		 DOSE:

		 1 hit

		 LSD
		 (blotter / tab)

           BODY WEIGHT:
	   145 lb

My LSD experience was the craziest time of my life. Literally.

Prior to my first and only LSD experience I had been using marijuana for less than a year and I had tried coke twice, nothing else. I didn't even drink much before this year, I don't even like using pain killers and I don't take any prescription drugs.

I probably started doing drugs because I lost interest in following the rules, the established order, that had gotten me nowhere. After college I had no where to go. I was the perfect child and student, nothing exceptional, but nothing bad either.

After college I applied for the CIA (this becomes important). After being rejected I decided illegal substance use wasn't a big deal anymore.

I then got a job teaching English abroad where I met a lot of other English teachers, people who thought like me, people who were the most interesting, intelligent, amazing people I had ever met. And they were all drug users. It was because of them, and their stories, and their accomplishments, that I decided taking drugs would not screw up my life.

I was very close friends with Matt, Al, and Rich by the time I decided to try LSD with them. They had all taken acid, shrooms and other psychedelics before. I trusted them, especially Matt. He was older and more experienced and I was a little in love with him.

We jointly bought a sheet with ten tabs on it through Matt's local friend, we'll call him John. Of the ten tabs, I went in on one, John took three, Matt and Al each paid for two and Rich had the last two. John took his three almost immediately, the rest of us were waiting for the right time and place to take them together. It never came, we decided to do what we could and took them the night of Al's birthday, before some of us left the country. It was Monday night, around 11pm.

Although I originally planned on only taking half a tab, we all ended up taking extra dosages because the effects took so long to kick in, it was about an hour and a half before we felt anything. Bad idea.

I took one tab, Matt and Rich took one and a half, John took one, bought off of Matt and Rich, and Al took two.

I was completely unprepared for what would come. I did no research before hand, I hadn't understood what happened to other people when I heard their stories. All I knew about hallucinogens was that you saw things.

I saw some great things. Dragons in the clouds, fairies in the bushes, dinosaurs in the cobblestones. It was all beautiful and animated and great. Then I realized that everything I looked at was far and close at the same time, everything was big and small. I felt like I was in one of those model train set worlds.

I told everyone this and they just laughed at me. I told everyone I felt I hadn't been properly prepared for this. Rich said that no one ever is. I told them that I felt like I was sensing everything at once, or maybe I was in multiple dimensions at the same time. Rich looked at me seriously for a second and said “yeah, but you can't think like that” and then started laughing ridiculously. Everyone else started laughing too. “That was the perfect man,” Matt said. I didn't understand but I got lost in the visions again pretty quickly.

Until I got more and more upset that I couldn't understand anything! When I focused enough to talk again all I could say is “I have never been this out of my mind!” They just kept laughing and ignoring me. And they were playing frisbee! How could they play frisbee when it kept twisting in the air? I couldn't believe that they were tripping too. They were acting normal, just laughing a lot, and not catching the frisbee. At this point I was standing in the middle of the frisbee game, my hands half raised, staring at the dinosaurs moving around, crawling on each other. “I feel like someone's missing.” Rich said. I looked around, realized where I was. Shit. “You're talking about me!” I exclaimed, because I wasn't playing frisbee, and I was the only one tripping (or so I thought). There's no way I can play frisbee in this state of mind, they shouldn't be able to either.

I started to cry, because my mind was so fucked and I was pissed that these guys, who were supposed to be my friends, had gotten me into this without proper warning or taking any precautions. What if something bad happened! None of us would be able to handle it, none of us are sober! This was really stupid, I can't understand anything.  That's all I was thinking as I cried in despair. For about half a minute. Then I talked myself out of it. “Okay, this is stupid and useless, I can't act like this around these guys, especially Matt, I might as well enjoy these images while I'm stuck in this state.” “I still feel like someone's missing.” Rich said again. OH, I get it, I need to play frisbee, that's what he's trying to tell me. Playing frisbee was the best idea ever. It was something to concentrate on and it looked amazing. Even if I could never catch the damn thing. It kept twisting, getting smaller and bigger, and entering different dimensions.

I couldn't figure out why they would ever stop playing and they kept moving. I couldn't figure out how we got from one place to another. But it didn't matter anymore, it was just fun. We all stopped playing and gathered up. Not sure why. But while we were all huddled together in a group, one of the locals came up to us. He didn't speak much English, he only talked to John. I tried really hard to make sense of the situation. The stranger was trying to sell us a book, he said it was old, really old, he said he was a traveling scholar, just trying to make some extra money by selling it.

This is when my mind started to take off. I stopped seeing pretty, fun things. I started getting wrapped up in stories in my head. Paranoia and delusions started here.

“Why is he here, now, at this time of night?” was the best I could say to try to help the group realize that this was a scam. I thought they all understood: after all, no one was buying the book. Except John, he kept talking to the guy. And he almost sounded like he was trying to convince us that this book was worth buying.

“He's in on it! He got us the acid, he was using his cell phone all night, even though the rest of us chose to turn ours off to avoid freak outs, and he was trying to hide its use. That's why he was so adamant about buying a hit off of us. To make us believe that he is tripping too. He told this jerk where to find us while we are tripping balls! That asshole. Matt sees it, he knows we've been betrayed! He looks ready to kick his ass!” But Matt didn't.

Other things happened. I saw people in the shadows, they were cops. Now John was an undercover cop. And then Matt was too. Al, Rich and I were going to jail. Then everyone was undercover but me, I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. That's why Rich kept saying “I feel like someone's missing.” They were all working to bring down a huge drug ring, but they liked me enough that they were trying to find a way out for me.

I ended up running away from them, in order to save myself. Now I was alone and afraid. I even threw away my phone after Al texted “call us when ur safe.”

I sat down and cried, and thought. I thought about everyone who was involved. They were all in on it. Everyone I had met in this crazy country. But wait, that doesn't make sense. Something else is going on here. Something bigger, stranger. Then it struck me! I was never actually rejected from the CIA. My entire time abroad was a recruitment/training process. I had passed, this was the final test. I was in the CIA!

I became really happy, laughed at everyone and everything, everything I remembered about the past I made it fit into the puzzle. Every book I read, every person I met, everything that anyone said to me. It was all a part of some big master plan. I ran around the city looking for clues, playing games, talking to people, entering open doors and climbing on things. All because I believed I was in the CIA, the city I was in had become a movie set, and everyone in it was actors. The city became my playground as I enjoyed justifying everything that had happened in my life. Now all I needed to do was find the way out of this movie set in order to finish this final test. At one point I thought I was poisoned, I thought I might die, but I found an antidote. At other times I thought I needed to strip naked and run into the woods because of something a friend had said. At other times I thought I needed to walk home.

