DOSE: T+ 0:00	150 mg	oral	6-APB
T+ 0:00	1 line	insufflated	Methoxetamine
T+ 12:00	300 mg	insufflated	Methoxetamine
T+ 0:00		oral	Pharms - Zopiclone

BODY WEIGHT:

80 kg

I'm having to be careful with writing as words are still coming out jumbled at times.

This Saturday and Sunday saw my body and soul play host to something so far outside the realm of normal experience that it defies all logic trying to put it into words. The word numinous was invented just for this type of occasion, yet I feel so compelled that here I am, mentally and physically exhausted, yet putting fingers to keyboard.

Talk of the source of all inspiration and creativity being so finely tuned to madness has never been so objectively apparent to me as now. It's the day after the experience but I can still feel the overarching consciousness of all being churning away in the background. Everything creative and inspirational, love incarnate, in everything I breathe or touch. I went to the supermarket today, lovingly selecting organic fruits and vegetables...able to taste them and feel their power before even picking them up. I seemed to naturally shy away from non-free range meats, the prospect of consuming meat of suffering sub-consciously perverse. I've only recently recovered the powers of cogent thought. Able to think thoughts through lucidly, without phasing out and beginning to vibrate away.

All of this already sounds like the thoughts of a ranting hippy. Some crazed, drug-fuelled new age idiot, trying to save the world by raising consciousness. Yet while this mindset and understanding is one that I have experienced in great detail, and while I now understand for FACT, that reality is constructed of different levels, that we attune to these different levels by raising the vibrational frequency of our being, that most things I read in new age literature are indeed correct, that religions are simply arcane magics tapping into the same sources of power through different channels, that death will simply be the next step in the great journey we all face, despite knowing all this like I know my name...I'm actually a relatively normal, unassuming person integrated with the world of business. Academic. Intelligent. Generally well liked by all. Funny. Sometimes shy, sometimes bold. Life has always seemed to just fall into my lap without really having to try at anything. Other than phases of being terrible with, and hung up on women, my life has been blessed, and certainly not maladjusted in any particular way.

The one thing that has, however, always made me stand out from the crowd in my minds eye, has been my powerful fascination for drugs - particularly psychedelics, and the exploration of the unseen realms.

My path began as just a wee child. My dad committed suicide when I was 6 years old and my mother having had me late in life after raising a whole family, did the most amazing job I could've ever hoped for. While mostly poor and on the benefit, she worked hard at cleaning jobs on the side to keep us in good areas and send me to good schools. I can never thank her enough for this. Fueled by a passion for reading and learning, a sharp mind, and mostly intelligent and varied friends, I went on to be a high performer at school. Never really trying, I burned through high grades with almost no effort, and by intermediate school, without any real interest in the subject matter.

Drugs started young -- I can never really put my finger on quite how. Older friends that were bad influences I guess were where they started it off I guess, but I really kicked into my own initiative with the drinking and smoking young. By age 11 I was drinking and smoking at school with a small group of mischievous minions. By 13 I was smoking pot regularly(ish) and by 14, I'd smoke every weekend or more (finances depending; I had no entrepreneurial logic and few sources outside dodgy Otara for a $20 tinny). By 15 this had developed into reasonably strong dependence that was to last a large number of years. I did every assignment stoned in a last minute panic (this persisted to my last semester of university when my GPA went up noticeably, but the required time then quadrupled).

I went to work at crummy jobs stoned. I even visited my Christian friends house stoned. I suspect they knew. I knew my mom knew. Yet nobody said anything, and life somehow stayed on track. Almost all of my spare time was spent playing counterstrike or other games. Three buckets after school, onto 3 hours of counterstrike, dinner, 3 more buckets then counterstrike till 1 or 2 followed by a snack, then a crash before school. I wasn't the only person my age doing this. There was this whole massive online culture of it. Yet somehow I retained uninvolved friends, and never got lower than a B unless deliberate.

