police everywhere, that we had just been searched, and the bottle rocket was a method of signaling that he meant the opposite of what he had just said. Panic set in.

I went back to sit on the couch, where J was already settled in, and seemed quite jovial. I couldn't imagine why. He must be one of them. THAT's why he was taking pictures of everything; he was obtaining evidence to use against us in court, when we were all arrested for illegal drug possession. I had to be careful; the search had been discrete, so the arrests might be, as well.

An old man wandered up to our camp, with a peaceful demeanor unlike anything else I'd witnessed that night. He must have been at least fifty years old, if not older, and was walking with a really excellent gnarled, twisty, knotted tree branch as a cane. He brought some very important information with him.

"Do you know how acid works?" he asked. I do, as much as any undergraduate college student can, but I didn't even know what I was at that point, so I shook my head. "It works basically like this: Imagine that one of your neurons is a car. Now, imagine that you hook the alternator up to the chassis of the car, cover the whole thing in water, park it in a puddle of gasoline, and try to start it. That's basically what acid is doing to your brain." Needless to say, this freaked me out a little bit.

"And all of this, out here, that you think you're experiencing? This forest, that you think you're sitting in? This doesn't actually exist. Everything you experience is simply an abstraction, a replica, an imaginary world that your brain has created from sensory input. It might not have any relation to the real world at all. For all you know, you could be a brain floating in a jar, hooked up to a supercomputer. Everything in your life that you think you've experienced, that you've touched, that you've smelled, might not even be real, except in a little spot right below your hypothalamus."

I had no idea what to do with this information. It felt critical. The wise old man wandered off.

"There's a place where you can swim, down that path," remarked the only remaining stranger in our camp, in conversation with my friend R. "You should go check it out." R, who had taken two doses, seemed overwhelmed and excited with the suggestion. He promptly jumped up, grabbed the stranger, and they both plodded down the path towards the swimming hole. Before long, J commented that he might like to go swimming in a bit, as well, prompting S to throw on his swimsuit and run off in the direction of what I assumed were the uniformed police,
waiting to arrest those people who they had sufficient evidence to prosecute, out of the view of the majority of the people at the event. That left just me, A, and J, who, by that time, I was convinced was the leader of the sting operation.

"So you're in charge, huh?" I asked him. They were playing some kind of dark, thumping house music over the sound system at the main stage.

"In charge? What do you mean?" he replied with a smile. Just then, something that sounded like police sirens faded into and out of the mix of the music, which just further emboldened me.

"Wha ... wow. Did you do that?" I asked him. I laughed, because it was so obvious. In my eyes, this was confirmation that he was the head of an undercover narcotics sting operation, whose ultimate goal was to lock me away in prison for as long as possible.

"Do what?" he asked, with what I assumed was a smug expression. It seemed so obvious that he was a cop, as he looked just like one. But damn, he was hard to read. I wondered why S had brought an undercover police officer with us. All I really knew was that, if I exposed him, he would have no choice but to call out the cavalry and blatantly arrest me and A, so as to prevent the other people under investigation from fleeing. As long as we played his game, and didn't expose him, we would remain free for the moment, and thus perhaps able to escape. I was at an impasse.

(Obviously, at this point, about three hours after dosing, I was in the midst of a severe delusional episode, but none of my friends were aware.)

My conversation with J continued for about thirty more minutes, while I continually hinted that he was an undercover narcotics agent, and he continued to act confused. Finally, A piped up, and suggested that we go check out the main stage, and lit off a bottle rocket. I assumed this meant that he wanted to make a run for it, and quickly agreed. We grabbed some additional bottle rockets, and wandered down the path towards the music. When we reached the stage, A turned to me, and asked,

"So, do you want to go swimming?"

It couldn't be. But it was.

" ... you too?" was my only reply. The jig was up. This was no undercover narcotics sting. I had known A for almost ten years, and, yet, somehow, he was suggesting that I give myself up, and go be willingly arrested, or whatever was waiting at the end of the path to the "swimming hole."

The only explanation was that this world, this "reality," was some sort of simulation, some sort of artificial projection of life, constructed in an unfathomably complex alien supercomputer as that old man had suggested. I knew that their civilization must have advanced to the point where the only practical method of developing algorithms was to let them evolve on their own, and attempt to cultivate them like an individual. Like ... a person. I was simply a runaway, malfunctioning algorithm, which would soon be terminated. Throughout my life, all the talk of, "don't do drugs," "don't have sex," "make good grades," were simply attempts to influence behavior that they had no practical way of programming themselves, as it was simply too complex.

