		 DOSE:

		 1 tablet
		 oral
		 LSD

One day my father told me it was time, and some months later when we both were ready I took him off to a small cabin in the mountains, to escort him on his first acid trip. For years I had thought about introducing him to LSD later, in preparation for his dying. But Harold came to it sooner in his own growth, without my urging, which made me doubly glad to share the occasion.

I was more his escort and witness than an active guide. During his trip, I mostly managed the music and gave him the reassurance of my presence by infrequent responses, staying out of the way. A few times I was more directive, pointing him toward a deeper level when he got stuck in pre-pubescent memories on the way up, and suggesting strongly that he had choice about how to reintegrate what he had learned, while coming down. But basically, it was his trip: he had set its contours up and prepared himself, and I just watched it happen. The most active useful thing I did was take notes, which helped him later to connect with his experience.

The day before he tripped we had a lazy lunch together, and then relaxed for hours as I drove him up to the Sierra to find a place of peace. Night was falling as we got to the cabin; I made a fire, and helped him to prepare his space. Over dinner, we reminisced about the many years he had watched his children at their psychedelic rituals, and how he had come to his own. I teased him a bit about having had to attend a seminar with Stanislav Grof, the noted researcher, to finally give himself permission. He said the seminar had clarified things for him, as it had; and we turned in early.

In the morning I fed him a good breakfast, laced with extra C and E vitamins to buffer his body against its coming stress; and watched him check out the eyeshade he had chosen, the headphones, and the music he had programmed. To find good acid, in those days of scant supply and shoddy synthesis, had taken me months, for I wanted the best for him. I talked of the search and of the lore of its use again as he held the small blue tab in his palm, and probed him again for uncertainty and fear. But he was clear, and we said the ancient toast together: 'L'chaim!'

After he swallowed it, I got the axe, and took him out for a walk to gather wood -- to give his body motion to rest on, and to complete his ritual of preparation. We carted the manzanita faggots back, stacked them inside, and said goodbye to the morning. By then the first tremors of strangeness were rising in his blood, and we laid him down with his eyeshade on, wired him up to sound, and got on with it.

Though I had brought him to a place of good vibes where he himself had spent a night of magic once before, I almost blew it at the start: for between our walk in the cold and the mattress we lugged inside, dense still with winter night, his body took a chill that blankets and the roaring fire beyond did not dispel. It took me an hour to recognize how truly cold he was, insulate him on sleeping-bags, and turn him on his side open to the fire to thaw, kicking myself for my negligence.

Fighting the clenching of his muscles against the cold kept him down, and for much of this first hour his awareness was mainly in his body. As he lay there blind inside his eyeshade, hearing only Bach through his headphones, the outer world withdrew and he began the inward journey, feeling out the marvelous discreteness of the individual muscles, exploring his nervous system. As he warmed up, he stopped confusing the neuronic twitchings and explosions with cold-reflex, accepted my counsel to stop fighting them, and let them take his body -- which jerked and throbbed for hours, sometimes in violent rhythmic motion.

As his body let go, he was carried deeper into the experience. The sitar's notes in his earphones, 'random and colorful', took him to the five-and-dime stores of his childhood to stand before their shelves of a myriad gaudies, and took him into the quality of experience newly minted in exquisite detail, discovered through the eyes of the child still live within him. He wandered out eating chocolate kisses and through other scenes of his youth, feeling his hairline change as he grew from three to thirteen in half an hour.

'How little is really your own,' he said, 'the color and texture of a particular little fragment of bone.' And with this, he began to experience the qualities of substance. At first it was simply the substance of this material world. He spent a long time being eleven in Chicago, a young boy out on the prowl, discovering -- in the slag heaps and coal mounds, rusty iron and broken glass, all the detritus of urban earth -- the stuff from which his world was made. Worn rags and boards, a sense of materials wearied by wear, become thin, greasy, dull; and a sense of wonder at how impoverished his life among these had been, and how uncelebrated.

I took off his pants to leave him naked under the covers, stoked up the fire, urged him to go deeper. Explosions in the cortex, the brain-stem. He began to be aware of the flesh of the universe, and saw these qualities of matter as its qualities, perhaps from an underlying sense of the wear of his own matter, his sixty-one year old frame. He spoke of 'the worn, grimy, re-used material out of which reality is constructed.' Yet what caught him was not the small pity of it all, but his realization that this thin worn fabric 'has no reason to be, except someone once put it together ... and so much had to happen to the raw material of all this, before it could take these forms!'

But what was there in the first place? 'There must have been something, some clarity of purpose .... ' As he wondered, he began actually to feel it as 'a crystallographic intelligence.' I said softly, 'Is you speaking of her grace the Shaper?' without lifting his earphones to let him hear me, and did a little dance of glee unseen -- at his making contact, and at all the ironies. My daddy the lifelong atheist, my daddy the Marxist materialist, now plunging headlong through Hegel's echo into the true dialectic. My father, who strove for forty years to write simply and clearly of the workingman's bread-and-butter struggle in his union newspapers, here a journalist still, opening the mouth of his distant body every now and then to report precisely on transcendence, on 'states of being and of awareness, and their interplay' in disjointed sentences, lucid and poetic, and elegant with metaphor, so much so that later he cried out, 'I'm not entitled to such extravagance of concept!'

As the full effects of the acid took him, his rush went on, carrying him inward towards the Light. He began to know the qualities which underlie the qualities of substance. He saw the universe as glass, crystalline and discrete, gloriously multifoliate yet unrelenting in its angular quality. This perception was shadowed by personality, for also he was reading out his sense of his own self, a constant expression of sharp edges in argument, whose monotony made him sad as he realized 'how much of the space of a lifetime has been used on the angularity, the hardness and verifiability of things.' He was still in touch with all the shattered metals of his childhood in Chicago -- indeed, his awareness was working on all these levels simultaneously, so that their metaphors reflected and penetrated each other, making something whole of all the planes of reality, as it is.

Then he became aware of something new to him -- a dynamic within the crystalline, a soft and flowing quality -- and discovered that he was this too. 'There's all this space between molecules!' 'Right!' I yelled. 'And something in it!' 'Right!!' 'Something strung like embroidery, gathered in accumulations of meaning ...' He savored the polar qualities, invented his own names for them, repeated the names in incantation: 'the angularity of crystal, the sinuousness of vapor;' and then realized, 'There's a sense in which all this is manufacturing itself, all in a harmony, a quality of tension between them.' And with this phrasing of the Tao-poles he went beyond, into the state from which all reappears. He was all, knew that he knew directly the total history of each least tendril of the energy that makes what is. Or so I surmised from my own experience, as he was silent for half an hour, leaving only the buoy of his last assertion to mark the depths he was exploring.

'How hard it is to make this energy take shape,' said the god in him, rounding the bend to return. His nearer levels speculated amazed: these forms of self and world we know are almost arbitrary, what would happen if we let go of the belief or act of will that keeps them as they are, what shapes would it all assume beyond 'the first purity that inhabits it all?' As reintegration proceeded, he felt himself becoming the Ten Thousand Things of the Taoist universe; and then as it went further felt the skeins of Harold's personality recondensing in their complex tangles. So much was coming back to be the drab worn angular stuff it had been! He wept.

It was time to intervene. Lifting his earphone, I told him that it was all his, and that he could choose to remake a different balance in the skeins. He worked at this, and after a time recognized more of the sinuous in what was recondensing, felt its play in what was still largely angular, still not fully warm, but somehow less dull and impoverished than it had been during all the wasteland years.

And he was happy with it. 'If I have to have substance, this is the form I want it to take, this boundary between the crystalline and the flowing.' He felt like something stuffed into a sausage or sock, full and bulging oddly. His bladder too was bulging by then, five hours after dropping. I tried to get him to pee, he couldn't; but soon his reinhabitation of his body had progressed enough that I judged it time to reintroduce him to the world. I announced it cheerily, checked with him that he was ready, lit a candle, doused the light, and took off his headphones and eye-shade.

Going up, he had seen himself as an old scrap of bone. As he blinked around the room, I handed him an old scrap of bone to focus on -- a fragment of deer antler, cracked to reveal the core of osseous fibers, delicately and intricately structured for use and from use. The commonplace, the trivial tawdry, revealing itself to him as beautiful-of-the-world, weighted and numinous in the qualities he had come to know. Grasping it clumsily, like a newborn bird he fixated on it for nurture. 'He' was only partly there yet; toward the center, he was still subdividing the animate and inanimate, and down here at the end of the tendril of energy he saw the fragment both as branch and bone, and as his flesh.

When he was well-bonded with his talisman, I put pants on his ass, a coat on his back, and levered his stumbling carcass out the door to the porch. Pushed to the distance, the clouds banked a narrow sunset, aglow in dark pastels. The wind was icy after heavy rain. We unzipped. I rested mine on the rail, he of the 26-inch inseam held his underneath it, and we peed off the porch together -- as we did at the toilet thirty years before, but now with the order reversed, his tinkle coming as mine was well along. Even so, I was two again, feeling that primordial pleasure, feeling what he was feeling anew, in yet another vivid flash of contact high.

After this blessing of the earth, the flesh, our kinship, we watched the sunset for a while, at one with its mundane perfection, ever-changing; and exchanged platitudes about it, savoring the freshness of their meaning. Then I tried to take him out for a walk, to ground him more fully in the world, in his experience as an animal on this planet. But he was still just re-establishing control over his mechanism, and simply wasn't enough back in his body yet to make it walk unaided on the ground. Night comes early in the winter mountains, so I lost the chance. But between bone and sun I figured he was well-oriented, and I steered him back up the stairs.