In seventh form I became obsessed with a girl I couldn't have and this led to a spiral of hateful, painful depression where smoking pot was both my catharsis and my spike trap. I see now that while it would temporarily alleviate the symptoms, it left me powerless to escape its prickly black tendrils. The next 4 years of my life were defined by a strange schizophrenic split, whereby on one hand I maintained a nice, normal group of high achieving friends, whilst on the other I hung out with well meaning scum bags and got into minor criminal behaviour -- theft (which went on a surprisingly long time, and to a seemingly bizarre extent, whole trolleys full of cigarettes, liquor, top shelf meat...), vandalism, idiocy in a car. I was never much into fighting and the likes even though I'm actually a black belt at kung fu and can throw a nasty punch for a tall, lanky unassuming fella, but pretty much all the other usual degeneracy was commonplace on weekends.

This, of course, always entailed frequent drug use, and I took whatever I could get my hands on. I tried lots of weird creative stuff after reading about it online (never to much avail) but I also took LSD, magic mushrooms, methamphetamine, all on a number of occasions, and continued smoking pot unabatedly. I continued through University in the same vein (studying law/arts of all things...) performing highly, getting stoned, and having it all continue to fall into my lap without a second thought. I was horrifically depressed and thought frequently of killing myself, often in considerable detail. As a younger person I'd always thought closely on religion and had loosely Christian beliefs. Many of my good friends were fundamental Christians and engaged in a great deal of, what I perceived, to be crazy shit...speaking in tongues, possession by the spirit et al. As I slunk deeper into the inescapable pit of depression, I remember crying out to anything to please save me. At first it was Jesus, then it was Satan, then it was anything that would listen. I cried for days at a time, sometimes staying up literally all night crying the night before an exam, yet still keeping my shit together, somehow. My school friends could see me fading and frazzling, but they didn't understand and I sure as hell didn't want to talk about it with anybody.

The magical impetus for change came with a trip to Europe at age 20 (I'm from New Zealand...the greatest country in the world), and with it, new experiences. The latest girl that I'd been obsessed with for a couple of years (she had a boyfriend but clearly liked me) joined me with another friend, and we travelled around the place, me still stuck in my despair and obsessed, but putting a brave face to it and plowing on. On my 21st birthday, I'd peeled off by myself and had been staying in Amsterdam. That night I took a double dose of Hawaiian mushrooms. I'd been told they were the strongest weight for weight, but now I just understand they are a substrain of subaeruginosa, which grows rampant in New Zealand. Nonetheless, they were STRONG and this was my first taste of madness. I remember the low slung clouds parting over Dam Square to reveal a full moon and being dazzled and transfixed when a green vortex started slowly coming down out of the moon towards me. This was just like the movies, just like the Beatles described, just like everybody had warned me about. And not surprisingly, for a youngster in a fragile state, still thinking about killing himself, it was all too much. I wandered the streets in a manic haze ranting nonsensical gibberish at anybody that would look at me for more than a second. What a state. My first taste of psychosis. Of a schizoid psychedelic state. Yet this was only the beginning.

Upon returning to NZ I immersed myself into the dance music scene seemingly out of nowhere. I just started going to dance parties with a dropkick druggy mate (lovely guy, I shouldn't speak so critically...just a multiple felony kind of unconscious fulla) and ended up in the hardhouse scene. This was BOOMING in NZ at one particular infamous club that shall not be named. Probably one of the most intense scenes in the world for this kind of thing. Not surprisingly, drug use was a central tenet. Over the years, my focus changed to one of being entirely focussed on the weekend, going out, taking drugs, and dancing all night. I loved the music and the way it made me feel when I was high. The way dancing in this strange aerobic, stomping style that was unique to the scene in Auckland seemed to trigger off the peaks of the drugs even harder. I took pills of all descriptions, I took G, I took all manner of psychedelics. I took so many RC's that I've lost count. The world of drugs just opened up to me, and experimentation had replaced that black vacuum in the pit of my stomach that used to drain my will to be alive.

I researched online and found out about mushrooms. I found a patch on my street, then suddenly they were everywhere. I knew my mind was still a fragile eco-system, but the momentum was impossible to shutdown.

I moved out of home when I finished law school (quite late, maybe 23) and into an amazing flat I love so dearly in the centre of Auckland city. This location would come to define and grow my life for the next 5 years, as well as setting the scene for some pretty crazy behaviour. I didn't even graduate at first because I couldn't be bothered finishing my last two research papers. I ended up dropping honours to cross credit and doing it some two years later. Instead I got a job at a porn store working 3.5 days a week, and dedicated my life to drugs. I began selling all manner of everything. My girlfriend of the time, who was something of a lifesaver, and somebody who I think gained a great deal of mutual gratification out of our relationship, opened up all sorts of interesting doors and contacts. I fell into association with an online dance music forum and somehow became even further immersed in the scene. We became tight friends with another couple. They also sold drugs but had some more serious contacts given their full time, expensive habit of smoking crack. We would pool resources. I'd get the acid and pot through old contacts and the G through a contact of my girlfriends. They'd always get the pills, which was a real profit maker in a hugely inflated market.