But I had deviated from their intended course. I was a runaway, free radical of an algorithm, which was of limited or no use. My mindset had become corrupted, and my worldviews were invalid as far as they were concerned. And they had made the decision to terminate me. There was no way out.

"Sure. Lets go swimming," I replied. I gave up.

"Sweet, let me go get my swimsuit," said A, and he walked back towards the camp. Of course, he wasn't actually an algorithm being cultivated, but rather simply a guiding program, a method of influencing me, and an agent of these "culture police" whose wrath I had incurred. This was his exit from the simulation I inhabited, and I knew that, as soon as he left my field of vision, he would cease to exist.

I felt drawn down the path towards the swimming hole. I went.

It was a long, winding path, and I could see very little. I walked for five minutes. Ten. A thousand. The music gradually faded away into the trees behind me, leaving me alone in the middle of an unknown forest. I seemed to walk for an eternity before I came unexpectedly across the same old man who I had been talking to twenty minutes ago. The Mysterious Stranger. He was a unique individual in this reality, a direct line to the alien cultivators of the supercomputer-driven simulation that was my life. I knew I could ask him anything, all the deepest questions of mankind, and he would have the answers. They had no reason to hide anything from me any longer. This was what made my mindset invalid, I realized. I could have been a doctor, I thought. But my thirst for knowledge, my drive for learning, was not strong enough. I didn't want the answers. I was defective.

"Which way to the swimming hole?"

He smiled and gestured down the path with his gnarled staff.

"It's a long walk, but it's that way. It's a beautiful night on Planet Earth."

I smiled, thanked him, and asked him how long of a walk, exactly.

"Exactly? Oh, about five, ten minutes. Just keep going that way, and you'll find your way. And when you get there, I'm sure you'll feel like a new man."

What was this? I'll find my way? Were they offering me a second chance? I felt relief wash over me. I knew that I would have to undergo some kind of mental reconditioning, perhaps in the guise of a prison sentence. By 'five or ten minutes,' he must have meant five or ten years behind bars. But, after it all, I would remain alive. I was an individual. I was Howard Roark. I was invincible. And, no matter what they tried to do to my mind, I resolved to remain myself. I strode with confidence, excited to begin this new phase of my life.

(Wow. I was delusional. I think this is approximately where I peaked.)

But then, as the man drew back into the darkness behind me, I started having second thoughts. Perhaps I could give myself a second chance, without their consent. Perhaps I could live in hiding, a rogue algorithm, but with my current worldview and perspective intact. After all, my lack of drive was the defective part of me, right? So I'll summon up some conviction, and live my life as full as I could, even without the consent of these "worldview police."

I ran. In a random direction. I ran into the woods.

I must have run for at least half an hour. I knew that they couldn't follow me everywhere, and I had to get to my car, without raising suspicion.

I ran through the trees, with no idea where I was, or where I was going. I ran until I was covered with scratches and cuts from the trees.

I ran. Out of my mind.

After what seemed like a second eternity, I burst through the trees near our camping spot. J seemed genuinely surprised to see me.

"I thought you were going swimming," he stuttered.

I said nothing, but dove over the couch, and tried to take his disposable camera from him. He didn't want to give it up, but I had to have it. I fought. After wrestling with him for an extended period of time, and almost losing the fight, I succeeded in wresting it from his grip, and jumped onto the bed of S's truck, the only hard flat surface around here. I smashed his camera with my heel, until it was just a mass of broken plastic, loosely held together with exposed film. He was quiet, watching me. I knew my time was running short. I took out my keys, unlocked my car, started it, and drove off towards the gate of the festival grounds at as high a speed as I could handle.

(Obviously, one should never drive on LSD. I probably should have given my keys to a sober person before taking anything.)

The dirt road leading to the camp spots was a fairly decent length even sober, and by the time I reached the gate, I was in a full blown panic. I was on the run from the very beings responsible for creating the only reality in which I could live. I was sure that my complex algorithms would not translate into any other reality where I could live in true hiding. In effect, I was attempting to hide from God. And
perhaps it was the twisted sense of humor of God that influenced my musical tastes, such that I had left TV On The Radio's "Dear Science," in the CD player. By the time I reached the gate, the lyrics as I heard them were simply reconfirming my delusions:

"Knew you'd never ever be the same ... Is it not you? ... Am I not emboldened by your touch? ... The words you spoke, you know too much, its over now ...

Is it not me? ... The damage you hold inside your brush ... The road you took, you screwed it up ... It's over now, you've gone insane."