For six hours more, till midnight, he came down from the peak experience, digesting it -- mostly in silence, self-absorbed. When I removed his mask I stopped being his memory, and soon withdrew from the rest of tending him, after I blessed him with a ripe persimmon and spread the rest of the simple table for him to glory in, discovering earth's luscious fruits. Now simply his companion, I ate too, talked a little, but mostly left him to his own inner processes, going out to walk the dog for my excuse. I was a bit spacey and drained myself from the hours of attention, and when I came back I spent my time in the music and my body, beginning to integrate my own experience, as he was integrating his.

His was not a detached, retrospective integration. As his body slowly metabolized the drug, he was still in tenuous contact with the primal melt within; and all the levels of its substantiation continued to work within his consciousness as it ever so slowly cooled down to what we call normal. For most of the evening he watched the fire, which I continued to stoke with the hot-burning manzanita chopped that morning. One limb in particular he saw as human, a child's; felt as his own. Holding the antler talisman, in organic sympathy of wood and flesh he lay and watched the limb being consumed by the fire, lived its changes to ember, knew himself in this, felt his substance used by the process of life, the child becoming an old man. 'It is,' he said, 'and I'm surprised, I don't regret it,' with perhaps a changed perspective on the worn, though death had never scared him.

Infinite in gradations of grey, he saw the small fireplace's angled walls as a temple, watched luminous colors dance within, absorbed its warmth, and at last began to cry. 'For the first time I think I understand why Betty wanted a fireplace,' he said, and recalled all the years he had reacted to it as inessential and expensive, alien to his understandings and desires. This brought him to consciousness of the might-have-been-but-was-unable that grew to break their marriage; and then to the body of love for her that still is live within him. He struggled awhile with this, accepting its weights, not yet clear to a sorrow without regrets, and then moved on, integrating this too.

The candles died, the last log flared on the high-banked embers, I drifted off snuggled beside him under the sleeping-bag, woke at three to find him soundly out, put on some more wood to cut the dawn chill, and fell asleep again. At sun-up I found him gone, out for a hike in a world crystalline with frost. When he returned, we tidied the cabin and packed, and got the car stuck in the old cattle-grate, had to tear home in record time to get me to a meeting. Once we hit the highway, I gave him my notebook, and for eighty miles we went over the experience page by page. Most of what I'd recorded, and all the deepest stuff, he had already forgotten or repressed.

As he read it came back, not fully but enough to accept as his own. 'A pretty metaphysical drug, huh?' I said, and helped him sort out the progression and relation of the different levels of his consciousness as the notes revealed these, confirming from my own experiences the reality, or at least the relative universality, of his. As is usual the day after tripping, he was somewhat punched out in his body, with a coupled depression of spirit. I offered him a frame to understand and deal with this; and we talked again about what it meant to his old rigidity, to recognize emotional states that couldn't be commanded. By the time we hit Berkeley, I had told him what little I know about how to integrate all this in everyday consciousness, about what choices there are. I was only half an hour late to my meeting, and he went home to rest.

Commentary  (1972,  revised)

Dad had the kind of trip I'd hoped for him. Much contributed: good acid, good environment, good company and fair tending. But the deepest contribution was his own. Ever since I did morning-glory seeds in 1964, he'd been close to people going through psychedelic ritual. All along he had been going through slow and painful changes, to his depths, influenced by his children but in his own way. Venturing nothing rashly or quickly, he came to acid in his own time, prepared by some slowly-growing sense of inner certainty. I had no fear for him; he searched himself for fear, felt almost apologetic at not finding it, and I believed him, he was ready. What he will do with the experience, where he'll go from it, I have no idea. While we were driving home he said, 'I think I won't want to take acid again.' I asked why. 'I took it to learn something. I think I've learned it.'

And what of me? Harold had deep feelings about my being the one escorting him in this initiation. He bespoke them now and then, I signaled that I understood, and we let it go at that. Not out of shyness, which isn't our custom. Rather, the whole trip was like that, almost accepted as mundane, special but sandwiched in between our other schedules of special and busy things, nothing to make a fuss over. Still I have my feelings about it, however casual we were in making the arrangements. What a high honor, to help my father come to share experience and perspective so precious to me! We do not push each other but attend over time; and here many years of slow sharing came to a fruit. I was glad for him, and for myself in having him as fellow-traveler: all the way home it moved me to delighted laughter.

The deeper things I can't say compactly. How it is to be his son and then in turn his father in leading him through things I have grown through; and then again his son, as he models for me in his late and painful growing what it is to be his age and still alive -- all this at once, endlessly and joyfully reflexed into itself, who I am who he is. How fortunate I feel that it has worked out so, with our lives and beings thus intertwined, a closeness that has fed and not imprisoned, ongoing and so rare.

Exp Year: 1972	ExpID: 51368

Gender: Male

Age at time of experience: Not Given

Published: Mar 9, 2006	Views: 112,300

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LSD (2) : Small Group (2-9) (17), Guides / Sitters (39), Families (41), General (1)


		 DOSE:

		 oral
		 LSD
		 (blotter / tab)

		 insufflated
		 MDMA
		 (powder / crystals)

		 oral
		 Alcohol - Beer/Wine
		 (liquid)

		 smoked
		 Cannabis
		 (plant material)

		 insufflated
		 Ketamine
		 (powder / crystals)

Monday

We had some time off so my partner and I decided to trip, at about one in the afternoon we dropped our acid (my partner had 5 tabs and I had 2, being the little thing that I am), and started to have amazing sex. We both loved sex on acid before and thought that doing it to come up would be fun….it was…until we both came and instantly got catapulted into a really heavy body load, the trip was getting heavier by the second our heads rushing and spinning. We were overwhelmed by the sudden mind and body fuck after being so intimately joined together, we were thrust a part feeling pretty rotten really. We stumbled around going ‘oh fuck’ watching the room twist and bend.

My partner instantly felt nauseous and rushed to the bathroom, seeing him urge made me feel sicky too. Our bathroom has a crazy ass floral pattern all over the walls of the tiny toilet, plus the floor is a trippy shaded tessellation that makes my eyes go really funny. We spent the next 10 mins or so dry heaving and retching until we both gave up and decided to ignore it and go back to bed.

We were both fine for a bit curled up in bed listening to Younger Brother, talking about shit and laughing at the ceiling. The music was the entire trip, forming the room and creating patterns and stories on the ceiling, it was quite intense at times and was very fun, so clear and precise to listen to the psychedelic rollercoaster. As we began to peak I started to feel odd, like I’d lost me. Even with my partner reassuring me I thought I’d lost all sanity and would never get it back…I was so scared. My partner cuddled me up and held me tight for ages; we went to our spare room to watch the clouds out the window, they were kaleidoscopic, shifting like Escher’s dragons in rainbow hues. This disturbed me a lot because my brain just couldn’t process anything that was going on.

I felt as though I would never be ‘right’ again, sudden rushes of memories would go past my eyes and a split second later I wouldn’t be able to remember exactly what they where just that they where important to me. I didn’t feel as if there was any past or future just what I had then and it scared me. Just feeling everything from second to second was odd and unpleasant, a constant experience flowing through me a constant ‘now’. My partner at this time was reassuring me trying to help me through it by saying I was all there and that I was complete.

Realising I really wasn’t feeling too grand on this trip my partner took me back to our bed, put on Sia and cuddled me so we where facing each other, with my legs wrapped around his waist and his legs under my bum. This was extremely comforting at the time and after a little while of looking into each others eyes and rubbing each others backs we both realised we fitted together like a jigsaw puzzle, both of us together made one complete piece. Also we each looked like each other, when I looked at my partner’s face I saw little bits of my face in him, quarters of our features and bodies where part of the other person. It was like looking at a picture of both of us morphed into one, slightly like a Picasso painting with triangular bisecting noses with segments of colour and texture…And my mind came back suddenly, my partner saw it drift around the room and the precise second he saw it enter my head my reality flooded back and everything was clear (except the funky visuals).

We both untangled ourselves and sat apart, I now hand over to my partner because this is his bit of the story

As we sat apart it felt as though the parts of us that had become each other were left behind, as I saw her mind return she became clear, in a sharp focus. Suddenly I felt as though while we had fitted together so neatly before, I was now fuzzy, like a child’s cartoon where all the lines wriggle a bit even when they’re meant to be still, I felt as though I didn’t fit neatly anymore. That I was a rough fit to my precise, sharply defined partner. I felt like a small child, foolish for trying to fit when it was clear I wasn’t correct. But I wanted to fit, it wasn’t right that I didn’t, I knew I should.

My partner went to the toilet, I followed her there confused as to why I was no longer the right fit. Somehow within my head it seemed as though the music hade made us fit together so perfectly during sex, but for some unknown reason at this time I was found wanting in regards to fitting precisely. I felt rejected and refused to accept that I didn’t fit with her, that I wasn’t right. Things are very confusing from this point onward; I can’t totally remember the order of events, while I was compellingly locked into the trip regardless of how I felt about it. I was scared that my partner wouldn’t want to be with me if I wasn’t right, concerned that I was no longer important to her I wasn’t too sure what was going on but I didn’t know if we were still together or what was or had been going on all the time.