There was never any ketamine around at the time, and I never really smoked crack after having one of my early acquaintances really flip out on it and lose the plot, but everything else was fair game. Hiring hotel rooms to engage in 3 day benders ending with g, nos and psychedelics was not uncommon. People would come to us to buy whatever we could provide, which was most stuff you could imagine and usually of a very high quality. We sold pretty large amounts of drugs, mostly to contacts made through the website, but also to a large range of people from different scenes that just sort of sprang out of the cracks. We weren't really careful till much later in life, using text messages and such. But we never put ourselves in a position where we'd get caught, and we were lucky I guess. Many of the people from that time have remained friends or at least strong acquaintances. The good mate we were selling with frazzled out on crack and lost the plot. His girlfriend pretty much stopped drugs and eventually left the scene. She needed it. Overall, it was a beautiful, hazy, frittered period of my life. Almost all of the money I made was spent on drugs, partying, and just giving stuff away to whoever needed it. I've never cared much about money because I've never had to worry about it.

As time passed any my friendships strengthened, my personality became stronger and more developed and some of us began getting into some pretty experimental shit. By heavy, I'm talking mind altering shit, not junkie shit. We took high doses of mushrooms (up to 5 or 6 grams of dried subs), and high doses of strong LSD. We'd take designer psychedelics, flip them with strong pills, then see what happens when we did a nos (which we got in med grade tanks). I went pretty far out there, and had a number of psychotic episodes, usually apocalyptic or communion based, but I never turned much thought towards it. Much of it is hazy and there is no need to go into detail.

I remember when ketamine first came into the picture, and that just changed everything for combinations. The first time me and a good mate tried mushrooms and ketamine together we were blown away. The control is immaculate. The ketamine calms the body load and adds psychic control, whereas the mushrooms empower the experience psychedelically and add lucidity. This was the first time I was ever visited by a lower-order spiritual entity. When the ketamine was added I could feel my brain moving, changing, re-tuning. And I could feel the vibrations of this creature touching me. I could see its outline in the real world. Like an amorphous, transparent blob floating above me, bringing me joy. Other entities tuned into my hearing sense and asked to commune with me. One 'witch doctor dude' gave me a vision of a strange troll like creature and spoke in a deep menacing tone (never in English of course, but I felt the gist of what he wanted). I turned him away. Another, potion bitch, was so eminently likeable with her high pitched pushy incantations that I had to let her in. ZAP. My brain realigned, the room spiralled. Everything changed. Did anything about me change? I don't know. It was certainly an experience.

My interest in drugs and their relationship to spirituality began to grow, but only really on a subconscious level. I read a lot on the drugs aspect, but made no effort to raise my consciousness, and frankly, still fucked around doing a LOT of drugs than I should, though never quite letting it get out of control. I'd one day just stopped smoking pot and never looked back, and after that it didn't feel like anything much could stand in my way. Ketamine though, had a sneaky little way of branching into my thoughts and I began REALLY abusing it.

I'm pretty anti-needles, but super high doses were the order of the day so it had to be 250mg+ up the nose, BAM. Guaranteed k hole. The nature of these experiences was often similar, but every now and then something would sweep into the room, and carry me away to show me about reality. These were fundamentally different experiences marked by moments of simultaneous lucid clarity with whomever I might be sharing the experience (sometimes there was nobody else in the room, and I'd often become confused). They were beautiful, and life changing, but always fleeting, and I chased them. Even with a halfway decent job now, I'd still get on it during the week after getting home from work. I'd often be unable to sleep as a result. Always chasing the psychedelic dragon.