Eventually I decided I needed to climb up a brick smoke stack in order to see the boundaries of the movie set and to conquer my fear of heights. One of the guys I hung out with in this city (thus he was in on it too) said that everyone has a fear of heights and being alone. “Not everyone,” I thought, “just me. I need to get over those fears.” It was about 9am now. I climbed up the smoke stack. I got to the top, it was beautiful, I was happy.

But there was a commotion below me. The actors on this movie set had brought out a fire truck, presumably to get me down, but I knew it was fake. I climbed back down. There were police there now. I got to the bottom and I knew I couldn't let the police catch me. I ran away. But I wasn't quick enough, they caught me and I couldn't get away. “All right,” I thought, “they wouldn't capture me if I really wasn't supposed to be caught. I need to find another way out of this.” They took me into a nearby building.

Believe it or not, the nearby building, the place where the smoke stack was located, the place I chose to climb up to the highest height I could find, was on the grounds of a mental hospital.

I didn't think this was strange, I thought the room they took me into was just another set, full of more actors. They asked me if I have ever talked to a psychiatrist. No, I haven't. Oh, I get it, in order to get into the CIA I need to go through psychiatric therapy. They told me I have problems, that I'm depressed, that I have a death wish, that I've had lots of doctors (this, I thought, was referring all of the friends I had met here), that I'm not normal, that I need help. I thought all of this was about the problems I needed to get over, and how I'm special and that's why I'm in the CIA.

A lot more happened to me in the hospital. I was there until around 11am the next morning. I was in a mental hospital, I talked to mental patients, I acted completely insane, I was completely insane and I talked to the woman lying in the bed next to me about everything I thought I could consider a mental problem about myself. Except being crazy. The whole time I thought it was a game and/or a test. The test/game was to find a way out after I explored my psych. I was discovering things about myself, but a lot of it was bullshit I thought the CIA would want to hear. Like not wanting to do any more drugs.

They had to strap me down and give me drugs (I don't know what) to get me to sleep. In the morning things didn't make as much sense, but the fact that I was there, in this fake hospital, convinced me that everything I had been thinking was true.

Eventually I found a way out like a good spy should. I calmly talked to the staff about how I did not belong there, that if I had problems they should be taken care of in my country, that I had no insurance so they should get rid of my free loading. They had me sign a no consent form and let me go.

I walked back to my flat, started packing. The only clue left that was left, that I thought was right, was that I needed to go home by getting deported.

I hadn't eaten or slept much, at all. I ate, then slept, before actually packing. When I woke up it was because Matt, Rich and Al were outside, making noise, looking for me. They told me they had filed a missing person's report, they asked what happened to me, I lied. I asked what happened to them, I thought they were lying.  None of it made sense. I thought I would never see them again. What were they doing here? I was confused and wanted to be alone, but I knew I needed to talk to them. I did. Only a few times did they say things that I could fit into my story. Nothing was making as much sense as it did before.

It was about 48 hours after I had first ingested the LSD. I stayed with my friends, I started to think that maybe, just maybe, I could be crazy. But the hospital. That was real. How could that be?

I finally asked to talk to Matt alone. I didn't know how to start, I still thought I should be playing the game, not telling the truth, I'm a spy... I think...

“What's up?” he said.

“You know how you said that if you're really crazy you won't know it?”

“Yeah...”

“Well, either I'm crazy, or you're in the CIA.”

I looked at him, waiting for someone to finally really confirm everything for me. His reaction was not what I was hoping for.

“What? There's no way that's possible.”

“Then am I crazy?”

“Is that what you're asking me!?”

“Okay, let me tell you why I think that. I'm going to tell you what actually happened to me...”

I told him. I was convinced. But he just kept shaking his head, and occasionally saying “fuuck” and “LSD is a powerful drug.” I was still trying to convince him. But as I went through my story I occasionally saw myself as other people must've during that time. I got to the end of my story. “None of that was real.” he told me. He had to tell me again and again. We had to go through specific things. “None of it.” He told me.

I broke down. It took another day before I was fully out of it. Before I could think straight again.  It's been about a month now. I think it took that long for me to feel completely grounded in reality.

I never imagined that I could ever go that far out of my mind.

Now I really believe in the value of LSD for psychiatric purposes. I was in a very good state of mind when I took it, the only pressing issue for me has been what to do with my life and I feel like I received some valuable insight about that, at the very least.

In the end, I think it was an amazing experience. Amazing. I faced all of my fears, I realized what was important to me, I realized I do not want to be in the CIA, and considering no real damage occurred, I had a great time. I had the time of my life.

I feel like I should never do LSD again, my brain and LSD do not seem to get along. But I want to. I want to play frisbee and see dinosaurs and dragons dancing around in the clouds and bushes. Unfortunately, the fear of going psychotic again is still strong and will probably stop me for a long time.

Exp Year: 2008	ExpID: 73806

Gender: Female

Age at time of experience: Not Given

Published: Jan 2, 2013	Views: 44,205

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LSD (2) : First Times (2), Bad Trips (6), Unknown Context (20)


		 DOSE:
 T+ 0:00
		 3 hits

		 LSD
		 (blotter / tab)

		   T+ 0:00
		   repeated
		 smoked
		 Cannabis

		   T+ 0:00
		   repeated
		 oral
		 Alcohol - Beer/Wine

		   T+ 8:00
		   repeated
		 smoked
		 Cannabis

           BODY WEIGHT:
	   180 lb

I was back from college in my hometown for Christmas. It started off like a normal day. I woke up around 1 or 2 pm, laid on the couch with some food and vegged-out. Around 4 o’clock that night a good friend of mine, M, called me and said that he was on his way back into town at the moment and asked if I wanted to hang out with an old high school buddy that went to school downtown and have a few brewskis and a bowl or two. Elated to have something to do in this boring town, I agreed and hurried to meet him ignoring my dad in the den as he yelled at me not to stay out to late. I went by the liquor store with a fake ID and picked up a case of beer, cigarettes, and a bottle of rum. We drove downtown to C’s apartment and began to drink with C, B (a high school friend who was squatting in C’s room) and J, C’s roommate who we knew fairly well.

About 6 o’clock, C and J disappeared and came back an hour later with 22 hits of blotter and two more people I had never met before. At first sight they looked incredibly sketchy (I quickly learned that these were some of the coolest and funniest people I will ever meet) but I decided not to say anything until I met them.

I am a strong believer that an acid trip can go however you want it to, it’s all in your head. Because of that, I find spontaneity when taking acid improves the overall trip. Rather than someone planning it for a long time, getting really excited and then not having a great trip which is really, really annoying. And since I had had absolutely no intention to take a dose that night, I felt it was a great time to take some.

We stood in a silent circle around the acid, frozen in silent awe at our awesome score. 22 hits for $160. We divided them evenly between the 8 people, except for B who took four (no one wants to be around B on 4 hits of acid).