I took the CD out, and threw it out the window, but my efforts were futile. All of my favorite music was simply covert messages taunting me. Why hadn't I realized this before? Why would I voluntarily choose to listen to these songs? Really, had I ever even listened to the lyrics before? They didn't even make sense. The only explanation was that I hadn't voluntarily selected these bands as some of my favorite music, but rather it was implanted in my consciousness by the very people who had created in my consciousness in the first place. Yes, that was it. After all, how had I obtained this music? The Internet! Obviously, the internet was simply another mechanism, like school, for subverting my free will and molding the algorithm that was my consciousness.

WHY? Wouldn't they let me know the true beauty of music before they caught me, before my demise? Did music even have a parallel in the real world?

50MPH.

I drove like a madman, like a bat out of hell, in an attempt to put as much distance as possible between me and the worldview police, those who owned my body, those who had subverted my mind.

My phone was useless, I soon realized. It didn't look anything like it typically did; it was much shinier, and used a slightly different font. They must have stolen my real phone, and replaced it with this replica. (I actually believed this, despite knowing while sober that it is a common schizophrenic delusion.) In addition, its reception indicator read 'No Service.' So, they didn't want me communicating with anyone. They thought they would be able to catch me before I could reach anyone I knew. After all, I was more than five hundred miles from my nearest friend or family member, other than the undercover cops pretending to be my friends back at the worldview police sting operation. I'd show them, I thought.

70MPH.

These are east Texas country roads, and, luckily, no one was out driving around for me to run into. Nonetheless, in my state, I was unable to understand any of the basic rules of the road. My muscle memory had been tuned to the point that I typically drove on the correct side of the road, but I paid no attention whatsoever to the posted speed limit. I have one of those picture-perfect acid 'mind photographs' of a radar-enabled speed limit sign that I blew past in an east texas small town. It read:

SPEED LIMIT 25MPH
YOUR SPEED 99

Most road signs, however, were beyond my powers of comprehension. I remember wondering how they had managed to replace all of these signs so quickly with the nonsense hieroglyphic signs that were now scattered everywhere. Perhaps these signs had never meant anything, but I had simply had their meaning projected into my awareness by some kind of external force, some kind of limited mind control that the architects of the construct of reality had designed. The idea that they had this capacity troubled me, but I drove on. There was nothing I could do about it, save perhaps ending my life.

(I was now about a hundred miles from the rave, heading in the general direction of Dallas. It was about 4AM, roughly six hours after dosing. My vague intent focused on finding some extended family and warning them of the true, terrible nature of reality. I was actually having a paranoid psychotic breakdown.)

I drove. For what seemed like ten years. Ending my life. I kept thinking about it. And then I saw the green water gun that had been given to me earlier by the hippie girl. How did it get here? I distinctly remember leaving it back at the campsite. They must have teleported it here. What had that girl said as she handed it to me? "You'll be glad I gave this to you later." This must be it. They had known that it was likely I'd make a break for it once I figured out what was happening, so they had provided me with a way to end it in advance. It wasn't a literal gun, but it was somehow connected to the simulation of reality, so that when I pulled the trigger, my universe would be terminated, and I with it. So, it might as well have been a literal gun.

I pointed it at my head.

No.

I opened my window, heaved it from the car, and rolled my window back up. Immediately, I began to worry. What if that was the only way out of this hostile universe? What if they gave up, and pulled everyone out, so that at least I would not be able to corrupt them further? Would I be trapped, in a desolate world, emptied of all human contact, searching for all eternity for the toy gun that would allow me to die?

I had to reach my family before they found me. I knew that they would bring out the police and helicopters soon enough, so I didn't have much time.

Dawn. Racing around the curves of the Texas state highways, heading west, avoiding the interstates at all costs. Blowing through stop lights, stop signs, ignoring speed limits. Gradually, I started to see more cars on the road. They were quick to get out of my way, as long as I stayed in the left lane.

What if they had some sort of tracking device embedded in the car? In my phone? On my person? I took the battery out of my phone, and began to think. What could this tracking device look like? Could it be this bracelet that A had made for me, in the guise of a gift? It did have one bulbous end, perfect for hiding a microphone or radio transmitter. I threw it out the window as well.

I was almost out of gas. I pulled over at a gas station just as dawn was breaking. In retrospect, I think it must have been an abandoned gas station, but this wasn't apparent to me at the time. I realized that they had stolen my wallet, and I had no money. (In reality, it was in my glove compartment.) In desperation, I put the battery back in my phone, and ... it had a signal! Feverishly, I phoned my 14 year old brother, Taylor. He didn't pick up. Then, I phoned my other brother, who was 17 ... and he answered!