The ketamine caused temporary insanity sometimes, but always wore down with the drug. Mushrooms and ketamine continued to be a favourite for getting right out there with, but boy-howdy, those high doses of mushrooms started REALLY causing some casualties. Lots of acquaintances and people I knew started fucking out a bit psychologically. We'd reached a bit of a wall. Gone as far as we could without doing temporary psychic injury to even the strongest of us. I was terrible. I had apocalyptic blow back on more than one occasion. My beautiful friends, who I love so very much, quietly and lovingly steered me away from psychedelics, and they were right. My brain isn't cut out for the shit I get taught there. My grip on reality is too tenuous.

But still the ketamine. I would frequently experience death on it. Cosmic oneness. Lucid projections through different levels of reality. Genuine journeys. Many people don't get these or can't remember them. Believe me, I do. For this I'm thankful. I suspect it may relate somewhat to how conscious a person is, and their natural frequency, or perhaps some kind of innate psychic abilities, which I've begun to suspect I may possess. But this I have no real understanding of, and I'm OK with that.

I remember at one huge gig there was a bit of an occasion - a good mutual acquaintance had got a set on the main stage and this was pretty cool. Three of us took a strong pill, massive amounts of mushrooms, then I took a huge line of ketamine and sprawled up on the mezzanine, gleefully owning the entire St James theatre. Without going into the experience, I came out of the ketamine knowing all this stuff about the makeup of life, and how everything worked on a spiritual level. The bizarre thing is, this stuff all equated very closely with stuff I later read on eastern religions, Buddhism, Theosophy and the like. I'd previously had no knowledge or experience of any of it.

My penchant for raising my consciousness had begun and I failed, and continue to fail miserably for so long, but became interested in things like astral travel and lucid dreaming. I had a few sober experiences, one of them lucid, bizarre, and totally unexplainable in light of drugs (it was in Cusco on holiday and I hadn't really gotten into anything for some time at that point), but for the most part, my religious sacrament remained ketamine, and I used it to regain a sense of being, and oneness. Tensions would rise at my flat for weeks. Ever more agitated at foolish little trifles like dishes or other things. Then we'd k-hole together and come out, apologise for everything and go back to our blissful ways.

I should mention at this point that this behaviour was all engaged in with the highest level of knowledge. I've been frequenting [websites] for years, as well as local drug communities. I know a shitload about how drugs interact, how they work, and how to minimise harm. I always REALLY focussed on making people I'd sold to or munted with learn about what they're doing to themselves and how to do it safely. My home was something of a haven to younger members of the community who were often introduced to new things there, and could come if they needed somewhere safe at any hour.

Yet I was still pretty reckless and persistet with myself. Most friends drifted away from drugs without lasting ill effects. They pretty much all lead happy, normal, healthy and productive lives now, some of them being quite high achievers and doing what they do well while retaining some involvement with drug culture. One friend has lasting mental health problems and can't be involved with drugs any more. A few others have had some pretty close calls -- stuck in bad trips for months and the like. I think I may have fucked my liver from ketamine after some tests (the doctor explained that it looked exactly like alcohol related damage, minus one key marker that indicated alcohol, and I don't binge drink at all really), but I don't really care to explore the prospect further, and will take death or ill health as/if it comes as somebody who feels like an old soul who has lived to tell the tale.

The years passed and I got into all sorts of shit on the side, fleeting hobbies, mostly cool shit, and always with this strange sense of knowing. In recent times I've REALLY raised my consciousness a lot. I stopped biting my nails several days ago for the first time since I was 5 and have only been eating free range meats. I hope to cut out meat altogether one day. I exercise, and otherwise look after myself. I'm now 28 and I moved to London recently where I've recently settled.

This is extensive set and setting information for what stands as by far the most significant event of my life to date. It was beautiful and terrifying at the same time. I don't think anybody alive can really get any further into the matrix of reality than this. But I don't think our minds are equipped to handle this level of reality. At all. The mad people have just tuned in too far. They can't order their thoughts because they've lost their filters, like spiritual autism on multiple layers of reality. I know acutely what schizophrenia feels like, now more than ever before, and it's really not pretty. I would work with people in the area but I don't think I have the mental fortitude or the patience.

I digress, a lot. But I feel like background is necessary to understand the level of experience I have, and how unexpected this was. I really felt I was slowly winding down my drug career after doing as much as my brain could handle. I mostly only ever take drugs in the context of gigs now -- I've long moved into dubstep as the new ritual of dance. Dark and powerful, moving and primal.