C and J didn’t have an TV in their apartment so to pass the time we turned some music on, cut the lights, plugged in a multi-colored disco ball, and played drinking games and smoked weed to pass the time during that Acid Hour until we came up. After an hour and 15 minutes we started to get pissed that it wasn’t working. We certainly felt it, but there were no visuals. Usually, I try to forget about the acid and let it come on by itself. But this unwatched pot was not boiling. I decided to get up and walk around, get the blood flowing. I knew it probably wouldn’t do anything but I didn’t care.

Standing up, I walked throughout the apartment, stopping randomly to stare at something and try to make it move. Mostly blank stretches of walls or a cool looking pattern on the carpet. I rounded the hall corner and walked into C’s bedroom. I glanced around for something trippy to look at but found nothing. And then I saw it. It wasn’t anything special in fact. I had to do a double take because it was so mundane of an object. Stuck to C’s wall was one of the most well-known posters today. It was a black and white portrait of Jim Belushi from Animal House with the signature COLLEGE shirt on. But as I looked at the poster, a very small fuzzy, grayish-blackish dot appeared in the center of his face. I stared at it a little bit longer, wondering what this thing was about to do next.

The spot began to grow so that it covered his entire face. I remained there, 2 feet from the wall, staring at this perfectly normal poster with the most confused look on my face. I stared at if for a few more seconds when M walked in, going to use C’s bathroom. He stopped halfway across the dim room, the only light coming through the hallway door. “What the fuck are you doing in here in the dark?” “Wondering why Jim’s face is gone and been replaced by a black hole.” I replied nonchalantly, still staring the into the darkness over the actor’s face. M burst out laughing, but not a normal laugh, this one was louder and more prolonged than usual. I concluded that M had started tripping too. “You trippin?” “I'm getting there. I saw some stuff move a minute ago but I was going to look in the mirror. But now I really want to see this black hole.” “Ha ha, it’s weird. I know his face is there, but I can't see it at all.” “Well what is there?” “Nothing, that is what is so cool. His face is made of nothing, if nothing was a substance. Imagine a static screen on a TV, but frozen still and melting slightly.” M looked at me an laughed again, “Dude, if I wasn’t on three, that would have been the most absurd thing I have ever heard, but I think I know what you are talking about.”

We stood up and walked into the incredibly bright bathroom. We stood next to each other, staring into what seemed like a carnival mirror that I could bend with my mind. After making the mirror bend so much I felt like throwing up, and gasping for air between laughter, I dragged my self, now fully tripping, coming up strong and fast, from the bathroom and “crawled” into the den flat on my stomach, because I though that if I stood up, booby traps hidden in the wall would pop out and attack me.

The rest of the night consisted of a blur of visuals from the disco ball and Christmas ornaments hung by invisible fishing wire from the ceiling with moments of clarity as we ventured outside the apartment into the half indoor/half outdoor hallways that made up the apartment building. We got lost several times in the labyrinthine hallways that seemed to stretch forever in both directions. Every once in a while, one of us would get left behind, sitting in a corner staring at something that no one else could see, only to round a corner with a resounding scream as they walked directly into the rest of the group. Around 1am, J had an idea to go to the top of the parking deck that was attached to the building and look at the sky scrapers of downtown Birmingham and look at the stars and get some fresh air. We rode the elevator to the sixth floor, and as we stepped out, it was like walking into an arena. The ceiling and walls melted away to reveal nothing but black sky above with hundreds of tiny stars. The always lit lights on the city’s skyscrapers illuminated patterns on their sides. It didn’t take me long to realize that I could control the height of each of the skyscrapers, and make them move up and down in rhythm. From somewhere, “Timezones” by Widespread Panic floated into my head as the skyscrapers started to dance. They shot up and down going from 2 stories to 150 instantaneously, rising and falling to the beat of the music.

I was told later that I stood on the top of that parking deck in 25 degree weather and bad winds, staring out at the city long after the others had left, from 1:00 til around 2:45 when someone came up to get me. I think when on the trip from the roof back to the room was when I began to stop having intense visuals. Really the only visuals I had for the rest of the night were still there, but not nearly as pronounced. But as the visuals began to stop, a whole different wave washed over me. I regained a sense of my self and started the hardest mental trip I have ever had.

The wee hours of the morning from when I came back to the room till around 6:30 am consisted of 7 people, 2 of who I had only met 15 minutes before eating their dose, crammed into a tiny bedroom with no chairs and the lights out. We sat and smoked, and talked about acid and smoked and talked about how life was like a movie, just not about us, and smoked...you get the idea.

At about 5:00 we decided to go back to the roof one more time to watch the sunrise. I honestly have never witnessed a more incredibly, breathtaking beautiful sight as the sun coming up over Red Mountain and shining down on the buildings below us and the skyscrapers in the distance. As the sun rose, shooting streaks of orange, red, and dark purple across the sky, it shone through a huge long fluffy cloud, flushing it with color. Everyone of us, all seven, saw a colored dragon head of the exact same description a the same time form in the clouds and cruise across the sky.

Around 6:30am, J had the great idea to get everyone thinking about food. Now, normally, I’m not hungry when I am on acid, but he made Micky-D’s biscuits sound so good. So at about 7:15, still tripping incredibly hard, myself, J, and J’s friend and his girlfriend tried to prepare our selves mentally for what we were about to do. The biscuits were a 3 block walk, through 10 crosswalks round trip, and an entire downtown industrial section of the city getting up to go to work. We opened the gate and walked out side into the morning sunlight, walked about 8 steps to the first crosswalk, looked at the morning commuters that were whizzing by, starting their day and going through their day to day problems and realized that there was a real world out here and were were tripping way to hard to do this right now. We did it any way. We walked in the freezing cold and with giant pupils the three blocks to the restaurant. Upon arrival, we realized that we couldn’t go in and risk someone seeing us do something crazy. So we sat, diagonally across the street from a police department, cops driving by about once ever 45 seconds, in the freezing cold and tried to suppress our psychedelic delusions as we ate steaming butter biscuits.

We made the trip back to the apartment without incident, but that...

WAS WHEN DISASTER STRUCK!

Sitting in J’s den at about 8:00, my cell phone rings. At first I dismiss my ringtone to the acid, but it rang again and this time my friends asked my if it was mine. I looked at the caller on the front of the phone. “Mom” it read. It took about 20 seconds for me to remember what went wrong. I remembered something vague, a voice, telling me something, OH NO my dad telling me not to stay out late, and I had not come home. Maybe not with you, but I have a very strict set of parents, if they had found out what I was doing, I could kiss my next semester at college good bye. I fell into a bad trip instantly. I couldn’t figure out how I was going to get out of it and I panicked, the acid just magnified it. The walls began to close, I got short of breath, and a huge well of anger rose up. I stormed out of the apartment and screamed and hurled my phone against the ground, shattering it. My friends dragged my inside and calmed me down. Soon, with a great help from the acid, I accepted my fate and decide to not let it get me down for now. But then I began to think of the situation from an objective point of view to try and search for an answer. Lo and behold, I found one. I pieced together a story that would satisfy my parents questions and any snooping with my friends parents they might do and enjoyed the rest of the trip, my parents took the story, and my only punishment was that I was not allowed to go to sleep that day, and spent it doing errands and yard work for my parents.