"Hello?"

I was crying. I knew that this was the last time I would ever have the chance to talk to him, but he had no idea. He didn't know of the verdict of the worldview police, of how I was a fugitive of ideology and a free radical algorithm.

"Allen ... I love you. Can you tell Taylor I love him?"

"Mark, where are you? Are you ok?"

"Not really ... I'm out of gas somewhere in Texas."

"... somewhere in Texas. Can you be more specific? Do you need help?"

"Um ... I guess? Look, that's not the point. Just tell Taylor that I love him, will you? I think I might have had some kind of psychotic breakdown, but ... I really don't think so."

"Uhh ...."

"My phone is about to die, I need to go. I love you. Good bye."

"Bye?"

I realized that, if I was to succeed in my mission to reach my extended family in Dallas, pretty soon I was going to have to continue on foot, as I was out of fuel. However, there was one other person I had to call before I began my journey. My former girlfriend, Angela, who I proceeded to call and wake up at 5 in the morning.

"mmmhh ... hello?"

They were taunting me. This couldn't be her.

"I think I've had some kind of psychotic breakdown," I said.

"You sound like you're on drugs. Did you make it to the rave?"

"Yeah, but I had to leave. You won't believe me, but all of my friends turned out to be undercover cops."

"Wait ... you left all your friends? Where are you?"

I suspected that they were influencing her, using the voice of a girl I had loved to try to get me to disclose my location. I wouldn't fall for it.

"Uhh, don't ask me that. Are you real?"

"*laughs* Yes, I'm real," she responded. This made me feel a lot better. Maybe they didn't have total control over my reality after all. Maybe I had some power.

"Angela .... We had some good times, didn't we?"

"We had some GREAT times. And we'll have more great times."

"And those were real, too?"

"Yes, M, they were real. I'm glad they were real."

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw something that was not quite right. What was wrong with that sign? Initially, I thought it was a Texaco sign. And indeed, it was, but it was twisted around in such a manner that it appeared to violate the laws of physics. One of the two legs of the sign wasn't even attached to the ground, and it was kind of twisted around the other one in a spiral pattern. There is no way that that sign could actually be standing like that in the real world. They were still influencing reality. They had found me. I laughed like a madman. I had to get out of here quickly, before they were able to dispatch physical agents to accost me.

"Look I have to go. They're still after me. But ... I'm glad I had the time with you I did. Good bye, Angela."

"Call me back and let me know you're ok!"

And I took off. The LSD was finally beginning to wear off at this point, but I was still driven by many of the delusions that I had developed over the course of the night. For example, I still believed that I was being pursued by some kind of reality police. I managed to find some money in one of my friend's backpacks that they had left in my car, and a working gas station, albeit one that was not quite open yet. I thought that I should probably sober up a bit, anyway, so I
parked by the pumps and waited until it opened at 6AM. I was first in line at the register, right after a county sheriff, who didn't notice what I thought was an obvious intoxication.

By about 7:00, I realized that I had actually had some kind of paranoid psychotic breakdown, and, more importantly, that I had left a bunch of my best friends in an unknown location in east Texas with no ride home. I didn't really have any choice but to face my delusion and ... drive back to the rave!

This was the most glorious drive I have ever had. I realized that I was free, and was not going to prison, or to whatever apocalyptic end of the universe I had been envisioning a few hours before. I had also succeeded in not being arrested or killed while blazing down east Texas highways at absurd speeds, three in the morning, under the influence of LSD. And, most important of all,

I was ALIVE.

Afterward, my delusions persisted for several weeks. I had a bit of residual paranoia for a few months, about being watched by undercover police, but this gradually subsided. Once I got back to the rave, the guy that had sold me the acid informed me that his acid had been carefully metered out the night before to about 300 micrograms per hit, meaning that my friend A had survived a dose of 1200 micrograms.

Also, judging by this, most of the LSD that I've come across in this area of the US is probably about 30-40ug per hit, at the MOST.

Strangely, I feel that this experience helped to catalyze many of the life changes that I've brought about in the subsequent years. Whenever I attended Revenge of the Space Hippies, I was a fairly apathetic theater major at a very small school, and even such had only mediocre grades. This high dose of LSD gave me a glimpse of the true power of my mind, as well as a birds eye view of the past and the potential of my life. As of now, I'm an Organic Chemistry major at a large state school, and have an A average.

What's the moral of the story?