While in the bathroom I felt mirrored to my partner, as did she to me. It was difficult to tell where bits of us and each other were within one another. Talking to her on the toilet I felt like we were an old and infirm couple caring for each other, while walking back to the bedroom through the kitchen we became younger; 50-somethings in the bathroom becoming 20-30-somethings in the kitchen and hallway. The situation confused me, I felt like I was being tricked somehow, though I didn’t know how or why. My movements were compelled by the music and my thoughts; I had no true part in some of my movement. Visuals were real, and morphing our bodies and some of our surroundings. My partner’s hair changed colour, while mine went grey. I felt like I was being accused of not caring enough or something like it, as we got younger returning to the bedroom it somehow seemed as though I was being tricked or deceived into being uncaring, thinking only of sex. It made perfect sense at the time; I didn’t feel worthy or right, but I wanted to show I truly cared as I do. As we walked forward through the rooms our appearances changed with each step, I became slightly rough once pushing her back saying’ no!’ trying to reverse the hallucinations, it was bewildering to say the least.

I embraced my partner at one point, my forehead to hers, sensing her third eye opening into mine, saying “come into me” attempting to make us fit perfectly again, it still didn’t seem quite right. Feeling destitute and despairing of what to do I felt cast out and slumped on my knees leaning on the bed. At once my ego instantly expanded to fill everything within the vacuum of outer space, spread out everywhere drifting through this total blackness. My partner cuddled and comforted me, but everything seemed so incredibly distant. I felt her compassion that even though I didn’t fit her right, she still looked after me.

Some Aphex Twin was playing though we can’t remember what song, feeling incredibly confused and detached from my surroundings and especially my partner it seemed as though the acid was a tool for seeing if we were suited to each other, whether we gelled right, or connected properly, if we did then the results were beautiful, but if not we would get thrown apart it seemed, it felt like my soul had a stiletto heel being ground into it which wasn’t especially comfortable. I felt like a small child that was so stupid for trying, that I just wasn’t any good. My partner called me ‘sweet-pea’ it seemed reassuring, but yet slightly as though she were trying to console or humour me, a failure. It did seem very kind that she still cared for me even though I wasn’t right. Incredibly intricate fractals were exploding, growing twisting and unfolding behind my eyelids, predominantly black from space with bright neon colours, shafts of light slicing and turning into very complex and totally awe-inspiring hallucinations. It was like the Squarepusher video for ‘Exploding Psychology’ except even more engrossingly complex; the music drove the psychedelic thunderstorm continuously.

Now I was unable to maintain any grasp or sense of time and sensation. It could have been ten minutes it could have been all I ever knew, apparently it was about 90-120 minutes. I was completely uncommunicative with my partner though at times on my part it felt as though I could read her thoughts, or project my feelings to her. I felt like my sense of self had been spread across the depths of space, floating around the cosmos surrounded by other consciousnesses, hoping to find a fit and be a complete being again. I was kneeling by the side of the bed with my head in my partners lap, she was crying though and some shouting went on it felt like it was because of me as I was wrong. At points she seemed slightly scary because I wasn’t right while she was so sweet and pure, like a motherly Earth figure caring for me.

Other times I felt that we were quite filthy, a mess, which I suppose at the time we were, but I usually feel great fucked. She put her hands in my mouth at one point, they tasted of ash so I bit them, quite hard apparently; it seemed like the right thing to do at the time though I am sorry I did it. All this time from her perspective I was staring into space, or at a spot two feet behind her head. When I did make eye contact it was only brief and impossible to maintain. Everything was shifting, images flowed from happy, to scary and sinister back to bright and technicoloured hallucinations, stories and fractals constantly evolving and changing. Synchronising with the music as they twisted around my head, through my brain and gripping my spine only to grow back up entwining my senses in a completely sublime synesthesia enveloping my ears, eyes, skin and mind.

My partner was panicking at this point unsure what to do having been trying to get a response out of me for so long and failing was a difficult experience. I was floating on the very edges of the universe, completely alone, surrounded by a sheer black void 360º with only a slight twinkling of stars light years away. When all of a sudden a voice said ‘hello C. you ok?’ in my ear, it sounded like an astronaut on his radio floating along attached to a shuttle, I sensed his reflective visor and knew something had come to find me. Feeling like the lowest form of life and not even complete. Sometime later after images of celestial forces and different plains of consciousness, ones I wasn’t allowed to get to, only observe others transcending to them.

I saw gods placing down consciousnesses into the heavens giving them essence and being. Others could ascend to be with the gods, but I could only look on, my mind received ideas and images from iridescent globes of energy the size of marbles that were absorbed, collecting from the power surrounding me, ran along the length of my long hair into my brain making it exquisitely warm and tingly where they merged into me. I could see these glowing orbs flowing into my partners head, but it felt like hers were different, that they were telling her that I wasn’t right for her, hence holding my head to her wanting her to receive my thoughts too. It seemed as though she did and sometimes I could will us together for a moment.

I stood up quickly and began to feel my ego returning to my controlled being, able to direct my attention and observe things rather than continually experience them. My mind came in from every corner of the universe as every single star rushed into between my eyes (like entering hyperspace but it was 360º around me, I could sense it all) making my body vibrate and buzz very strongly till it slowly subsided and I could see the room again. I was overcome with an incredibly strong sense of awe and happiness, I felt simply utterly amazing, on top of the world. I said “I’m confused” not totally sure what had just happened, uncertain as to how long everything had been. I saw my partner crying and was upset thinking I was the cause, which I guess I was, but not for why I thought.

I repeated “I’m confused” a few more times, my clarity of mind was complete and I was in control of all my senses but the smooth yet rather rapid return to myself had made me confused as to what had just happened and what was going on now. It was now around seven in the evening. We sat in the other room and my partner explained what had happened several times yet it still was very hard to completely grasp what everything was. I felt totally energised, there was no sleep tonight my head was on fire my mind alight with wonder bustling with hallucinogenic euphoria.

We went back to the bedroom and sat cuddled up facing each other wrapped around just as before hugging and rubbing our hands over each other. Once again we merged into one another, our limbs and faces being split and mirrored into quarters of each other like a chess board of body parts. It suddenly occurred to me that we were a complete single being when we were together, that the two of us go into making up each other, that it took both of us to make each other complete. I said ‘I never realised just how much of you goes into making up me’ and shed a few tears of happiness that I was with the one person who could make me feel totally complete. My partner was overwhelmed, so incredibly relieved at having me back, scared that she had nearly lost me over the past two hours, we sat and talked about what had just happened. I expressed my sincere apologies for scaring and putting her through that situation, thanking her greatly for comforting me throughout she made me feel so very safe the whole time.

We held eye contact practically the whole time. I found out how long everything had really been and that my partner had rung up a mutual friend for some help. To hear a sober normal voice, and for reassurance as my reality was totally detached from hers and there was only the two of us. The spaceman I heard had been my friend on the phone saying hello. His voice did help turning me somewhat back toward my self.

My partner’s experience of the situation was of course totally different.

After we walked back from the bathroom my partner stopped completely dead, staring behind me, I tried to make eye contact and had no response. It felt as though all sensory stimulation had been deprived. I could not get him to talk to me and asked him over and over what was wrong. My partner bent over slightly and I touched his hand, his fingers just slipped through mine, at this moment I felt as though my whole world had been ripped apart. I started sobbing and shouting at him to talk to me. After about half on hour of this (during this whole time I was obsessed with looking at the clock) I began to think there was something wrong with me, like I had gone insane and was perhaps stuck in my own head. It sort of felt as though my partner was trying to tell me something/ show me some thing and I was just too stupid to work out what. I lay on our bed watching him for a solid ten minutes not once did he move, I could barely see his chest moving as he breathed. I began to sob uncontrollably and closed my eyes hoping that when I opened them everything would be back to normal. Of course it wasn’t.

When I did finally open my eyes my partner was on his knees side on to the bed I shuffled to the end and hung my legs over the side I just needed him to say one word to let me know he was okay. But he stayed silent. I put his head in my lap and stroked his hair trying to comfort myself. After a while I kneeled on the floor with him, I held on to him for so long burying my face into his neck sobbing my heart out. I felt so emotionally distraught I started shouting at him, this seemed to get a reaction from him he held my eye contact for a spilt second and I thought maybe I just needed to shock him out of it, so I slapped him really hard around the face, this did nothing and I became convinced that I had lost him forever and that all that would be left would be the empty shell of his body. It was a terrifying thought and I found it increasingly hard to control the situation, grabbing his phone I decided to ring an ambulance, I unlocked his phone and started to dial 999, telling him over and over what I was going to do. I was shitting it and needed a response from him, I realised that he is my entire world and without him I couldn’t survive. The prospect of an authority figure was too much to handle and I turned on the computer trying to find someone on msn to talk to.

There wasn’t anyone; I am fairly inexperienced with drugs and completely rely on my partner to lead any trips we have not having him was utterly confusing and hurtful I had no idea what to do, I rang a mutual friend who I knew my partner had tripped with before and asked him for advice. He thankfully told me everything was okay and to just let my partner come out of it naturally. I cuddled up my partner still in tears, trying to feed him water with my fingers, as his mouth was dry and he wouldn’t hold a glass himself. As I put my fingers in his mouth the third or fourth time he bit me really hard, and for a brief second I thought he was back but he remained motionless and silent. I was still really freaked out and went to the computer to talk to our mutual friend convinced that everything was not okay.