But looking back on it, this experience made me respect acid, how fun and fickle it is, but also how it lets me look at things from an entire different perspective.

Exp Year: 2007	ExpID: 68795

Gender: Male

Age at time of experience: Not Given

Published: Jan 4, 2013	Views: 10,503

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LSD (2) : General (1), Small Group (2-9) (17)


		 DOSE:

		 1 hit
		 oral
		 LSD
		 (blotter / tab)

		   repeated
		 smoked
		 Cannabis
		 (plant material)

           BODY WEIGHT:
	   140 lb

My third acid trip (and third psychedelic experience in general) was a strange one. At only a single hit, it wasn’t intense enough to be a bad trip per se, and only at times was it difficult, but it was consistently uncomfortable, frustrating, and unfulfilling. Prior to this, in addition to two other acid experiences, I had been smoking cannabis for two years or so, and had experimented with DXM and salvia, both of which were largely unsatisfying. What I have learned throughout my fairly limited drug experience is that I am not one to enjoy getting fucked up or confused, and even weed can be unpleasant for me if not used in the right context.

What I perceived to be my set and setting before dropping were very different from what the trip revealed to me about my mindset, so I’ll revisit this later on when I analyze the trip. This took place during my spring break, Freshman year of college. The year had been good to me; I had wonderful friends, a great girlfriend, countless fond memories, and for the first time in quite a while, I felt that I was in a very good place psychologically. I was in a cabin in the Smokies with my nine closest college friends (my girlfriend was not present) and was enjoying myself immensely. The day before had been spent drinking, smoking weed, and enjoying the scenery and company. The day of the trip was lazy and unhurried. I had smoked a bowl in the morning, but by the time I dropped around 1, I wasn’t feeling anything. Other than that, there was no alcohol nor any medications in my system.

In my past acid experiences, the body high came at roughly the same time as the onset of the psychological effects, so I was surprised and a bit worried when just seconds after placing the hit under my tongue, the bitterness from the acid spread to my neck, back, and jaw and I started to feel the familiar cold tension. I tried to push the feeling out of my mind, but after a few minutes I grew worried and swallowed the hit to soften the onset. On my last trip, because the body load and the hallucinations hit at about the same time, I was too amazed by the trip to notice the uncomfortable feeling. This time however, I had nothing to think about except the body high for quite some time.

About 20 minutes after dropping, I went with a few friends to a small creek across the street from our cabin. I realized that my eyes must have dilated somewhat, because the light outside was very intense, and while I wasn’t hallucinating yet, everything had taken on a certain presence and glow. After a few minutes of sitting by the stream, I noticed that I was feeling quite anxious. This will pass, I thought - it’s normal to feel anxious when waiting for a trip to start. While my friends were hopping across the rocks to the other side, I felt incapable of jumping out, and moved slowly with excessive caution along the side. The cars that occasionally passed by also made me nervous. Though they presented me no threat, they were too close and too alien. Wishing to calm myself down, I crossed the street and climbed our steep driveway back up to the cabin.

Sitting on our porch (probably at around 35-40 minutes, but all times after this are estimated), I asked my companions if they were feeling anything yet. Most shook their heads or muttered something about the brightness, and I got the impression I was hit harder than anyone else. Looking over the railing of the porch, I saw the patterns on a rock shift slightly. Did I just get a visual? I looked at it again, and found it moving gently. I looked to my friend E. “Are you getting any visuals yet?” “No, are you!?” she responded with a grin. I nodded, but didn’t share her enthusiasm. I was having an extremely difficult time ignoring the body load. My long hair falling around my neck, combined with the typical neck tension of LSD was producing a crawling sensation all around my neck and back. In addition, I felt very cold, with a certain emptiness in my chest, as though the warmth I needed would have to come from the inside.

For the next few hours, all of the people tripping (8 in total, 2 of my friends had declined because of recent difficult trips) moved back and forth between the porch and the driveway. For the most part, the group acted as a unit, unanimously deciding every once in a while that the current location had ceased to be entertaining and that it was time to move. By this point I was well into my trip. The experience was mild enough for me to stay on top of my anxieties, but I couldn’t get over the discomfort of the body high. I was confused and frustrated, and kept waiting for the moment when I would break through and start rolling with the trip instead of fighting it. Because of this, I was usually a few minutes behind the movement of the group. When they would giddily migrate to another spot, I would remain with J, who was on two hits instead of one and so was less inclined to move, or talk to the two who weren’t tripping.

Whenever I did join the conversations of the larger group, I always perceived that the conversation was turning morbid. When I asked about this afterwards, few people remembered clearly what they had been talking about, and few recalled any particularly dark conversations, so I think this was mostly in my head. At any rate, when I tried to join the group, the topic (or what I perceived to be the topic) would invariably turn to something that caused me great anxiety. Not wishing to talk about death or ugliness or whatever it was I thought they were talking about, I would leave and try to find a more comforting conversation. For a little while, I talked with T, who wasn’t tripping, about what I felt. I told him that I wasn’t just feeling the typical acid cold, but a sort of spiritual cold. He was understanding and helped talk me through it, but when I realized that he was a little drunk, I got anxious and left.

I spent little time in the interior of the cabin, because it set off my hallucinations too much. The bare wood grain of the walls crawled about in an overwhelming way. The faux-rustic theme of the cabin meant that everything was intensely textured, so there was nothing in view that wasn’t moving or pulsating in some way. In addition, the geometry of the building was confusing to me. While it had felt comfy the day before, the layout seemed awkward while tripping.

At one point, maybe three hours in, T challenged me to a game of checkers. At the time, I thought a friendly game would be perfect to take my mind off my anxieties. After a few moves, I was relieved to find that the basic idea of the game was still familiar to me, though planning into the future was a somewhat alien concept. Then, after a foolish move on my part, T got a double jump. This was too much for me. His army was advancing too fast. My black pieces were no match for the unstoppable assault of his reds. In retrospect, it’s really quite funny that I got so worked up about a simple game, but in my addled state I had no choice but to concede and flee to the comfort of the porch.