Upon moving here I got my hands on a large quantity of 6-APB in powder form and Methoxetamine -- both of which are legal under non-existent analogue laws, and -- according to my extensive research, the best things I could buy now that G and Methylone had been banned. It's not that I didn't have my sources for illegal stuff over here straight away. It's just fun to venture forward into new territories.

The first time I did 6-APB I significantly underdosed. Consequently, the second time I mixed it with Methoxetamine and probably overdid it. No problems though. I consider myself virtually invincible with anything that isn't a real psychedelic and I took it in my stride. A friend even accidentally double dosed (approx 300mg) and seemed to get away with it, though did complain of significant overheating and dryness.

6-APB is an MDA analogue. It is long lasting as shit, and is lovey, and peaky, but its energy really is a tripper energy, not a pilling energy. Finding that old energy in a safer context was invigorating. Renewing. The visuals were mild but the feelings of oneness and interconnectedness intense. People took on that same surreal but familiar hue...that darkness and shadowy sharpness to the eyes. Energy bristling and sparking. The shit is awesome, but REALLY leaves me cracked out and drained afterwards. I don't know what I'd do without sleeping pills. Being a terrible, light sleeper can be a curse.

Methoxetamine is a ketamine analogue. It is longer lasting, less (if at all) anesthetizing, and quite a strong stimulant. I did a few lines of it over time and shared it around. I found the same magic as with ketamine but found it harder to get past the extended duration and, again, long feelings of being cracked out.

On Saturday (today is Monday) I went to the FWD 10th birthday party, essentially by myself. I took a strong dose of 6-apb at home (it takes a couple of hours to get up), then did a small line of methoxy (ketamine with more mere methoxy?!) and off into the world I sprung/slithered. Confused by the venue location I wandered aimlessly around it, befriended a couple of strange homosexuals from Yorkshire and nearly didn't make it in. On walking away with them, I finally found entrance...ha-ha!

By this stage I was so shitfaced that they barely let me in. I was told to walk up the stairs without touching the handrail which I managed (barely). But I got there. The gig was something else. Raw, surging energy like nothing I've experienced before. A giant warehouse, ambient lighting only. The feeling of the DJ's channelling this raw primal energy into what they were playing. The pressure of bass on the chest unassailable. Like nothing I'd experienced in NZ. I was taken until 4am.

Yet my experience didn't end there. While I calmed down and sleeping pilled myself out, I awoke to massively dilated pupils and ongoing feelings of oneness centred around my chest chakra but vibrating up into my head. As soon as I awoke I knew what I was going to do. I had a banana and some toast then opened up the Methoxy. It was about 12 in the afternoon. For some reason I racked up a huge line. It was recklessly huge. I mean I've put some ridiculous lines of shit up my nose. I'm fairly renowned for it, but this was something else. Combined with the fact that it was an experimental substance that I hadn't tried much before it was downright stupid. I estimate I probably ingested 150-200mg of 6-apb from the night before (I'm good at eyeing things using empty capsules after a lot of experience) and I was still DEFINITELY suffering residual psychedelic effects from that, but this line. Wow. I'd say it was close to 400 mg. Certainly over 300. Reckless idiocy, but I can be like that sometimes.

I turned on a Fact mix set, loaded up a BBC special on gorillas and sat back for the ride, but straight away I knew it was going to be serious. The usual feelings running up and down the body, the tactile sensation of my body warping and sinking into the bed, was matched by a VERY noticeable change in vibration. I can normally feel my brain changing after ketamine -- new areas become active and blood flow different. I'm convinced I get some degree of psychic powers, and I know that I see more than one level of reality at times, but I'm always like a hacker. Powerless. A child buffeted in the winds of these worlds. This time was different though.

The vibrations were escalating drastically and I even had time to get a bit freaked out, which hasn't really happened in a long time. I think what I didn't realise is that methoxetamine is more of a true psychedelic. While it does relax the chest to somewhat alleviate body load, it dangerously raises the pulse on a dose like this and I felt like my whole body was morphing out of this dimension.

I began to get flashes...high speed flashes. There was the astral world seen through different eyes - that I'm familiar with (though I still can't even move around there). Shadowy, dark. Like a dream outline of this world but slightly different. There's rarely anybody or anything here. But other worlds flashed in too. New worlds. Unfamiliar. I didn't have anybody or anything with me to guide, and they were flashing through so lucidly. Opening or closing my eyes would only change to a different world or briefly bring up reality before I went on to the next. It's normally a journey, not disconnected and chaotic like this.