Luckily after about 2 hours since he stopped talking my partner got up and declared he was confused….. I would have been too, I had turned all the lights on, sprayed his aftershave and torn posters down all in an attempt to snap him out of what he was in. as said, we discussed all of this and realised just how much we mean to one another, just how much each of us is wrapped up in the other one. Although this trip was difficult it did help me realise that my partner depends on me just as much as I depend on him and that no matter what I do he is always a part of me. The sheer thought of not having him tore my entire world apart and made me question my sanity. I truly feel that our relationship has been strengthened by this overwhelming experience and that we both now appreciate each other and how much we mean to one another more than ever before.

After a lot of talking and cuddling and admittedly a few tears we came to the conclusion that although we both very much enjoy sex on drugs, and have done so in the past that this time having sex whilst coming up caused this strange trip. We both think that having got up quickly straight away after climaxing we felt like the other had abandoned us slightly, I personally felt as though I had made my partner sick and that he didn’t want to hug me anymore. Whereas for my partner it felt as though he was a small child that had been mistaken and was trying to fit with me when it just couldn’t happen, he felt as though he was being silly. Having been joined into one as the trip strengthened it meant that when we were detached we each felt as though we were missing something, the other to make us whole.

My partner sensed it first though it went away, then I as my trip peaked nice and hard. I take more drugs than many to get to where I want to be, I feel quite comfortable being incredibly twisted, gaining immense satisfaction and well-being from my experiences and subsequent recoveries. I found my peak utterly amazing, incredibly pure, vastly involving and all encompassing. It was absolutely magnificent though I was unsure as to how I should be feeling sometimes but that just added to the excitement. This was truly an unadulterated psychedelic experience and I am extremely grateful I had it. I am incredibly sorry that I scared my partner I simply had no connection with reality, I learned a powerful lesson and got an ass-kicking, I’m truly sorry I worried my partner it was such an overwhelming trip I didn’t know what to make of it. With this new clarity of the situation we went about having a lovely night together, sitting on the bed and talking about all sorts.

The five tabs were still going strong in me; while my partner was winding down feeling quite tired she decided to curl up wrapped in the duvet. I pottered about being the little control freak that acid turns me into sorting everything out, getting it just so. We stayed together pretty much the whole night. We sat at the bottom of the bed listening to music wrapped up in a blanket, watching our crazy Axminster carpet wriggle about turning into cheeky sly foxes. Water in the glass had a multi-coloured hue of the spectrum; the carpet flowed and rotated mechanically around the glass which formed a column of power and light. Having a couple of joints while selecting tunes to play, listening to U-ziq, Ceephax and Aphex Twin watching the colours swirl around loving the Analord series  

Turning the black light on and playing with candles and whatnot. I played around with my glow poi that looked really cool leaving  thick bars of red through the air; I got pretty hectic and furious working out a lot of energetic tension swinging my arms about madly. I always find that I can spin poi or glow sticks instinctually when fucked, especially on acid I can create stories and patterns synchronised with the beat and complexities of the music. It comes naturally and with no thought, simply playing, experimenting and expanding on sequences. I spun them about for quite awhile till I became bored.

Appletiser, apples and ice tasted magnificent, it made my mouths ickyness go away so I was all fresh. I particularly enjoyed playing with ice in my mouth and kissing while holding it on my tongue. She was quite sleepy and was dozing in and out while I played about with our home. I gave her a massage which made her even more sleepy and fuzzy; she then curled up snuggled up even more after that.

I started to play with my camera phone fiddling with the different settings and effects, taking pictures just for fun; I proceeded to fill up all my memory throughout the night, taking all sorts of crazy pictures especially some mad gurning grinning ones in negative.

I enjoyed mucking around with rubber bands and marbles, the quick snapping and sensation of the band on my fingers was fun, while the solid definite hardness of the marbles was interesting, very real and there, the texture and smoothness intriguing to play with rolling around amongst my fingers and squeezing as hard as possible. It was particularly fun to put two small ones in my mouth and roll them around my teeth and gums making neat sounds sensations and resonances and also cleaning and clearing my gacky gummy lips away from my teeth, it felt very good.

My metal jaw harp was also spectacular, the sensation of playing it joined to my teeth resonating and vibrating around was brilliant, the feeling of the sound rolling around my tongue and mouth was exquisite, playing came naturally and tunes unfolded simply and logically, vibrant primary and pastel colours streamed from my lips with the music, meandering outward around my head, back inside my ears, mingling, seeping and filling all the cracks in my brain. Flowing like 2d and 3d vines or a river they were very fun to create having complete control over them producing the sounds, their colour, shape and texture. I eventually stopped as my jaw became sore from the clenching and tension my playing was putting on it.

Tuesday

At about one thirty in the morning I decided to have a shower as I was very sweaty and manky. The biting hot water felt superb, each needle of water shooting down tingled on my body, holding my mouth open with my tongue to the stream was exhilarating heating me up, electrifying my skin. Washing my body with the rough shower spongy thing was great so rough and cleansing, I also got my back cleaned which always feels great. After a long hot shower washing my hair for ages scratching and scritching my scalp and ears as I love to when tripping or on any tactile drug I got out feeling gorgeously clean and shiny, having removed all the grime and dirt from tripping. My partner had cooked a chicken thing, and made some decent coffee, taking it back we sat down and drank the gorgeous tasting rich coffee, while it didn’t take long for my partner to discover the chicken didn’t really agree with her body at the moment (it turned out through a confusion of time, and forgetting to change one of our clocks for daylight saving, it wasn’t cooked enough). I ate a banana and an apple with some bread and jam to fill me up a bit.

I continued to listen to music on the headphones, some lovely Sennheiser HD515’s that are gorgeous for tripping so clear and rich, wrapping me up in delightful synths. I lay on the bed listening to Hallucinogen, oh that was truly wonderful. I do believe I could spend an entire trip tucked up in bed listening to music through headphones, a simply spectacular activity when supremely squiffy, even nicer with a blowjob blow jobs are so nice to give when I’m fucked it feels as though my partners rock hard cock is everything in the world and a perfect way to show him I love him utterly. Yummy!!!!

Around six o’clock in the morning my partner woke up and we sat about chatting for a while, not wishing to finish yet we decided to snort some MDMA crystal. We have no tube with which to snort, but I remember I have a blunt wrap skin which comes with a handy plastic tube inside. I roll a very tasty blunt, and save it for later (it’s still curing several days later, I think I’ll keep it for a special occasion). I cut some off the rock and racked up four lines, two small (3inches) and two largish (5 inches). I take the big and little one, my partner then snorted a smaller one, leaving the large one for later. Instantly feeling alive and energised my body came alight, as though hooked up to a car battery we’re soon buzzing our tits off. The line burnt us both quite badly but it certainly made the morning start very well, better than breakfast that’s for sure. I felt quite queasy from a drip that slips right down my throat, and about five minutes later after urging a little I puked a Lucozade coloured sick into the bin(I had been drinking it), feeling tremendously better afterwards we just kept on coming up and up. We sat on the bed chattering inanely and incessantly for hours.

Able to talk and communicate exceptionally expressively we chatted about the night, the conversation flowed lucidly each of us often finishing each others sentences. The confusion and head fuck of the acid was removed; the two chemicals synergising perfectly, memories and feelings of the evening became much clearer, we were able to articulate our thoughts, emotions and sensations far, far better. Taking the MDMA on the way down from the acid certainly helped us integrate our experience fluidly, make sense of it and gain much more than we ever could have had we not taken it; th. At about nine o’clock I took the remaining line. We opened a bottle of champagne and drank it fairly quickly getting nice and tipsy.

Napping slightly and enjoying each others bodies. The MDMA with the acid made sex uber fun and made it incredibly easy for me to come, whereas my partner could stay rock hard for hours on end but still reach orgasms. The two drugs synergise so well together every part of the sex was controllable and breathtaking, we would definitely recommend everyone to try it. The best part for me was the feeling that our souls had fused into a single amazing energy, producing something known in tantra as a kundalini. This briefly explained is when all 7 chakras in the body open up and an amazingly strong energy spirals up through them and out my crown charka. This was something I knew nothing about until after this had happened and my partner has shown me on the internet. Wriggling about all over the place moving every which way we wanted having far too much fun that someone somewhere must be having an awful time.

Every tiny pressure felt exquisite, our inhibitions nowhere to be found. With each thrust and movement together the energy surged from me into her, making orgasms overwhelmingly frequent that we had to pause to calm down quite often. She can also ejaculate which is damn sexy anyway, but with the pure sensual brilliance of the sex and its overwhelming power she ejaculated more than ever making everything soaking wet. We got so unbelievably horny then sated our every lustful passion, loving every second, savouring each moment. It was wonderful as a man, able to sensually feel every tiny sensation and texture, but to have complete control over my orgasm was a wonderful skill. Allowing me to keep going as long as we desired (2 hours) and finally ending in an tremendously world trembling psychedelic explosion that was simply body-bendingly brilliant

All women can ejaculate they just don’t know it, the main way that I find myself being able to is just to relax and enjoy every sensation in my body……the acid will help me do this. It will give me the most amazing orgasms of my life and also makes my partner incredibly hot for me. Sharing all these experiences and knowing each others bodies the way we do is a truly special thing.