There, drawing closer to my peak, I found myself in a thought loop that would shed some light upon the whole trip. There are things that still need to be taken care of, I thought to myself. There are things that still need to be taken care of. I had the overwhelming sense that the carefree attitude shared by my companions in our mountain paradise was false – that there are real issues that we were missing in our celebration. It would be weeks before I was able to dig into the real meaning of this through discussions with my friends. I’ll get into that later.

I moved back to the driveway where the majority of the group had landed once again. It was commonly felt that we were peaking. My friends were in ecstasy, staring at the clouds and the trees overwhelmed by awe. I felt detached, like I couldn’t get myself on the same wavelength, like I was having an entirely different trip. Suddenly, a large black truck pulled into our driveway. I took us all a moment to realize what was going on. Our cabin shared a driveway with another, and these were our neighbors arriving for the first time. At the time, they were purely alien – invaders that encompassed every idea of “other.” We panicked. With a steep drop off on one side of the drive and a steep incline on the other, there was nowhere to go but up. We scrambled in utter confusion to the door of the cabin as 4 other cars, all black, followed the first.

Jesus Christ! Who are they!? Do they know we’re tripping? What are they going to do to us!? Why can’t they leave us alone? I have often found that whatever one experiences during the peak of a trip defines the subsequent reconstruction of the psyche; for the remainder of the trip, everything would hinge around the moral dichotomy I formed around US and THEM - the invaders, the aggressors, the others. I fled into the cabin. Fuck! Are they following? Are they in the house!? I made my way back to the porch where all of the trippers had congregated. Though I was by far the most stunned of the group, everyone was babbling about THEM. We found ourselves in a collective thought loop, with the topic of conversation recursing upon itself every few minutes. The focal point of the loop was the concept of US and THEM.

My friend A, an experienced tripper, put on some Carlos Santana and told us not to worry about THEM. All that mattered was US, we should just pretend that THEY don’t exist and focus on the music. This worked for a while, and I had the first of a few brief moments of peace during the trip. I was pleasantly overwhelmed by the rolling percussion and joyous improvisation I heard. Wrapped in an old blanket that I had brought along - the only relief I could get from the chemical chill of the acid - I shook a tiny maraca to the beat with childlike joy. I also reached a point in the trip that was familiar with from last time – the point at which the hallucinations start to make sense. Yes, this is what acid is supposed to look like, I thought. The shapes and colors had a distinctively “acid” theme as opposed to the overwhelming collage of motion and distortion I had experienced before.

We sat there on the porch listening to music for several hours. I took some comfort in knowing that the peak had passed and that I had managed to keep The Fear in check. The body load was still very uncomfortable, but I got the feeling of stoic endurance, as when one goes through a whole day with a somewhat painful but bearable injury. There were also some really funny moments during this time, mostly due to the antics of the non-trippers, who were by this point quite drunk. When I compared the pleasurable moments of this trip with the good parts of my last, however, I was troubled. While the joy of my last trip was in the pure wonder and absolute awe at the magnitude of my experience and its spiritual/philosophical implications, this trip offered only hysterics. Certainly it was fun to cackle with hilarity at my friends, but there was little for me to think about or remember about it.

I also smoked another bowl during this time. I didn’t notice much about the combination, only that it seemed to pull some of the haziness of the cannabis high over the clarity of the acid high. The remainder of the gradually declining trip had this blunted quality to it, but few other elements that I associate with being stoned. The night proceeded fairly uneventfully. As the trip faded, we all grew hungry and somehow managed to make some good rice, though I was pretty useless in the cooking process. Afterwards we watched a movie and I went to bed early because fighting the body load all day had really taken it out of me. I wasn’t very tired because of the acid, but I desperately wanted to be in bed, to be alone in a quiet, comfortable place.

Looking back on this trip, it is clear that the main reason for my anxiety was the body high. Some of my friends attribute this to bad acid while others insist that there is no such thing. One friend speculated that on one hit, I never broke through and achieved the immersion that would have allowed me to ignore the discomfort. As for the thought loop – there are things that still need to be taken care of – I have drawn several conclusions that shed a lot of light on my life as a whole. I learned, partly with the aid of this trip, that failing to fulfill my obligations is one of my biggest anxieties in life. I also realized that as a 19 year old college student, it is often difficult for me to discern exactly where my responsibilities leave off and where my caretakers’ responsibilities begin. What should I have to do for myself? What am I justified in expecting of my parents? The blurred, ever-shifting line between needing to take care of myself and needing things to be taken care of for me is something that this trip really opened my eyes to. I also realized that set and setting can only be used to predict a trip insofar as one truly understands them. The tripping perspective on one’s situation can be so radically different from the sober perspective that what seems like the perfect time and place to trip may not be at all.

Exp Year: 2008	ExpID: 70489

Gender: Male

Age at time of experience: Not Given

Published: Jan 10, 2013	Views: 17,326

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LSD (2), Cannabis (1) : General (1), Combinations (3), Difficult Experiences (5), Nature / Outdoors (23), Music Discussion (22), Hangover / Days After (46), Small Group (2-9) (17)


		 DOSE:
 T+ 0:00
		 3 hits
		 oral
		 LSD
		 (blotter / tab)

		   T+ 0:10
		 2 hits
		 oral
		 LSD
		 (blotter / tab)

           BODY WEIGHT:
	   170 lb

Three and a half years later I am recalling this event. I have experimented with many different drugs, most on just one occasion or two if I felt the first time I had not gotten the full experience.

The one and only time I took LSD was in the summer of 2004, at the age of 19. I had been curious of LSD initially about 3 years earlier in high-school. I grew up in the far south suburbs of Chicago. A lot of my friends had tried it when I was about 16 with interesting reviews. But when I decided to join in the fun was just when the supply disappeared for 3 years, unlike any drought that anyone around had heard of, and I knew all the right people with reaching connections. There just wasn't any around. I've heard it had to do with an extremely large bust of a nationwide supplier around that time. Anyways after 3 years a reliable friend and source attending DePaul University offered an opportunity. A friend of mine and myself after consuming nearly a 750ml bottle of Ketel One Vodka with red bull decided to take the 1 hour drive to DePaul to get some LSD.

 [Erowid Note:
Driving while intoxicated, tripping, or extremely sleep deprived is dangerous and irresponsible because it endangers other people. Don't do it!]

We had taken Psilocybin mushrooms before, I having had some wild trips, but him seeming extremely resilient to them. My friend Matt hardly tripped at all from a quarter ounce of shrooms months previously that caused everyone else to trip hard from an eighth ounce.

When we got to DePaul in Chicago there were about six others who took the blotters, 1, 1 and a half, up to 2 a piece. The price was $10 each for a rare opportunity. My friend Matt and I being drunk wanted to buy 10 for $90 and take them all. The supplier would not negotiate but did give us 10 for $100 after we promised to only take 2 each. We lied, we initially blatantly took 3 each in front of the group just as they began to peak from 1 or 2 each. We were drunk and not thinking straight. Then after 10 minutes when it hadn't kicked in we decided that it must be weak and took the rest. 5 blotters each for our first times.