The oneness came on as strongly as I had ever felt it. I could feel all my friends. Everybody in the flat. I could touch their souls. I know they aren't aware of it, but our souls are all connected to the same energy, and those same souls, that drive our being without us knowing it, are aware of the truth behind all reality. They knew everything about me, because they are me in a sense, it just makes me feel so damn close to everybody I know and love. I often lose sense of who I am in these places but it stayed together this time. The flashes were thick and fast....a reddish world with fire and explosive beings of energy, then back to another where everything was built like the matrix.

There were beings of green 'character comprised' energy there, but I got the sensation of having pissed them off. I really, really shouldn't be there, with my thick ego, and my undeveloped, unconscious being. I suspect it might even be damaging for their reality. Two of them came towards me, and I think they did something. My order has become muddled at this point, but I think one of them was now guiding me. Teaching me why I need to stop hacking into these places. Showing me the profound ugliness of my ego, and what a fool I've been, in everything.

I visited, or they took me, to the source of all energy. Great flowing currents. Unimaginable power, coursing through everything. I could feel the world's religions and the ordering of consciousness via them. Their unique energies entities unto themselves, but communally created. I could feel the different cultures, the different animals, and feel the diversity they bring and the colour they add to the whole of the pattern. Other senses are so easy to comprehend in this state. These really cant be described and I don't know what half of them are, but there's weird creative vision related ones, some that stem from glands in the cheeks and around the mouth that sort of work by taste or strange bubbling noises, there's some on the surface of the skin that just sort of feel stuff in different ways. All of this could be felt, tasted, seen, smelt, lived simultaneously. Yet still it zoomed back further.

I'm getting strange visions begin to take hold as I write this, even now the day after. I zoomed back and could sense creation speaking to me, not me personally, but as a part of the whole asking what it should do...why it should hold everything together. What purpose there was to being instead of non-being.

This is one of those moments that psychonauts strive for. I've had it before, but never lucid and remembered like this. Meaning of life shit. Ultimate reality shit. The kind of shit that changes you forever. That fleeting moment experienced in the nos dream. That ultimate reality touched on but never retained. This was it, and I was there.

I felt the weight of consideration...the communal council of every piece of acquired knowledge that has ever been, and ever will be. Is this it, do we end it all now? Does creation have any further purpose to serve? Have we debased that which we love and are?

I could see our universe, and all universes. I could feel all dimensions. All being. All life. I could make out my friends and the people I knew in that giant puddle of life, through the being and the matter and that 'is'ness. I was that puddle. I am that puddle.

Then as it zoomed back and things drew to a crescendo. Civilizations sweeping finale, I realised that it was all left with me. The question had not been rhetorical. Yes, you, you *insert my name here* it intoned. It is down to you. What are we to do next? 'I always knew I was special' I thought to myself. 'I always knew it would be me, the chosen one in the end'. I was proud. Proud to be the one, and all my friends could see me there, the decider. What arrogance. Sickening.

'I don't know' I replied, an arrogant, ecstatic smole in whatever form I was in now dripping off my being. Joy leaking from every pore...pure ecstasy. Inhuman ecstasy. We shouldn't be able to feel this. It's too much. This is why it gets erased so quickly afterwards. Its a neuro protective mechanism I think, but also our souls somehow work to clean up the mess because, for some reason, understanding this oneness seems to avert the purpose of life when you've just hacked into it. How do I know this? I just do, I always have, it's happened many times before to me, and after so many, there's an imprint of familiarity. You probably even know what I'm talking about when I say it, because you've probably touched on it yourself. The truth has a resonance to it that cannot be escaped.

It was all too much. Too strong. Maddening. I was ill-equipped. I retreated, yet I brushed something on the way out. Reality moved. A shockwave rippled through. Everything changed. Re-ordered. re-aligned. This was it. Judgement day. Not judgement day, but the great awakening. Reality had now been laid bare for all humanity. Exposed for the shadow on the wall that it really is.

The funny thing is, this isn't the first time I've had this vision, just in a slightly different form. Should I not have heeded the warning to stay away all those years ago? This was different though. Lucid and clear. And I've learnt to remember, everything. Sometimes not the order or the details, but I remember. I think I might be a little bit mad. Certainly borderline. I know religious kookery runs strong in my blood line, but this was something else.