Afterwards we moved to the back room, I rushed about bringing things back and forth from the other room, setting up camp on the sofa and spare bed. We sat watching the rain bash down against the window, smoking a few cigarettes chatting more and more. We have only fairly recently moved into our flat so the spare room is still a bit bare and I started to put a few posters up and move stuff about making it more homely. We chatted about all sorts and drew pictures of our feelings and thoughts from the night and time before. The MDMA helped clarify our experience and let us draw much more from it. We came to the conclusion that having sex while coming up had made us feel joined so fully that after when we were no longer locked together we both felt as though we weren’t a complete being without the other. We curled up wholly in love with one other.

I took 4 more tabs of acid, and my partner took two or three, to keep everything shiny throughout the day, we chatted some more enjoying the very clean high. Feeling absolutely euphoric and gorgeously warm inside, the world was entirely perfect and couldn’t be better. The acid only gently ran throughout the day, adding texture, tone and colour to an already exquisite day. We had to drop a film back so a gentle stroll into town was pleasant, though a bit much at times. We then went shopping at the supermarket which was quite the sensory overload, coming back feeling rather delicate and incredibly sweaty from the MDMA still working busily away, our eyes looked very dazzling. We went and sat back down, while I smoked a yummy joint and we listened to Shpongle and the Mystery of the Yeti. Having a little to eat we curled up watched some films and telly, then dozed off into a sound a smooth sleep; waking feeling refreshed and extremely happy inside and all-over early the next morning.

Wednesday

On the third night of acid my partner and I talked for hours. I took 4 tabs, while my partner took 2. Over the course of the night she took 1, then 3 more, while I took 5 then 3 our tolerance being up from the previous nights. We cuddled and kissed while snorting some MDMA taking about half a gram between us over the course of the night. Picking music to play and making a play list was surprising, intensely involving; feeling very exceptionally high indeed buzzing and tensing away like mad, barely able to do a thing we were peaking with attitude, and smoothly. We curled up on the bed chatting away talking a bout shit, nothing and everything.

Listening to psychedelic ambience we moved to the other room and spent the evening there waiting for the sun to rise. I smoked a nice joint and watched the walls shift and surge over itself, the corners of the room sneaking around. Everything looked absolutely beautiful, perfectly formed and embossed to precision. We didn’t feel fucked up we felt quite simply amazing, like ourselves, but 10,000 times better, calmer, happier, so peaceful inside, not a thing was wrong and the world was just magnificent. As Thom York says, ‘everything in its right place’ and it certainly was. The simple sublime splendour of being alive and experiencing the world was making my eyes go teary it was so fucking exquisite.

My partners jaw was clenching quite badly and she was getting very annoyed with it, I suggested perhaps she do some ketamine as personally I found it totally eliminates any muscle tension completely, very pleasant indeed. I chose not to take any just yet it being around 4-5 in the morning, I wanted to wait and take a fair old bit as the sun rose and shines right in the window. I prepare an 5cm long line, which she takes easily, not long after I ask how she’s feeling and she responds “all warm and gooey, it’s lovely” unfortunately it hadn’t totally removed the jaw clenching, but everything was very nice and fuzzy. The bastard ketamine pisses set in so we go to the bathroom, the hallway is a pretty spooky dark bit, but the candle in the loo is very comforting, a golden warming glow. With everything being rather peculiar closing her eyes to concentrate invariably meant a droopy head and dreamy smile before snapping back to reality and the task at hand. We hold hands and chat about nothing in particular; somehow we decided to walk in to town the next day, though certainly not just yet. Shuffling back like Ozzy, my partner decides bed is a more attractive option jumping in and refusing to come out. After a little coaxing and promising to wrap her up in our duvet and blanket we toddled back to watch the sunrise.

I personally felt like a child being looked after by my partner, but also like his favourite childhood toy, loved to an extreme that made me very emotional at times. One memory that I keep coming back to is when my partner wrapped me up in our duvet, tucking it all around me so I looked like a little caterpillar before putting a thick black fleecy blanket over me, he then pulled the covers back from my face and lent in to kiss me on the lips before tickling my chin. I had an overwhelming sensation of being a baby in a pram all snuggled and looked after.

We sat listening to Are You Shpongled? and a compilation CD called Unusual Suspects 2, very relaxing and intricate, a pleasure to watch. As the sun started to come up I did some ketamine, 3 large lines, probably about 14 inches in total, I flung the window open held a tissue to my well snotty nose and curled up waiting to go extremely squiffy indeed. Watching the amazing mechanical and organic hallucinations behind my eyes my forehead repeatedly began to buzz in a rising head rush and blinding white light that grows, throbs and subsides. I open my eyes to watch my left hand wriggling puppet-like in perfect synchronisation to every single beat and rhythm, twisting, turning like claws. I could control it somewhat; I could stop if I really wished I knew that certainly. But it was so very neat I had no wish to, I felt slightly compelled by the ketamine, mildly controlled. I have felt this sort of thing before on K, being turned inside out, or being forced to move, or have my consciousness expand creating a totality of music enveloping, driving and controlling every aspect of the experience, wholly immersive forming the complete universe.

I must admit I’ve always enjoyed it, after getting over the initial shock of being utterly bound to move in a minutely particular way, sculpting a friend out of hallucinatory clay as he telepathically knows where and how to move is just plain amusing. Ketamine though not overtly friendly and ‘happy’ is extremely wonderful a very enjoyable drug. It does often give me an enormous sense of well-being, filling me up to a wonderful fullness that makes me grin like a kid.

My other hand joined in and they wriggled around for some more. I watched the smoke from an incense stick dance writhing wreathed around my fingertips. I watched cartoons on the wall, poking them changing them with my mind. Not long after, this being about a half hour since ingestion I felt nauseous, urged then was sick into my mouth, getting to the toilet I violently yet quite comfortably vomited into the toilet efficiently about three times (kinda like Mr. Creosote), I stared as the toilet stretched to the length of a snooker table, heaved a bit then decided to leave and clean up. My partner had reacted with horror at my vomiting; I think conjuring memories of the first night, feeling really sick then. Shutting herself into the bedroom and refusing to let me in I guess I scared her a bit, reassuring her I was fine I eventually deciding to leave her be, I was sweating profusely and I didn’t stay the same height for more than 5 seconds, I did feel slightly beastly reminiscent of Mr. Hyde’s description in the mirror but very good all over.

I stumbled back to the spare room and slumped on the sofa; listening to crystal clear music the tones enriching the world giving it depth and substance while watching as the sky gets lighter. I rested my head and beamed as the music winded through my ears and twisted up my brain good and proper, ‘Divine Moments Of Truth’ was simply spectacular as the little critters rotated all through my messy head giving it a good sorting out sideways.

At some point my partner came to join me again, she had been under the covers for a few hours down a k-hole, coming back to reality we both did some more ketamine. I had a small nosebleed that I dabbed up then disposed of the rest of the filthy stuff straight up my shnozzle. We tucked ourselves up in the rugs and watched as the crisp morning sunshine blazed right onto our window. Feeling utterly serene, warm and all gooey inside made us grin like the Cheshire cat. My head dropped onto the back of the sofa and I closed my eyes, the pure clean sun beat down warming my eyelids from the chilly air, the bright light made red and pink, white, and dazzling sparkly colours explode into my head. Fractals that warped and grew insanely, there beauty breath-taking all I could do was lie immobile in awe at the sheer splendour thinking how damn lucky I am to be able to experience this; which I think I did for about 90 minutes. Gently drifting back from god-knows where feeling absolutely ecstatic, fuzzy and gorgeous all over. “It’s so fucking great to be alive”.

I think this experience has made us completely content with life and happy knowing that we can always be together and live a blissful existence with each other.

After amazing showers and my partner pampering me completely, we set out to town late in the afternoon. The walk was amazingly refreshing and crisp; the world seemed so peacefully in tune with us. Both of us found that our legs just walked without effort leaving us free to concentrate on talking and taking everything in. It was a gorgeous winter evening and we were both warm and snuggled in our thick coats holding hands, giggling like small children. It felt as though we were on holiday, exploring the renewed world that shone with detail. As it got darker and we got to the centre of our town we both noticed that Christmas lights were starting to be put up, which seemed amazingly appropriate as we had both said earlier that we would treat that night as our Christmas, everything felt magical, brimming with good-will like late night shopping. After a few hours in the town we decided to go to the cinema to watch the Corpse Bride. This is the first time I have been to a public place squiffy and found it to be amazingly enjoyable. The film was incredibly involving although I feel the theme of death was a little too strong for me; however the ending made me weep like a child (it was an incredibly gooey film, lovely).

It was a truly special time and I can see why drugs such as MDMA and acid where used as a form of couple therapy, it definitely helped my partner and I. The ketamine at the end of our fun tied everything up nice and neatly. I find K narrows down my scattered mind superbly, twisting me sideways then setting me on my feet; reality doesn’t come as so much of a shock. It leaves me feeling so very gently serene, tranquil and completely calm, harmonious inner peace interlaces through my essence propelling me so softly through my day. It packages me up and places me delicately back into sobriety after my intense experiences.

Our few days were an utterly astounding bonding experience, bringing us so unbelievably close together, joining us into one then showing us the pure beauty in the simple existence of life, the unadulterated bliss of being a living creature on earth.