My compassionate dealer/friend knew we were fucked way before we did. He wasn't compassionate enough to supervise us for the next 10 hours, apparently he had a test in the morning, but he did give us some soothing advise as the beast began to kick in 30 minutes later. My friend and I were escorted outside to a corner convenience store and told that no matter how intense our trip got that within 12 hours it would be over no matter what. Our trip, mine and my friend Matt's were coming up so fast that we needed that reassurance. Simultaneously our drunkenness was coming down. After my dealer/friend left us even after I begged him not to, myself and Matt sat in his parked Jeep on the corner in the University Dorm area freaking out as our trips escalated. We went from being shocked at the intense come up to being very scared very quickly. For each of us our only safety valve was each other, and our cell phones, both with less than full battery charge.

Describing the drug effects we had at this time is difficult, especially his, since I am not him. I personally remember helplessness. I knew I couldn't mingle with people without them seeing that I was really fucked up. I knew I couldn't relax, we felt that were unsafe there from, and unsafe from any outside human interaction, especially police. My only comfort was that I wasn't alone. Matt began calling his closest friends, all the while we were sitting in his parked Jeep. He was telling them how fucked up he was, scared, and in need of help, but unable to describe where he was or how he/we could be helped. He actually attempted to call the pastor at his families church, which he had on speed-dial. It was unsuccessful.

We began to talk about how what we were doing was so wrong and how we we're putting our kids at jeopardy, the kid's being the most important thing. I had a 1 year old at the time, he had one on the way. I have never been more horrified. Matt's cell phone began to beep from a low battery. I just didn't want to face this trip, when seemed to be gaining intensity exponentially, alone. My vision was distorted, my mind distorted 10 times worse. Then Matt tells me that he has to go home. I begged him not to, I told him he wouldn't make it 2 blocks, he would crash, and end up in jail or a mental institution when the authorities found him in his condition. I couldn't talk him out of it and wouldn't not go with him. He took off, speeding away, nearly going off the road into a road sign 30 some feet ahead before squealing around the corner and out of sight.

 [Erowid Note:
Driving while intoxicated, tripping, or extremely sleep deprived is dangerous and irresponsible because it endangers other people. Don't do it!]

I was alone, scared to death to have any interaction with another human, who I felt would surely see I was insane, and I would be arrested, interrogated (which seemed like it would be worse than a beheading), and put into an insane asylum. I came to the conclusion that I had to just keep on going until the trip ended. It was torture and I knew it would be an eternity. It was pitch black, everywhere I looked I seen some sort of a threat, paranoia, hallucination, darkness. It was midnight and I was in an area just off campus with very few lights and campus security that at the time seemed to me like the most threatening vehicle imaginable cruising past about to stop me at any moment. There was no way possible that I could speak to a person in my state.

My cell phone was my only lifeline, it was low on batteries but provided the time. My only hope was the time, that it would pass enough until my trip became manageable. I would look at my cell phone and see a time of 12:47, I would walk what seemed like hours, pacing around neighborhood sidewalks that seemed to take the will that climbing Mount Everest would. I knew I had to keep on moving no matter how endless it was, it was my only hope to live out the remaining 60 or so years of my life in the manner that I was accustomed. I would look to my only lifeline, my only hope for inspiration that some time had passed and I was closer to the come down. I would resist looking at my phone as long as possible so that when I did more time would have passed. Then when I finally did, it would read 12:48. One minute of actual time passed had been such a mental labor that another 12 hours seemed beyond impossible. Although I had never been very religious, I turned to a higher power in my time of need, and thought of my son to get through the next 5 torturous hours.

Then within minutes of sunrise at 5-something a.m. My entire world transformed from hell to an uneasy but improving heaven. The sunlight shined upon building and trees. I had the great privileged of walking through the DePaul public plant and flower garden area. It was the most beautiful place I had ever experienced. At around 6 a.m. I entered this public area that had to be an extension of the DePaul horticulture department that euphoriated me in an unimaginable way. The paranoia was subsiding while at the same time the visual hallucination had become more vivid than everything in the fresh sunlight, on a dewy 60 degree early morning. I was learning to control my trip to make plants and buildings come to life, to move and breathe in a way that was more satisfying and entertaining than the greatest sexual encounter of a lifetime, and I'm a borderline sex addict. More people began to flood the streets gradually that morning just as I was gradually more comfortable to see them in passing.

While this part of the trip was so addicting I also at the same time knew that I had to get home. I was exhausted, has a disgusting layer of abnormal sweat covering my entire body, was freezing to the core after a night of 50 degrees in jeans and a T-shirt, and longed for the comfort of home and my bed. I attempted to ask for connecting train directions to the suburbs at an entrance to one of the smaller lines I encountered, but when I approached the woman at the window her face morphed, and I couldn't get a word out. I ran away after my mouth wouldn't work. I was still too fucked up to figure out train routes, ask for directions/help, or work a pay phone.

An hour later I built up the nerve to ask another train employee at a different stop for instruction but just as before could not speak when I approached her, I mumbled and then briskly escaped. It must have about 11 a.m. when I finally was able to get a hold of my long lost friend Matt, who had left me hours earlier. I reached him from a payphone to his cell, and to my honest amazement he actually made it home, 40 miles in his state. I thought he would have crashed for sure. He told me it took him 4 hours to get back, a 1 hour drive, he said he had gotten lost all over the city, gotten direction from the homeless, and from addicts. He nearly crashed repeatedly, couldn't see anything but shiny lights on the expressway, but somehow made it home. And somehow made it back to get me around 3 p.m. After about 15 pay phone calls to his cell while he was en route for about a combined 60 total. In our states' of mind it was not easy to give or receive good directions.

Overall it was one of the greatest experiences of my life, in ways that I'm at a loss to describe with words. It is an experience that I am extremely grateful to have had and do have come out of safely. I have not taken LSD since then in the past 4 years or so, but may be open to it in the future. It seems nearly impossible to get as much out of a potential future trip as I did from my first. I'm not ruling out another experience of this magnitude, but if I never trip again at least I will know that I definitely did not go through life without having a REAL trip!

Exp Year: 2004	ExpID: 69082

Gender: Male

Age at time of experience: 19

Published: Jan 11, 2013	Views: 20,337

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LSD (2) : Alone (16), Difficult Experiences (5), First Times (2)


		 DOSE:

		 7 g
		 oral
		 Mushrooms
		 (ground / crushed)

		 4 hits
		 oral
		 LSD

           BODY WEIGHT:
	   185 lb

Age: 19

Date: October 10th, 2011

Dose: 7g mushrooms + 4 hits LSD

I had done LSD twice prior to this experience, and mushrooms three times. I had tripped quite a lot on 2C-E as well as salvia. I considered myself moderately experienced with psychedelics. I had never tripped very deep, even with up to 75mg of 2C-E. I was very eager to get a really deep meaningful experience. I'd heard that tripping alone would allow your mind to really let go, to not have someone there with you to ground you in reality. Well, from my experience that's completely true.