I awoke lucid. Looking down at my hands, realising they had changed. They were no longer my old hands. I'd been replaced by a slightly different form. A new body. It was me, but in the great re-ordering, the ripple through reality had made things slightly different. I was still flashing through different dimensions but could feel our usual reality strongly at all times now. My brain and body were going so nuts it was unmanageable. The vibrations and buzzing was so loud and so tactile. Like nothing I've experienced before. I looked outside and saw all the cars had been turned into shiny amazing cars. Prestige cars. Now that nobody cares. I could see the hilarious irony in it. But I wondered still if anybody would be foolish enough to bother stealing them. I could feel the disorder beginning on the streets.

This was it. It was time for the world to ascend back to its natural state. How blissful. I love thoughts of the apocalypse. Everybody passing across at the same time. Why fear death when the world is coming with you? Reunification. What could we possibly be afraid of? I lay on my bed in bliss, enjoying the sanctity of the moment. Communing with the world. Communicating with my flatmates telepathically. Unfortunately, the sedative effects of the ketamine weren't there and I was able to move around easily. I knew I looked terrifying. I thought I'd already explained telepathically that I was tripping and they understood. I knew my flatmate upstairs had been changed too. His clothes were all pimped out and buzzy looking. This was just further evidence towards the impending change of state. He looked concerned and weirded out, oblivious to what I'd been doing and not quite realising that I was asking him 'what he was doing' in such an abstract way because I was expecting most of London to be heading to some kind of central square to ascend together and I thought he might know where we were going.

Should I call my mother? My girl in California? I didn't know what to do but, thankfully, settled on none of it. I trawled facebook trying to post an ironic video of 'Never Be The Same' from Mel B with END OF UNIVERSE IRONIC CLIP as the punchline but was unable to gather the motor skills. My computer had been completely changed too. It was the same, but different. Same desktop but a whole new design, different charger, different model. Older and shittier looking actually. I rued my bad luck but was happy it still seemed to work. At one stage it started playing music by itself. I don't really know how it happened. I gave thanks loudly to whoever's spirit had hacked in and started it. I think I might have really just started hearing it again, which meant this was probably less than an hour since ingestion still, unless I'd somehow started it again.

I'd second guess myself at times, knowing that I'd taken drugs but dismissing this as mere bad timing for the end. I wished so hard I could become lucid for these end of times but the fuzzy, distorted, hallucinogenic vision persisted with constant dimensional flashes encroaching in my vision. Nothing high level now, just astral or something related, but still constant. I could still feel everybody as well. I decided to commune that way instead of physically, and things went from mad to madder.

Every time I tried to mentally tell myself that I may have the wrong end of the stick I'd look outside, and feel the madness boiling over. I'd look at my completely different laptop, and my oddly distorted hands. It was interesting looking at my new body. I checked the mirror and saw my face was similar, but I noticed my arms were more muscular and bigger than I was used to. I was actually quite pleased with this and thought it was pretty cool. I tried to go for a walk to sort out what was going on but I wandered aimlessly for little more than a couple of blocks before getting lost and confused and shuffling back to the house. I remember the bathroom door being locked serving as further evidence of reality shifting. There wasn't supposed to be a door there anyway. The voice calling from behind it had to be some kind of mystical entity. Maybe somebody trapped there. Bizarre logic, but inescapable.

As I stayed in my room, the vibrations, and flashes and sense of apocalypse stayed, but didn't strengthen. I began to get curious about when it was going to happen, so after again talking to my flatmate to check that they were handling the apocalypse ok (Good god, I've only just moved in here...how embarrassing this is), I set off for a very good friend's house. It was at this time that I realised it may, in fact, not be the great ascension, and that I maybe needed talking down instead. I rang him and confessed, helpless, but he at least had forewarning and would have heard the desperation. I wandered aimlessly again, sometimes in sheer panic at how lost I was becoming for somewhere that was supposed to be 5 minutes away. Running at times. Sprinting like a retarded little hobbit. Shit faced but scared enough to move quickly in spite of the fact.

Eventually I made it. I was calm, and lucid, but still crazed. Feral. I couldn't separate reality. My brain was still buzzing so hard it was draining, and thoughts slipped away from me like water through sand, replaced instead by visions of other dimensions, crazed cartoonish images, and flashes of insight.