Have fun living. xx

Exp Year: 2005	ExpID: 47765

Gender: Not Specified

Age at time of experience: Not Given

Published: Apr 6, 2006	Views: 89,864

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Ketamine (31), MDMA (3), LSD (2) : Small Group (2-9) (17), Sex Discussion (14), Glowing Experiences (4)


		 DOSE:

		 1 hit
		 oral
		 LSD
		 (liquid)

		 4 tablets
		 oral
		 Pharms - Diazepam
		 (pill / tablet)

           BODY WEIGHT:
	   65 kg

LSD Delirium - A cautionary tale

Perhaps a little history is in order. I've taken acid twenty times, had a few hard trips (in fact none of my trips have been completely pleasant, but that's the nature of the beast) but always been better off, learned something valuable from the experience. No regrets there!

I don't usually write experience reports, but it struck me that I haven't read many reports that take into account the amount of sleep a person has had beforehand. This experience is set on the third and last day of a large music festival at which I had been both helping out and partying, and as a result I had been left with four to five hours sleep each day. I had been smoking about half a gram of strong cannabis each day for the last week or so, while at the previous festival and on the road in between, which is about five times as much as usual. On this beautiful Sunday afternoon with the vibes of thousands of happy dancing people I had decided it was a good time to trip, to seek musical inspiration and perhaps uncover some issues I might need to work on.

By chance I was given a dose of liquid LSD, and when asked whether I wanted a full dose or a half I hummed and ha'ed, unsure as to what would be the better option. This new friend grinned and made the decision for me, giving me what he considered a full dose. It would be silly to guess the dose but I know it was a big one, as first alerts were noticed within ten minutes and the toilet cubicle door was waving subtly at fifteen minutes.

Once back at the campsite I felt unsettled and a bit nervous, and I thought some music would help. I put on a hat and picked up an astrojax, and made my way 100 metres down the hill to the dance area, and found a nice spot to sit under a shade marquee. A juggler had me mesmerised, telling stories with his silver clubs, relating the hard work in juggling, beggaring belief at his unending efforts in the sun. It's hard for me to document my gradual drift from reality, but it started as a guy sat down next to me and asked about the astrojax I was holding. I was able to explain that it was a toy, but when I got up to demonstrate I got a knot in it almost immediately and had to sit down again.

Around this time paranoid fantasies began to proliferate, and I thought there had been a mass dosing, that everyone around me was also just beginning to trip hard. As I watched a lady stagger into the shade from the sun I pondered the implications of this mass dosing situation. After a few seconds of contemplation I yelled 'FAN-FUCKIN-TASTIC!!' really loud and startled a few people even over the loud music.

This sort of jarred me back to reality for a few seconds, I felt a bit silly and decided to watch the juggling again. However the juggler had left, and my attention was drawn back to the guy sitting next to me. It struck me that he was an undercover cop, and the LSD was being used as a mind control device to keep outspoken people isolated and sterile. The music seemed bland and a little ominous, and as a truck rolled in and spread a stinkhaze while emptying the portapotty, my thoughts of government chemical control seemed confirmed.

There was a sudden shift as the truck moved out again, someone put up an umbrella that said 'peace festival', and the dj changed the music to something a little more upbeat. 'No no no, they nearly got me but I'm not falling for that' I thought, that was a pretty clever trick but I knew I was being manipulated. The dj swigged from a clearly labelled bottle and I chortled in disbeleif as I wondered how much he'd just earned for this blatant endorsement.

About this time I 'realised' that someone had found the cellphone I left to charge backstage, and that they were about to break the news to me that I had received a text message from my partner saying she was pregnant. I saw a girl coming towards me gingerly holding a plastic bag, I could see the cable for the charger in the bag, I heard someone say 'two months' and it was all the proof I needed. I stared at the hills over the dome stage and saw a sun of white light rise, one of the only real hallucinations I had with open eyes.

At some level I knew it wasn't true, but emotions flowed nonetheless, I felt the joy of new life and the empathy from happy parents nearby, and I felt the pain and regret of lost opportunity. I shed a tear or two, silently. A story was being told to me in the motions and conversations of all the people around me, of the dual nature of life, of both being sacred and hurtful. We multiply and tax the environment hugely, and yet we bring so much joy to each other. I felt like human life was negating itself, living and dying but what happens inbetween? Then the answer became clear as a new song appeared, effortlessly uniting all our energy into one colourful thread. Music is the source and product of inspiration.

Then the conspiracies came to a head. The cops were ready to lead me away, and I was ready to go. Somehow that simultaneously didn't exist at all, and it was actually time for me to put on the show of my life. I had the astrojax, I was totally inspired by the crowds of beautiful people and my supposed creation of new life. The creator of astrojax had hypnotised me over the years of watching those strobing lights in the dark, he had set up the festival, brought me here and dosed me, and now was the time to reciprocate.

I stood up, stepped carefully backwards over the fence, and marvelled at this ideal obstacle course of cow tracks on which I could prove my balance. I turned to face the crowd and started an orbit. WOOPS forgot about that knot! I tried to continue but it was impossible. This was still an opportunity to prove myself, so I stated to all and sundry that I would pick my way through the thistles, climb that fence, and navigate the steep hills to support my pregnant partner. Of course by this stage I was probably babbling.

I can't remember much of the real world for a few hours, but apparently I had to be led backstage as I was beginning to freak some people out, and was getting a bit clumsy. Once backstage I wouldn't calm down and was getting more wound up, so my friend was consulted and he thought it would be a good idea to intervene. I was restrained and force-fed four valium, and held in place until I passed out.

During this time of total delirium I had an out-of-body experience, I met people and was subjected to a lot of history. Major themes I recall involve the realisation that I had to die to avoid everyone suffering, that I had family I never knew about, and that I was the Creator. For a long time I felt stuck, isolated, like people were trying to get through to me, and I could hear their feeble voices inploring me to breathe out and let go, but I was still afraid. The concurrent fantasies were still continuing, those people were also the police trying to arrest me, they were also my friends waiting for me to get up off the curb and tell them I was ok (this follows on from my first ego death experience seven years ago).

Finally I surrendered, stopped saying no, no, no, and said yes. At this moment I saw a vertical line curve into a series of horizontal lines, a strong hand clasps mine and lifts me up, his tattoos moving onto my arm, the triangles of the geodesic dome multiply inwards and fold away, letting in water and white light. The water flows down my throat and the crippling dehydrated feeling melts away. I open my eyes and cry out for joy at simply being there, at experiencing the awesome curling koru spirals of the earth's spirit. I remember yelling out that I made life, I'm making music, it's LSD-25!

I had the idea that I had successfully synthesised this drug within my own brain and got everyone high, and that I was causing a feedback loop, giving massive power to the sound system just by willing the music into being. 'I'm the first generation' I proclaimed, although I'm not sure how to explain what I mean by that now. Something to do with not letting myself die, I was one of the original humans and was stuck in my first iteration until I managed to breathe out again and connect with my mate, and when I did it caused an exponential growth in awareness and connection. I hear from my friend that my voice had an insane zeal, and I know why. These were profound ideas.

As I looked around the backstage area I saw vaguely familiar people, I knew they weren't my long lost brother or my girlfriend or 'the opposite harmonic to my existence', but they were still significant to me. I saw they were happy and this cheered me immensely, and I began dancing madly, throwing my dreadlocks around, spinning on the carpet (just like Homer Simpson's chicken walk, so I was later told) and clapping with the music. I sat on a soft chair and waved my arms in order to bounce up and down, like a child who had just discovered the joy of dancing. Unfortunately I got carpet burn on my ankles (I was barefoot), right hip, and elbows, from the breakdancing. I also picked up bruises on my thigh, knee, lower back, left arm, heel, and forehead. I don't know where these came from but apparently some happened before I'd been fed the valium. I didn't feel the pain of the carpet burn until the next day, but on some level I knew it was best to stop dancing on this carpet.

I felt remarkably together, and stood up to have a look around. The air was suffused with light and dancing dust motes. I found a bit of dreadlock that had been pulled off while dancing, and held it in a beam of sunlight to see the chaotic curls of hair lit up. I saw the dj (a different one by now) through a gap between the front and backstage halves of the dome, and clapped him on as he played my music back to me. I look down and see a table with various plates of food on it, and congratulate myself for making this food appear, seemingly just by thinking about it. The soundguy is peering at me and I shout to him, 'I'm Peter Pan!', and pick up a slice of green pepper and munch on it. Yum.

I sit back on the floor and notice that my pants are stopping me from sitting in the lotus position properly, and begin to undo them. A friend notices this and tells me to 'keep those on, mate'. I realise it's a good idea as soon as he says it, and probably wouldn't have taken them off anyway. My stomach sends me an alert, and I make for the gap at the back of the dome, catching a few strands of hair on the velcro. I ponder those strands for a few seconds and think it might be good to keep pulling until all my hair is gone, but this thought leaves me just as quickly as the thought of taking my pants off. I stumble out the back of the dome, down a little hill, and spew hugely. My eyes are filled with tears and I can't see a thing, I'm confused and wonder why this is happening so I look up at a friend. Another false realisation dawns on me and I say 'ayahuasca'. He doesn't know what I'm talking about, but seems to realise that I'm just using words to try and make sense of the world again.

I was led to my friends tent, and as he persuaded me to lie quietly on the floor. I wondered why I wasn't tripping very hard, even though it was still light outside. I was expecting to be tripping until well after night fell, and had been looking forward to watching the lightshows. He tells me he's still tripping (he had just under half the amount of liquid acid I'd had) and wants to stay with his own trip, so I keep quiet even though I'm bursting with profound ideas. I drifted out of consciousness again after a short while, and woke when it was dark.