It was the day before thanksgiving. I had just bought 7g of mushrooms and 4 hits of LSD from a friend. I don't really know why I decided to trip that night. It was one of the worst times I could've done it (the day before thanksgiving, lots of stuff to do the next day with family). I initially was going to do it at 9PM but kept putting it off telling myself 'it's not a good time just wait till next week' well by 11PM I decided 'fuck it!'. I took my 7g of mushrooms and ground them to a powder. I used them to brew a mushroom tea. I flavoured it with orange juice and sugar. It tasted pretty good. I took the 4 hits of LSD while drinking my brew.

Within 15 minutes I could feel my stomach twisting and turning. Bubbling on the inside. The mushrooms were at work alright. At the 30 minute mark I could see the classic mushroom visuals. I looked at my cement floor, a liquid texture, a lot like a bowl of soup. I had never seen visuals this 'loose' before. I shook my head and the world jiggled like a bowl of jell-o. I spent the next 15 minutes looking at items around my room and shaking my head. I decided to put on some psytrance to get myself in the right mindset.

At the 45 minute mark it was only getting more intense. My visuals had taken on a pink/purple hue. I turned off the lights because it was starting to bother me. The colours weren't as noticeable in the dark, but I found it almost impossible to see anything but my t.v or computer screen. My vision was polluted with a fuzzy texture much like that of static on a tv. I spent the next 10 minutes or so trying to get comfortable and fighting the worsening stomach pains. At about an hour in I felt like the LSD was kicking in. My trip briefly took on a much lighter happier feeling. I turned the lights back on and decided to play my guitar. I felt like I was playing some really beautiful stuff, but it was probably just the drugs. This whole time I was still trying to fight the stomach pains, but they were just getting worse and worse. Finally I had had enough, and had to run for a bucket I kept just in case something like this happened.

I puked three or four times, but it was strange. Usually when I puke it's very watery, a large amount, and I won't puke more than once. But this was different.... I was puking up very small amount and it was all grey mush. It kind of weirded me out because I had just drank that tea so why wasnt there any water coming out? This sent me into a bad mindset, like something was wrong with me. I stumbled over to my bed to lay down and try to feel better, but I noticed that everything, and I mean everything, was moving. Usually when I trip I'll see things move or scurry along in the corner of my eyes, but this stuff was happening right in the center of my vision. I didn't like that at all. It's like my trip intensified 10x after I had puked. I got into bed, colours flying all over the walls. I felt things crawling up my legs but reasoned with myself it was just my sheets. I tried to keep calm and ride it out, telling myself that fighting it will only make things worse. I knew I was in this for at least 6 hours, so I tried my best to bring myself back to a happy place ... it wasn't working.

All I could think about is 'what have you done to yourself? why did you do this the night before thanksgiving? what kind of a drugged out loser does this kind of shit to themselves?'. It was just an endless cycle of that. I jump out of bed and run to my computer. I go to google and type in 'how to stop an lsd trip help me'. I can't even read the words on the screen. I don't know what happened. Maybe it was because I was in such a panic at the time, I have no clue. But it just made no sense to me why I couldn't read simple english words. I had been able to read them my whole life and now all of a sudden I'm no longer literate? At this point I thought I had lost my mind. I was convinced I had gone too far and had permanently wrecked my mind with the drugs I had taken. My mind filled with the voices of my friends and family saying things like 'i told you this would happen' 'why would you do this' 'you idiot' 'you're fucked now'. I pictured myself in a mental institution, locked away from society. My name and face in the paper with the headline: local teen perma-fried. I tried my best to keep my mind off this topic, telling myself everything will be fine it's just a drug and when it wears off you'll go back to normal... but in the back of my mind I KNEW I was lying to myself.

I spent what felt like hours trying to calm down. I browsed my favourite sites, justin.tv and youtube. I opened up a stream on justin.tv and saw a guy playing some sort of really fucked up computer game. Everyone was half naked and having sex and there were random things bouncing around... it was nothing that looked familiar to me and this really freaked me out because I didnt know if this was real or I was just imagining this. I looked at the stream's chat and everyone was extremely negative. Saying things like 'go kill yourself faggot'.

This really got to me. I kept picturing myself slitting my arms and chopping off my fingers. I couldn't get it out of my head. I was really worried I would actually do the stuff I was thinking... so much so that I had to go grab a pen and paper and write down 'do not hurt yourself!'. It seemed to help so I stuck it infront of my screen so I couldn't look away from it. I went back to looking up how to stop my trip, even thought I knew there was nothing I could do. I guess I got some sort of comfort out of trying. My thoughts only got worse and worse. I was still convinced I had lost my mind and there was no coming back, and that it was not safe for me to be alone as I might hurt myself for whatever reason. I was pacing back and forth in my room for at least 15 minutes just talking to myself. I looked at my clock and it was only 12:45AM. This blew my fucking mind because I thought it would be at least 3AM. That really discouraged me. I knew I was going to be triping for a very long time and if it was going this slow, it was going to be a nightmare.

The same process repeated itself. Me thinking I had lost my mind, pacing in my room, telling myself I'd be okay but actually thinking the complete opposite of that. It was now 1:30AM and I had had enough of this. I decided my only option was to go outside. My reasoning was nature would calm me down, I would be okay once I was away from my room. In my state I couldn't really feel my body all that well. I was constantly on tippy-toes and flexing my muscles. The idea of going outside and being okay sparked something in my mind. I started to feel better, no, I felt amazing. I was in a god-like state now. I was untouchable.

I sprinted upstairs barefoot and in pyjama pants. I decided to leave my shoes because I simply didn't need such things. Why would someone who is untouchable need shoes to protect their feet or a jacket to keep them warm? In my mind I pictured mountain lions ripping at my flesh, me laying on the ground unaffedted, immortal. I felt such a rush of power, like nothing I had ever felt before, something stimulants and other drugs simply couldn't even touch. I wrote a letter to my family telling them exactly what I had taken and what had happened. I told them I would leave them in peace for thanksgiving, and that I was sorry I had done this. My plan was to leave the house and go somewhere for 24 hours to see if I had lost my mind or not. If I did, I would live the rest of my life in isolation. I know how stupid that is but that's what I thought my options were.

