Quote:
Originally Posted by EVOLghost
Hmm....I dig. I've always loved mushrooms. I haven't had any for a while...I knew someone who had chocolate with psilocybin in 'em but I haven't had a chance to grab any.
One thing I do not understand is the so called "bad trips". A friend of mine had one and just couldn't get the thought of death out of his mind. he said he constantly thought he could die at any moment, and at first I tried to understand him, but then one Friday night I decided to stay in and take a few grams(awesome night listening to De-Loused in a Comatorium). I tried to engage the thought of death and stuff, but it did not bring me down one bit. I simply wasn't afraid of not existing anymore.
I would say the closest thing to a bad trip for me was simply not knowing what to do next. One day I was suppose to trip with a few friends, but it only ended being me and another. We were in a house with friends and stuff but as the night went on, we were left alone in the basement. I was blissfully ignorant listening to ATL on my computer, when my friend asks me, "so...what do we do now?" This question was everything to us from that point on. We simply could not comprehend the meaning behind any action, phrase, sentence, or thought. And while we were "coming down" everything still kept going back to that single thought. Being moreso in our "right mind" we did not contemplate much on that thought, however it still stood in the back of our minds.
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I used to not believe in the bad trip horror stories, I thought they were Reaganomic fear tactics or simply psychedelic cheveunism by the OGs when I was a youngster coming up. Then I discovered bad trips, not my own, but others with me. I have had hundreds of mushroom sessions with dozens of people, and 99.9% of the time it went perfect, however there have been three distinct horror stories which are indeed terrifying. My friend Jeremy lost his mind completely, utterly, absolutely, and it took two hours for him simply to understand that "he was Jeremy" and during such he was wild, kicking, spitting, yelling histeric and incoherent statements that were still quite insightful when analyzed later. Then another time my friend Demond also lost his mind, he became English, with a full cockney accent for about three hours. I tried to send him home because he needed to rematerialize in his own house with his own family and pictures of himself on the wall, because unlike jeremy, demond's dissassociative condition was only escalating and he was becoming even dangerous and hostile, aside from having completely lost his mind. that being said, I rarely through mushroom parties anymore because like the article suggests, psilocybin experiences draw out only scars and psychological wounds like a salve to a nasty boil, and sometimes the rupture can be disturbing and smelly like the actual wound.
My own horror stories are not with psylocybin, mushrooms are my Ally, but with Daturas I have had serious problems. On hells bells, the initial trip was quite pleasant. I actually hallucinated, not visuals or trails, but a real hallucination, that there was sitting with me in my front yard every friend I have ever had, and they all were sitting in the same green lawn chair that I was, and I was walking around telling jokes with all of them smoking cigarettes. After somebody I hadn't seen in years said a funny joke, I recall laughing, and then realizing I was standing alone in my yard at 3AM. So I go inside laughing, and plopped down on my bed. When I felt the bundle of plankets I jumped up thinking I had just jumped on my sleeping girlfriend. The only catch was that she had left, in fact the whole reason I drank that nasty brew was because she had left earlier that night so I went across the street to hang out where they offered me that brew. Next I had dyslexia for two solid days, terrifying auditory hallucinations, and a constant stream of visuals and trails, which lasted for 8 consecutive days, and didn't fully subside for 14 days. I had to go to court the next morning, which was a surreal experience. I couldn't think straight, I couldn't read, I was paranoid, bug eyed blinging, and seeing trails on everything. The worst part was my brain would literallly just stop and pause, midsentance and I'd be stuck there with my mouth hanging open like certain schizophrenic disorders, my mind was fully aware of what was happening, but my body simply couldn't respond. The weirdest part was that after about 30 seconds hanging there, I would suddenly just pick up talking exactly to the syllable I left on, even though my mind had been still aware, the tape rewinded to the original thought.
By the seventh day, I had come to accept a colorful world of trails and visuals as my ordinary reality, and that I must have fucked up. Of course, the true psychonaut that I am, I drank that noxious brew again with less drastic results. Then a few years later I smoked Salvia. The first time was nice, pleasant, like a candy fry with mickey mouse visuals, trails. So I smoked a different batch. The strongest trip ever. I actually hallucinated. Fully. I left all reality and went into another, terrifying dimension filled with characters more bizarre then a Clive Barker novel. This seemed to be an absolute eternity, however the actual durration I am told was about 2 minutes. They said I suddenly dropped the bong and started spinning uncontrollably and with increasing speed on the floor like the three stooges. I recall coming to in the front yard, when I noticed the sun again, and celebrated life coming back to me, because in the vision the most frightening thing I heard was one of the characters in the vision said:
"Oh shit, fuck.. another one of them has woken up, now he is going to be like the others and swear he comes from some world where he is a person, and walks, and talks, and has this God named Jesus.."
to which another interrupted and said, "Damn, just like all the others.."
and a third then spoke to me when he noticed I was overhearing this dialogue and told me, "Its ok. This is the real world. There is no such thing as humans with legs who talk. All of that was just a bad dream you were having, its not real, this is whats real."
In true psychonaut style, I also smoked this batch again, surprisingly with the EXACT same results, took me to the EXACT same dimension, inhabited by the EXACT same characters. The only thing that had brought be back to reality? Chanting the one thing that made me feel a bit of control and cognition, the Jesus Prayer "Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me." That is what transported me into the front yard to reappear in our reality.
The vision of that world has never left me. it looked exactly like those Reebok shoes with all the faces on the bottom, thats what all those characters were, with vertical zippers for mouths, and we were all cogs in a wheel, like a tank, and there was a pulsating "tread" which rhythmically rolled over me, which felt like being tossed by a wave at the beach. This I understand is
The Wheel.This is why I am a Christian by the way, but its not a story I can share with my sunday school class ;)