I desperately needed to find the toilet but was having trouble walking, I didn't know if I'd make it to the portapotty and was wracked by indecision until I decided to just piss on the hill before it was too late. This happened again almost exactly the same way a few hours later, I was stumbling around and nearly fell a few times. I realised I had a bit of spew on my pants and crawled into my own tent and got changed. I passed out once again and when I awoke it was light, and I heard voices talking about me.

'That guy with the dreads, yeah, some people have a hard day but that was a real hard one'. I was confused as I thought things hadn't been that bad. I got up and walked about the campsite a bit, catching up with the various djs and their partners, they were friendly to the point of further confusing me, giving me warm hugs and asking how I was even though I had met most of them only a few days before. Their expressions were mixed between slight concern, bemusement and empathy, I later learned that all but two of them have had similar experiences before, with LSD or mushrooms. At that point I still didn't know that I'd been restrained and fed valium, and I vaguely wondered why I had sore feet. As my friend and I left the site he related what he knew, and I wished I could have stayed a bit longer and talked about it with some of the kind people who had looked out for me.

For the rest of the day and most of the next I felt vey content, relaxed and open and just a little dopey. Colours appeared brighter, I recalled many of the OBE memories vividly and could retell many of them, and my wounds were barely noticed. I met some people that night and made friends quickly, something that usually takes me a lot longer, and when we played a game of Cranium I found my faculties intact, answering obscure questions and reading clearly.

On the third day after the trip I felt a bit down, somewhat tired and a bit out of sorts, but nothing worse than a usual tired day for me and nothing approaching the darkness of my teenage depression. On nights five and six after the trip I found myself in a half wakeful state while lying in bed, and I thought I was back in my tent on the top of that hill. It took a minute of piecing together evidence to work out that I was, in fact, in my bedroom at home.

On the first of those two nights I woke my partner to excitedly tell her about the lightshow around the ceiling, and realised it was just moonlight seeping in! On that sixth night I had a very profound dream, that I was in a flat field with a lot of people in the same semi-lucid superconscious state that I had been, during my OBE backstage. I realised during that dream that everybody had in fact been 'mass dosed' and was in the same state as me, although they had gotten there by entirely different routes to mine. We shared the same timeless moment.

That day has left me with an increased appreciation of sleep as a resource for the mind, and I won't take a strong psychedelic unless I'm well rested and sure it's the option I want to take. Another realisation was of the value of music, I beleive it is one of the very few methods of true soulful connection between such divergent cultures.

Peace

Joseph

Exp Year: 2007	ExpID: 58840

Gender: Male

Age at time of experience: Not Given

Published: Jan 19, 2007	Views: 65,948

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LSD (2), Pharms - Diazepam (115), Sleep Deprivation (140) : Combinations (3), General (1), Difficult Experiences (5), Music Discussion (22), Guides / Sitters (39), Hangover / Days After (46), Relationships (44), Mystical Experiences (9), Festival / Lg. Crowd (24)


		 DOSE:

		 1 hit
		 oral
		 LSD
		 (blotter / tab)

I've enjoyed taking a look through some of these accounts of 'Trips' the good, bad and ugly. I wonder if anyone else who's had a bad trip and read some of the other stories here has felt a loosening of the sphincter reading other peoples nightmare episodes?! :)  The following account is an example of one very bad trip in around 30 good ones, but i'ts so far out there I thought I'd cover the bad stuff before the good. I think it's important for any would be tripper to be prepared for the fact that an experience doesn't guarantee that you'll have a good time. Its also fair to say that steps can be taken in order to have a wonderful time, the FAQ section of Erowid has a very well written 'Trip' do's and don'ts  list which I think would ensure better chances of a positive psychedelic outcome. Here's my story anyway, it's about the one that went bad.

About ten years ago I bought my third trip from a guy in my home town Norwich (UK) It was a 'Strawberry' and I was told it had been double dipped. The guy had a reputation for selling good acid so I happily gave him my cash. My being in Norwich was just a social visit over a couple of days and catching up with friends. On the last day there I decided to drop the tab and use my friends house as 'Trip HQ' He knew what I was up to, he had gone to work and left me his keys to make myself at home. I took the single LSD tab in the late morning in a positive state of mind with no worries or anxieties. I began to come up on the acid towards the lunch time. It was to be the first and last time I'd ever trip alone. Outside it was a glorious sunny day but I was happy enough in my temporary sanctuary to even think about going outside. The LSD rush started blazing up my spine and racing through my guts, I felt a little uneasy with it but had enough mind to allow myself to just go with it and wait until the rush plateaued.

It did just that a little later, I'd decided to sit in the upstairs of the house and listen to music on the radio in a sunlit bedroom. I was having a wonderful time, watching floral Escher type patterns breathing over my skin, I enjoyed looking in the mirror looking at my grinning face with very distinct map contour patterns gently washing over my flesh. Its seemed like a great start eh?  Well, I vaguely recall deciding to go downstairs again for some reason then the next thing I recall was awakening on the floor of the dining room alone. The first thing I noticed was that there were blowflies buzzing around a bowl of catfood on the kitchen floor (Which was in view) I remember feeling perplexed as to why both flies had two bright neon after images in red and blue. I sat up and tried to figure out why I was on the floor in the first place. Now its worth pointing out before I take you down my helter skelter that somehow because of my black out, I'd completely forgotten that I'd taken anything at all. Prior to tripping I'd also written myself a note of reassurance in case things got too weird. So, sitting up on the floor still, I found my note and tried to read it. Alas because I was acid addled the words made no sense to me. Instead they morphed like alien glyphs and danced around on the piece of paper.

It was then that my last little link to sanity crumbled and I heard my voice utter the terrifying words 'I've gone mad!' I had a feeling that I had to be somewhere else which then got heightened by the digital watch I was wearing suddenly bleeping a time alarm at me. but I had no idea why or what it meant.  So I left my sanctuary, I later found out that I left the back door wide open thus making the house entirely a burglars free for all. (Fortunately without that as a repercussion) I remember walking almost on auto pilot down a busy street heading towards town, I saw one of my old school teachers who also saw me, but the only thing I did was force a grin and keep on walking. I did indeed walk, not so much as a conscious effort or with any sense of intent, I felt utterly out of control, I collided with someone carrying their shopping -- vaguely heard them cuss at me as I continued in my stride, I turned down a passageway between two houses and strolled though the backdoor of a house I'd once lived in, past the new inhabitant and out the front door. I walked into the city center from there -- I still don't know how I survived crossing roads but I did.

I strolled into a city cafe where my friend's son was working, he saw me and said hello, but in my acid addled state of autopilot I just walked past him into the main cafe and sat down, then I stood up and walked out of the cafe without uttering a word.  Other than being completely out to lunch on LSD at that time in the trip, I don't recall hallucinating, moreover I was more a puppet on a string guided by some subconscious walking mechanism which had its own design on where I should be, there was certainly no cognitive thinking to my actions. After the brief cafe episode of the trip, the situation just went from bad to worse.  Somehow I'd navigated myself through Norwich during the busy lunchtime shoppers and begun to head in the direction of the city's central park 'Chapelfield gardens' As a child I'd always felt a sense of friendliness and comfort there. Now in my fried state the familiar comfort of this park had shifted to its polar opposite, I was now hallucinating on top of everything else. The people in the park were all walking around but my perception had begun to distort their heads and faces beyond any form of human recognition.

If you could imagine for a moment being surrounded by people in a busy place where their heads had been removed and replaced by Squids and Octopus you might begin to accurately picture the scene confronting me in the park. Everyone had tentacles smothering their faces and dangling down their necks like fleshy snake beards, even the women and children were not exempt from this disfiguration. The octopoid heads were white in appearance and each person seemed to have baleful staring eyes where their ears should have been. Even in my state of auto pilot I felt nothing but sheer terror at the alien swarm of people walking around me.  My feet had obviously decided to make evasive maneuvers because I then found myself out of the park having crossed yet another treacherous main road and was now heading towards a multi storey apartment block. I recall that I got inside the building somehow and wandered in circles on one of the floors of the apartment block, I seemed stuck in a loop of wanting to get out, walking around a circle of short corridors and arriving at a janitors cupboard, I would open the door expecting to find an exit and be confronted by a dead end with cleaning products and brooms. I would repeat this several times like a fly that desperately flies in circles around a kitchen only to collide with the same window again and again.

I don't remember how I finally broke the loop but I did. The next thing that happened was the memory of walking around some side streets, into someones back garden via an alley way, I recall a middle aged woman looking a little afraid of me being in her yard and rushing into her house closing the door behind her. I left the yard and I think I walked between two garages, the gap between them was tight, perhaps I tried to go through it anyway, In my mind I was a being trapped inside an ever tightening spiral that I relentlessly marched along. As the spiral tightened my body would begin to crush, if I were to continue down the spiral I would surely be crushed to my final atom. . .  I must have snapped out of that little loop of fractal thought mental torture, I was now adjacent to a main road in Norwich called 'Unthank road'. I was in a front garden of another house, the inside of my mouth felt like plant matter, when I tried to scream, my tongue shot out as a mix of flesh and thorny rose stem. The situation was utterly hopeless, and getting ever worse with each lysergic eternal minute. Over the other side of Unthank road from where I stood was a dental repair workshop, a discreet looking workplace that looked just as much part of the houses above it.