I got outside. It was dark but I could see just fine. Colours filled my vision. I live in a quiet little neighbourhood. Mostly older couples with very young children. There's a railroad behind my house that passes through a forested area. I decided I would head for that. I was walking very slowly, like a cat burglar.I could feel the cold cement against my feet with every step. It felt amazing. The feeling rippled through my legs and out of my fingers. I was one with the ground I was walking on. I got to the fence and jumped over it with ease. I had the prowess of a tiger, I felt like I could do just about anything. I finally got the the forest. I found a small clearing and sat down cross legged.

I stared at the sky and the trees and felt the wind on my face. It was amazing. All my senses were boosted. Sight, smell, sound, touch, and taste. I cleared my mind and closed my eyes. I saw picture perfect images of anything I wanted. I could think of something and there it was. It was astonishing. I had never experienced anything like this before. I wanted to tell the world how amazing this was. I thought about running to my friends house and waking him to tell him about my experience, but quickly realized how bad that idea was. I then realized I had left a note to my family describing in great detail what I had done... oh shit. I need to get home. I shoudn't be outside in my pyjamas with no shoes on in the fucking forest. I jump up and run home. I don't know how long I spent in that forest but it was starting to get light out now.

I get home to find my mother there. She's read my letter and actually isn't reacting that bad. She's mad that I left the house and tells me how stupid/dangerous it was to go out in such a state. I'm amazed that she isn't freaking out right now. Images of my childhood flash in my head, me as a baby, as a child at the zoo, my mother caring for me. Im flooded with emotions and mostly the feeling of love. I tell my mom I love her and give her a big hug.

The next 30 minutes or so is spent sitting on the couch talking to my mom. I'm ranting about how money isn't really real, we just chose to believe in it. Time isn't real either, it's all just an illusion. Everything in the world is love, we are all connected. We are all just a mass spirit system. Death is nothing. At this point my mom is starting to get freaked out. I thought our conversation was going great but she's starting to see just how far gone I am. My step dad wakes up. This is where it starts to get bad. He storms downstairs and my mom tells him what I've done. I can see it in his face. Pure disgust. I can see him judging me, wishing I wasn't around. I can hear it in his tone as he talks to me. It eats away at me like maggots on a corpse. I try to put it at the back of my mind. I turn on the T.V and flip through the channels. At that moment something switched in my mind. I unlocked something. Just like the T.V changing channels, so could my mind.

I closed my eyes and flipped channels. Opened my eyes and I was somewhere else. It was unreal. I never imagined this could happen. I had read and heard about people tripping and seeing full on hallucinations but thought they might be exaggerating. Nope. This was real. I was teleporting all around the world with the bat of an eyelash. While I was doing this apparently my eyes had rolled back in my head and I had fallen to the ground. I don't remember any of this, just teleporting to different places all over the world. I was having a wonderful time. I switch channels back to reality, I see my mom holding me and singing amazing grace. This sort of chanting puts me into an almost shamanic trance. Her voice multiplied in my head and took over everything. I could hear a high pitched chime in the background that got louder and louder and eventually 'broke' my mind. It's really hard to explain, but that's the best way I can describe it.

Now everything is quiet, my mom is saying things like 'ok just be quiet you'll be alright'. I try to be quiet, but something isn't right. I have a feeling of pure anger and hate inside me. I'm seeing blown up babies, burned women and children, chopped up people, rapes, wars. Everything bad in the world is coming at me right now. I can feel the pain of every human being on this planet. I'm reminded of what I  earned about buddhism, the noble truth that life means suffering. I'm overwhelmed at this point. I dont have my eyes open and I don't remember much but I'm told that I flung myself onto the table where I landed onto a drinking glass and smashed it. This really scares me because that could have killed me... luckily I didn't get cut by the glass. This is really out of the ordinary because up until this point I've never been out of control like this. Not even overly drunk. I'm usually very good at that. Well my step dad had had enough and he phones the paramedics to get me.

On the phone I guess they heard me screaming in the background and because of that they had to bring the police as well. Well I had no idea this was happening so out of nowhere a bunch of cops and paramedics walk in and it's just the ultimate mind fuck. I can't describe what I felt at this time. It was basically a confirmation that everything I was experiencing was just in my mind, because why else would a bunch of cops and paramedics be in my house? With this 'knowledge' that it was all a dream and I was really not in any trouble at all I felt fucking fantastic once again. Now it was all a game. I had unlocked some sort of cheat code for my mind. They strapped me to the trolley and wheeled me out to the ambulance. I remember the ride in the trolley. It was unreal. I felt like I was dead. Like I was a corpse in a coffin being carried to their grave. Inside the ambulance I was just fucking with them because I thought it wasn't real. I kept asking them where we were going (obviously not the hospital because this was in my mind). I was convinced we were going to Egypt. I was so excited! I've always wanted to see Egypt. I told them all how amazing it was going to be and how I couldn't wait till we got there. They played along and told me we'd get there soon.

Now I'm in the hospital, and I realize I have cuffs on. Not only that but they are really tight and hurt. Quickly I see that this is real, and I'm handcuffed, naked, and tied to a bed. What happened to me? I quickly change my tone from happy go lucky to 'wtf is going on?'. The nurses don't pay much attention to me. They say the cuffs are for my safety. I plead with them and tell them how I would never hurt anyone. This continues for a long time. They stick a urinary catheter in me (ouch) and pump something into my blood with an IV. Now I feel like shit. I'm so tired, my muscles ache, and I can;t sleep. I'm still tripping really hard. I can see waves of colour flowing across the hospital sheets and morphing of the walls. My mom and step dad come to see me. They're really shaken and tell me what I've done. I'm extremely embarassed and sorry this happened... I'm told I have to talk to a psychologist before I'm allowed to leave. We talk, everything checks out, I leave at 7AM. I got no sleep that day, and stayed up to eat dinner with the family. We don't tell anyone what happened, only my mom and step dad know. It hurts when I lift my arms. I have deep purple bruises all over my arms, neck, ribs, back, and stomach.

I haven't touched any psychedelic since that experience and doubt I will for a long time. It really opened my eyes. I thought I knew what I was getting into but I really didn't. I made lots of mistakes that night. Number one being taking it the day I did. I was not in the right mindset and it was almost 100% that it would  turn into a bad trip. Second mistake was tripping alone. I think if I had a friend with me this could have all been avoided. My parents didn't know about my drug use before this. They thought I only smoked pot once a week. I told them I only took 2 hits of acid and it was my first time doing it. I have only told one of my friends about this experience and don't plan on telling anyone else because it's pretty embarassing. I guess I'm just posting this because it's an interesting story and it's nice to get it off my chest/talk about it? If you read this whole thing, bravo.

Exp Year: 2011	ExpID: 95024

Gender: Male

Age at time of experience: 19

Published: Feb 8, 2013	Views: 44,015

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Mushrooms (39), LSD (2) : Hospital (36), Overdose (29), Bad Trips (6)