Don't ever take acid from strange people in strange settings, surrounded by strangers, unless you're ready for all the strange places your mind might take you!

Submitted that to Erowid a few months ago, but I guess it was too subjective for them or something, and they never put it up. It was an interesting experience for me, anyway, and I'm glad I had it.

Happy travels!

 

[SpecialK_]

Kapitan I loved that trip report, I'm surprised it wasn't approved. Thank you for the great read.

 

[ganuse]

Love reading about other peoples experiences. Here is my most intense.

1)large Rocket/bubble of Weed followed by a rocket/bubble of Salvia 20x Extract

2)In typical salvia fashion, I couldn't remember anything. This was probably my 3rd time having Salvia 20x, I had always taken it correctly, but this time was just different, probably due to the rocket.

3)Me, a close friend and my brother were in my room smoking rockets of skunk when my bro (referred to from now as "D") went to get his salvia. Me and friend "S" were up for tripping balls as was D.
So my mate went first with a rocket, and the typical salvia things happened. He started laughing and drooling and then ran into the spare bedroom and turned off the light, last I saw of him for a while.
I went next - my bro was sitting in front of me while I sat on my bed. He helped me pull the rocket and inhale the smoke correctly. I held it in until I started to drool and laugh.
My brother started to change colours and before long his head was spinning like a siren with lights shining out his eyes. Everything behind him looked like a roulette machine crossed with a carnival - this is why you shouldn't take salvia in a bright room, it was total sensory overload.
So I was looking at my brother spinning and shining, I completely forgot who I was. It felt like I was skipping through dimensions for eternity and I was seeing parallel versions of D. Parts of his body would be different, like turning into pirate hooks and other random things. I couldn't move, I was trying really hard to get back to my own dimension. Honestly - It felt like I would be lost forever, scattered across thousands of different realities. Then I started to come back - and gradually regained my mind, and the milder effects replaced the severe ones like bright colours, itchiness etc.
Needless to say, it scared me from doing Salvia for a year or so.

4) After the trip had ended, I attempted to tell my bro what had happened, in the gibbering salvia-ish way. His view of it: He was sitting in front of me, I had just taken the rocket. I started to laugh, and drool a bit, putting my hand up to wipe it away. Then I just went silent and sat still for 2 minutes straight, before gradually coming back to reality.

5)generally I smoke weed, used to smoke loads of huge ice bongs but not anymore. Salvia usually do 20x, on my own in the dark more recently (but now it's illegal in UK apparently).
Mushroom wise me and my friends always pick our own in october-ish, anywhere between 25-70 liberty caps each. Done it many times. Had weak LSD tabs 4 or 5 times before.

There was another time I took mushrooms with 2 very close friends and I started thinking about efficiency. All I could see was tubes, how humands are basically complex tubes with minds built for survival, and the world felt like a huge conveyor belt.

And woah, Kapitan, that story was incredible. Did you reconcile with the guy who's camera you smashed?

 

[Kapitan]

And woah, Kapitan, that story was incredible. Did you reconcile with the guy who's camera you smashed?

Thanks Yes, I did. It was only a disposable camera, so he wasn't too angry. I wish I hadn't smashed it, though, it would have been nice to have some pictures from that trip.

 

[drew87]

Hardest trip?

1) 2c-t-2 oral, repeated.

2)For a ridiculously short time after swallowing approx. 50 mg of 2c-t-2. I crossed a point at around T+30 min where I couldn't recall if I had taken something, if I was going crazy or dying.

3)I remember short clips, bits of memories, maybe a few seconds long, seperated by long stretches of nothingness. I remember the most random bits of nothing, but nothing that is truly useful.

Having previously used lsd and psilocybin in varying amounts, I thought I was prepared to take a bigger than average dose of 2c-t-2. Wrong. I was fine for about 3 hours, until I took another dose (both were approx. 25 mgs.) Bad decision for sure. Total freakout, out of control panic, and oev's so intense they blocked my vision. Woke up in a hospital with charcoal in my stomach and a tube in both my nose and dick. Intense hallucinations and plenty of visuals for 6 hours after I came to. Strapped down, sedated, a pretty fucked up experience. It put the fear of god in me (so to speak).

 

[LogicSoDeveloped]

I was tripping on 2 hits of quality lucy, smoked k2 all of that evening (was on probie then), and when peaking on the dose, smoked DMT constantly for an hour and a half. When I started dreaming, I wasn't aware that the dream was not reality. I thought I had blinked but had slept for 6 hours. It was too intense to put into words really.