DOSE:	3.5 g	oral	Mushrooms	(dried)
	1.0 g	smoked	Cannabis	(plant material)

BODY WEIGHT:

180 lb

I had always been curious about shrooming, so when my younger brother, A, found a rig in our dry city, we jumped at the chance and bought 3 eighths. The shrooms were like nothing I'd ever seen before; small, silver caps with short stems--about an inch tall in full form. The dealer was going to sell us a half ounce, but there was some complication so we bought a couple grams of weed instead of the last eighth.

We waited for my girlfriend, E, to arrive, and at around 10 pm we all popped an eighth. Around 45 minutes later A, having the most experience with shrooms, began to visibly trip--goofy smiles and inattentiveness was all we could really pull out of him. I couldn't wait. Shortly thereafter I began to see patterns form on the drapes, lights, ceiling fans, pretty much everything I looked at. Shadows began to skew and stretch in my peripheral vision, and after maybe five minutes things would just slide out of place and morph in front of my very eyes. I was having, as I was convinced, the quintessential shroom trip.

I got up and walked around, noticing that I would stumble and sway as if I had just pounded 8 beers. I was also more energetic, happier, and felt like I could take on anything, also as if I had pounded 8 beers, though I didn't feel mentally sloppy or sick. I kept saying 'Whooooaaaaaaa' over and over again, with new cause every time. I'd never experienced anything like this, and it constantly blew my mind. I found that my voice *leaked* somewhat, I would involuntarily let out a guttural 'uhhhh' or 'tuhhhh' after every time I spoke. This was all about fifteen minutes into the trip.

We went outside to look at the sky and I remember it rather clearly as the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen, the full moon lit up the clouds in such a way that they were sharply defined, and they began shifting around to form images of a great historic battle looking scene. Pumped up, (semi) clear minded, and eager to trip harder, A and I decided to hit the weed we got. Having been smoking for a few years, and very comfortable with a weed high, we loaded up all of it in a two person rotation, E only took a couple tokes. That's when sanity left my grasp for what seemed like days.

I couldn't exactly light the bong too well near the end of it, but I kept hitting it for some reason. I looked down at it as I took a hit and honestly thought that the bong was my body, which made me crack up. I can't exactly remember the order of the next events, but here is what I do remember.

We all sat on my bed for what was the longest three hours of my life. We felt tied to it, almost. A tried to go to his room and sleep the trip off, but came back within a minute because the lonliness scared him and he couldn't stop tripping balls, especially in the dark. He lied down next to me and I remember feeling awful and looking at him, and all I could say was 'Shit just ain't right....shit just ain't...right.' In the peak of it, I couldn't remember how to speak, and any time anyone would talk I would just hear this noise that sounded like 'stdornk' over and over.

For about 45 minutes I would frantically ask E what time it was at least twice a minute, but would not remember any of it until she mentioned that I would keep asking it over and over. She was *immensely* helpful in my trip, as she set her alarm for half an hour and kept counting down the minutes, saying this would all be over when it went off. Of course, it didn't, but it helped the time pass a great deal.

I'd entirely forgotten what it was like to be in my right mind by then, and was convinced that I was going to exist only in this tortured state of mind forever. I kept trying to convince myself that it was all mental and I was just doing it to myself, but I couldn't concentrate on a single thought long enough, as I would mentally break down and forget how to think in terms of words.

I got up and puked sometime in the night, and I remember looking down and seeing that it was red. I kept a level head about it, not letting the blood red puke freak me out, but I felt incredibly lonely. I told my companions, who were not 8 feet away, that a little company would really help. They came over and consoled me, and when I asked if what I puked up was blood, they stifled my question and set me down. I have since puked blood on a much lighter shroom trip, and am pretty convinced that they do something to my stomach lining. E graciously cleaned up the mess, as A and I were in absolutely no shape to do it.

At around 2:30 AM, still wide awake and tripping insanity, I felt my first pang of sobriety flow through me like a rush of cool water. That was the first moment I realized I wasn't going to trip the rest of my life. Having been thrust back into shroomheadedness not a half second later, all I could say was 'We're gonna be sober again guys, we're gonna be fine.' This, of course, was of no consolation to my tripping companions.

Fifteen minutes later, I popped entirely back into sanity, and the feeling was akin to waking up from a really violent nightmare. I was still feeling the mental affects from the shrooms, and my visuals came back (I don't remember having any visuals while being under), and I just wanted to hug my brother and let him know that he was going to come out of it any minute. Sure enough, he popped out five minutes later and went to go wash up in his bathroom.

E was still tripping, though not as bad as we were, and I held her and spoke kind words to her, letting her know that she was going to be alright. A came back into my room, and all we could do was shake our heads in disbelief that we came back from the hell we just went through not 10 minutes ago. We didn't have the gumption to talk about it that night, but he and I both agreed that it was the best mornings of our lives. E and I stayed up until sunrise and went outside to look at the ocean--the sunlight and the cool morning air played euphorically to our still-shroomed senses. It was, by far, the most beautiful morning I'd ever experienced.

I will never take it back, as it gave me such a vivid view of insanity, but I am scared to death of going through it again. I've never truly had a driving fear that would pain me to think about. Since the shroom trip, however, I feel that hell is underdescribed in biblical scriptures, as the torture I went through was on an ENTIRELY different level of intensity from any other pain I've ever felt, and with 9 broken bones and a coupla third degree burns, I can say that I've felt pretty intense pain. What do I fear now? Insanity--and only that.

About a month later, A and I were listening to the song 'Soul to Squeeze' by RHCP. This song had never really been a favorite of mine, just another typical RHCP song, but this time as we were listening to it, it hit my brother like a lightning bolt--it *exactly* described our shroom trip. I do believe Kiedis puts it perfectly:

Insanity, it seems, has got me by my soul to squeeze.

...

I’m much better but I won’t regret it never.

Exp Year: 2004	ExpID: 36812
Gender: Male
Age at time of experience: Not Given
Published: Jul 22, 2007	Views: 6,633
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