My friend clarified with me that, I was indeed just tripping, that nothing was happening, and that I should just relax and eat. It was now past 8pm. I was genuinely scared that I may have gone mad at last. I always feel like it's just around the bend when I'm on psychs. I'd sworn off them long ago. This was an accident, but I may have well and truly done it this time.

He fetched me food and water and we watched South Park. I wasn't paying attention to it at all, but marvelled at the production quality. I answered his questions where I could but I was disjointed and only interested in reliving the experience. Of my blunder in at the source due to the disgusting arrogance of my ego. Of communing with all and understanding all at once. Of being comprised of pure joy and love. Of pure madness. Devastating, lasting psychosis that couldn't be controlled. What a state.

After eating I vomited that kind of vomit I can only ever do after tripping. The deep, primal emptying of everything in my stomach and your soul. That was truly my turning point. I was back.

While I still tried to convince my friend that my laptop had changed (or in my new, more feasible explanation, that somebody had stolen it, and replaced it with an inferior model but loaded all my desktop icons onto it) but I understood now how ridiculous what I was saying was. I was still off the planet high but I could tell I was starting to annoy my mate, so I picked myself up, dusted myself off, and made for the home front.

That evening I thought of the fact I had work the next day, but mostly felt overwhelming love for all creation. For my sanity, for life. I felt love towards my girl in California. More than ever, I knew she was the one for me, that she's a part of me, and that I can't manage forever here without her, even though I've been so strong and motivated in life of late. As I was going to sleep after taking another Zopiclone, I felt a sharp, unusual buzzing on my lips that grew stronger. Joy began to radiate from my mouth....every breath was life, escaping in pulses, inflating me. I wondered what it was and, completely free of fear, I concentrated on it. I began to feel a creature across dimensions. It felt familiar. I've experienced it before, but I don't know when. My mouth became slightly numb and this sensation worked further up. I could feel my pulse going so fast that it was like I was in a different state. Literally 5 times a second. Not human. Changed by the communion. I was conscious of wings flapping fast, and this was the buzzing sound. It sounds ridiculous, but the only thing I could think it was when I try to picture it, was some kind of fairy. What kind of ridiculous hippy have I become?

Perhaps it was the matrix creature come to ensure I was ok and to restore my balance after showing me something so heavy. I'm sure our subjective state affects how we visually interpret different layers of realities, and thus everybody sees and experiences things differently. I don't know. I never will know. All I know is what I felt, and the unbridled love flowing from the creature into my soul and out my mouth went on till I fell asleep then snapped awake in the morning.

I woke up suddenly, gripped with emotion and understanding. I cried a lot, but not tears of grief. Never sadness. Always of happiness. I messaged my girl and told her how I felt. Sad that I'd never given her any real assurances about how much I cared. I know she feels the same way, because I can feel it and she messaged me back pretty quickly. It felt so good to read.

My weird psychic powers have faded now later in the day, but the glow remains. I made up a vague excuse for work but will be back in again tomorrow I guess. It's now 6.50 at night and I'm still high.

After experiences like this, the glow always fades. It sometimes takes days, sometimes weeks, but I know this will fade too, leaving behind a nugget of knowledge. An imprint. A change to my wisdom that normally only age can bring. The kind of wisdom that you know your parents have and understand, but which they can never impart to you. Tears are streaming down my face again as I'm writing this. I'm just so thankful to creation, to my friends, and to my life for letting me experience such beauty. For having such a gifted and privileged life, where I'm free to do anything my energy turns to.

I don't know where I can go from here, but I certainly won't be doing psychedelics like this ever again, and I'll probably go really easy on the drugs for some time. I doubt I'll ever stop entirely though. They seem to be a part of me. My sacrament. One that centres my life, grounds me and naturally prioritises what's important. Not sex, or acquisition, or status. It puts a smile on my face just thinking about questing for such shallow, empty vices these days. What is the purpose of life then? I don't know. Love? It seems a bit simple. But I do know that life is really just an adventure, one that we're all in together...And we should stop taking things so seriously and enjoy the ride while we can.

Exp Year: 2011	ExpID: 92554
Gender: Male
Age at time of experience: 28
Published: Aug 27, 2011	Views: 23,002
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