I recall that I walked into this workshop to the surprise of the men who were working there, I think they said 'Hey, where do you think you're going ' etc, but I was too far gone and on my way out again still under the guidance of this momentum and hidden agenda of the auto pilot within me.  The adjacent side street began the final demise of my terrifying trip, you'll have to indulge me in this part and go with the flow of reality and abstract woven together. First off, like a lemming I walked across this side road, onto the pavement then promptly plummeted a good seven ft into someones basement flat, there had probably been a flight of steps leading down to this concrete pit but I didn't see them and wouldn't have known what to do with them if I had. I guess I clambered up to street level again and limped my way up this street which was a bit of a cul de sac. Part of my subconscious memory must have recalled that an ex girlfriend had lived at the end of the street. I found myself walking up to her old front door which was one of those aluminium framed, double glazed types.

I recall my reflection looking somewhat like a Francis Bacon painting, a mixture of anguished flesh and black oils ripping like blood down my body.  I was falling in eternal darkness, like a fleshy sack of bricks. As I fell forever I would crash through intermittent panes of glass which would shatter and tear me in my never ending descent. With the sound of breaking glass was the wavering crescendo of the word 'Mad' repeating in waves. . . mad, Mad, MAD, MAAAD,MAAAAAD,MAD,Mad,mad over and over as I plummeted, ripped and torn in darkness with splinters of glass falling beside me.  Back on the street a voice was saying'There is a way out of this, there is a word, and if it all ever gets too much you just say '_____________' and a door will open to allow you away from here'  Back on the street I had staggered a few more paces then fallen. I was now a seven year old child lying on the pavement, my best friends parents stood over me feeling concerned 'What happened', 'He's hit his head', 'Call an ambulance'. A disk-shaped hole appeared above me with someones arm reaching down to me to try and pull me up into safety, I tried to reach the grasping hand but couldn’t, then the hole disappeared.

I was staggering along the street again at the bottom of the cul-de-sac. My gaze lifted to the sky and the sky's gaze fell upon me, each cloud was now a giant type of amoeba type organism, covered in dots which pulsed in colour like the skin of a cuttlefish, each giant amoeba had a giant blue human looking eye observing me. I could hear voices taunting me, telling me I was stupid, telling me how thick I was for looking for the answers, telling me I had spastic consciousness. The amoebas seemed to be singing a never ending song which was something like this. . .  'I'm an umpsquamadic peel and if I ever know what I feel, then I know that I felt like this before and I always knew what I was timely for. . . ' (Repeat into infinity with a chorus of about 1000 people!)  I briefly saw existence as a giant clock face of a billion dots between each second, the dots were ticking forward in a relentless advance like the movement of a second hand. Each dot was the equivalent of someones lifetime. The internal monologue described that living and dying was part of this eternal chain, It showed me that there was a gap of nothing at the point which marked 12 on the clock face and that was a one second break from the never ending cycle of existence that any soul would have.

Then the monologue started laughing at my dismay.  In reality I briefly became conscious enough to recognize that I was stumbling through a small children's play area at the base of the cul-de-sac. Its worth describing to you a little about the geography of where I was. Adjacent to the cul-de-sac is a small path which leads to about four flights of stone steps leading to a street below. This street is called 'Park lane'. If you go through the gap in the fence at the back of the childrens play area there is a steep foliage ridden embankment that leads down to a flint gravel parking area at the rear of a Park lane hotel. Guess which route I took!  In reality I passed through the gap in the fence, failed to notice the dangerous drop below me then tumbled down the embankment onto the flint parking area. I was crawling on my hands and knees by this point. A piece of flint had torn the palm of my hand making it look like a stigmata wound which was pretty appropriate to the following delusion. . .  I was in a place that looked like 'The sea of holes' from the Beatles 'Yellow submarine' movie.

This was a white void with an infinity of swarming black dots, I could hear air raid sirens and the sound of buzzing, In the sea of holes was a giant cross which had a festering bloody pile of guts and organs spread across it staining the wood crimson. The guts were smothered in wasps stinging the ruined flesh causing venomous pustules. It was an image of impossible pain then the monologue returned booming over the sirens and drone of the wasps 'This is Christ, he's still suffering for your sins, still paying the price. . . ' More laughter, then a fleeting moment of reality. I had crawled across Park lane and collapsed in the gutter on the other side of the road, my jacket was gone, there were cuts and grazes over my bare arms. A wasp had landed by my elbow and was making a snack for itself on one of my cuts, I remember trying to brush it away and it stinging me as I did. Over the other side of the street I saw a woman pushing a pram and looking at me with concern but now I had returned to acid Hell again.

My body was a giant mass of green flesh punctured all over by cactus-like thorns that had grown from within and broken my skin on the way out. I had no arms or legs, I was more like a mass of tendrils with an apple shaped mass at the top. My form was that of pain, nothing more and nothing less.  A brief flash of a police car pulling up beside me, someone getting out. . .  I was pain, floating in the sea of holes, there were a billion holes, each one a passage leading to another identical ocean of swarming black dots. The monologue told me there was only one hole which lead away from here. . .  I was in a hospital, lying on a padded vinyl mattress with medics standing around me, I was human-shape again. The doors of the room I was in swung open to reveal an idyllic country side scene of green hilly pastures, bathed in glorious sunlight and a friendly looking old Oak tree in the foreground view, if only I could crawl through those doors I would be safe, my soul saved. But I couldn't move, the doors swung shut then opened again, now I could see a hospital corridor instead of the fields, someone was being pushed past on a stretcher trolley.

Back in the sea of holes it seemed that my gaze in any direction would erase the back dots in their masses, for the first time in this nightmare trip I felt a sense of conscious hope. I began to wipe swathes of dots by sweeping glances into the void around me. . .  'What have you taken?'  I was gaining hope by the minute, stripping the black dots away, removing these taunting false exits. . .  'What have you taken? Was it acid?'  Surrounded by a self-created white void of comfort I gazed at the final bunch of black dots and knew my release from Hell was merely held by these remaining few. . .  'He's out of it still'  I had gazed all but two of the black dots away, these two now had a bridge akin to a line seen in a dot to dot puzzle, in my mind my voice returned as I stared at each dot, I heard my own internal voice yelling 'One Two, One, Two, One one, Two. . . ' Then The two dots looked like my own hands with cuffs around them. The black line bridge had become a visible chain, the white void had faded to become a hospital room. I was in fact on my back on a hospital bed with my arms trapped beneath me, I was looking through my legs at my wrists grazed with the rubbing pressure of police hand cuffs around them, then I yelled 'Get these fucking hand cuffs off me!'

In the room with me were a male and female police officer from the Norfolk constabulary, they had obviously been the people who had lifted me from the Park lane gutter and taken me to hospital. The male officer obliged my demand and removed the cuffs. The woman police officer asked me stuff like my name, If I knew where I was but the best I could muster was a brief groan. They both looked a bit frustrated and left me in the room on the hospital bed alone. I was rapidly regaining my sense of self and conscious of reality. I recalled that I had indeed dropped acid sometime earlier, my Hospital surroundings and the amount of cuts and bruises I had were confirmation to me that whatever I'd done, it had seriously backfired big time!  I sat on the edge of the hospital bed, noted a number of missing items I had recalled having on my person prior to all of this. I found my pumps in the bedside cabinet and put them on. Then I took my first deliberate steps across the room I was in. The bizarre nature of this entire episode had one final twist installed for me.

I recall walking to the door of my single bed room and opening it, a few feet away from me were the two police officers facing each other having an intense conversation about what to do about me. They were so engrossed in their discussion that neither noticed as I came out of the room and begun walking down the hospital corridor. There was a window that stood from floor to ceiling, the type that pivots in the central vertical axis, so judging that I could fit through the gap, I squeezed through it!  There is little left to tell of this story, except to say my walk from the hospital to the train station was quite distressing, I was in a lot of pain. Had stitches in my chin, my elbow and hand. My right forearm had swollen up purple making it look like Popeye's right hook. I was still semi hallucinating but very aware of how I'd nearly died and how I had a lot of explaining to do when I got home to my girlfriend. There were no legal repercussions for giving the police the slip, I had caught a train back home to a village in Suffolk which was not in the jurisdiction of the Norfolk constabulary, however they had contacted my father who was in Norfolk, so I had quite a bit of explaining to do for him too!

In retrospect, it was the worst day of my entire life, It was the closest I can imagine to having full blown psychosis. I think it was nothing short of a miracle that I didn't end up over someones car bonnet or worse. Do I believe the monologues and symbols of that day? I'm not entirely sure I do, I now understand that intense adrenalin bursts whilst hallucinating are responsible for dragging the mind into the abyss of fear and worst possible scenarios. I kind of feel that I would have a very bleak outlook for life and reality if I believed for a moment that anything I saw in that trip was true. I've had some other trips which were glorious and the polar opposite of that day.

So I tend to agree with Aldous Huxley that Heaven and Hell are both valid states of consciousness, It all depends on where the person is at and how we navigate through the psychedelic state which determines which destination we arrive at. If anything puzzles me at all about that day, it would have to be the black-out I experienced early in the trip, I suspect that had I not lost consciousness I would probably have not forgotten that I took the drug and therefore wouldn't have panicked myself into an internal Hell fractal.

Exp Year: 1992	ExpID: 15901

Gender: Male

Age at time of experience: Not Given

Published: Oct 5, 2003	Views: 96,075

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LSD (2) : Hospital (36), Bad Trips (6), General (1)