Greetings all,
Nearly a year ago, I had a mushroom trip which really showed me some new things, and reaffirmed my belief in taking them. Since then, I've taken mushrooms three more times. Two times of which did not work for me. I consumed an eight on an empty stomach each time, but for some reason I barely left baseline. The third time occurred last night, with a friend I've known for over ten years. We were comfortable with each other and had enough psychedelic experience between the two of us to make it through. Our experience together last night really tested our mettle, both as individuals and as friends.
I had come into possession of eight grams of mushrooms, introduced to me as "blue caps". They said they were stronger, and it might have been an understatement. I took them home and ate a little bit, between one to two grams. They seemed pretty potent, and was eager to have a more vivid experience compared to the last two times. That night I told my friend we could split what was left, expecting about an eighth for each of us. We weighed it, and found they gave me a bit extra; 8.4 grams split between the two of us. We ate them at roughly 3:30 pm, and sat on my couch listening to Ozric Tentacles. It seemed to take a bit longer for them to take effect, and there was an ominous stillness there. There was a hint of paranoia as the effects really began, and I know now that was the spark. We laughed at our Gonzoish demeanor, as we stumbled around my apartment peeking through blinds. What we didn't realize was that we were creating patterns which would turn into total mental disorders. My friend was pacing up and down my tiny, rickety upstairs apartment. He laughed about the weird angle of the floor and seemed to enjoy it, at first. I was focusing on regulating my body temperature. I constantly put on or pulled of layers of random clothing, and got up compulsively to fiddle with the thermostat. In time it became impossible to even think we were having fun, in fact it was turning to utter agony.
The patterns of behavior were digging ruts in our psyche. It felt like a feedback loop, exponentially escalating. We couldn't stop these loops, and it was utterly painful in a way I can't describe. My friend's constant pacing was now totally mental. He would walk up and down for 20 minutes, and then sit down in the adjacent chair, only to get back up. I would change my clothing and the thermostat, as well as get up to check the blinds. For both of us, the paranoia was now excruciating. I turned the music on and off quite a bit, it became a way to cope. It was in no way enjoyable, but it shut out the cacophony of voices and alien sounds for a time. Then the music would take over the experience, It swallowed you up and spit you out in constant waves of snarly machine noises and terrible shapes and colors. But cycling between music and "silence" helped pass the time, which was passing incredibly slowly. My friend was very silent. Sometimes he would burst out, exasperated, "well, I guess I'm a god", or "man, all I want is a fucking cigarette". I was constantly updating him on the time, and how much longer we might have had. I also asked him how he was doing a lot, if only to get an answer that could have given me hope. But I think we were both hopeless at that point. That might have been the lowest I've ever felt in my life.
I wanted to kill myself. The loops in my head were so mentally painful, I just wanted to end it. I thought about my family and friends, and of course realized that would not happen. We had turned off our phones in the beginning, but I felt it might have been a good time to turn mine on. Later, however, I caught myself in the middle of texting "where are the blue dogs" to my Dad, and a suicide note to my Mom. Thankfully I was with it just enough to confirm these were not good things to text to one's parents, and stopped myself. The paranoia reached every part of my life, Everything that is terrible seemed probable if not certain. I realized an empathy for those with mental disorders, as I was experiencing it first hand. I remembered I had an acid trip like this once, and it began to dawn on me. I remembered the same feelings I felt then, and I remembered it stopped after they knocked me out at the hospital (terrible experience, that one). I told my friend that I thought it might stop after we passed out. He thought he was a god. I, oddly enough, knew my name, where I was, who my friend was, and that I ate mushrooms. Yet there was something terribly wrong with me and I couldn't even tell what it was. So I texted my downstairs neighbor (with incredible difficulty) and asked if everything was alright. She has a baby, and it was screaming most of the trip (I know, awesome right?...) Hence, it was a HUGE part of our paranoid delusions. She said everything was ok, and it made me feel much better. I wanted to sleep to try and end it, but I was afraid my friend might kill himself. I wanted to contact someone to come over, but my paranoia told me otherwise. So I figured I would just wait until morning, and if I was still crazy I would have to tell someone.
Then it really dawned on me. This was maybe four or five hours in and perhaps our lowest point. All the while I was getting these maze and puzzle visions. I realized my mind had become a puzzle of some sort, and I realized that puzzles are made to be solved. I saw a light at the end of the tunnel, for the first time. I knew it could be ended. I explained to my friend very carefully that I thought he should go try and sleep and I would wait it out. For the first time, he seemed to come back a bit. I asked him if he understood what I told him, and he almost enthusiastically said yes. I helped him in my bed and he remained there for some time. I found myself in front of the bathroom mirror, staring into my own eyes. I remained there for some time, and I don't know what went through my head. But I emerged totally cured of the crazies. I have never felt so alive. I felt utterly reborn and elated, like I solved the puzzle the mushrooms gave me. It seemed as though I proved myself in some way, or showed the universe I'm worth keeping. I told my friend that I made it out, and I encouraged him that he could do it too. Within half an hour we were having the most incredible comedown of our lives.
I'm tempted to say this made me never want to touch a psychedelic again, except for one thing: Every time I let myself drift off in my own head, there were always people or beings there. They reached out and seemed to call to me. I recoiled and snapped back immediately, so its hard to even tell what I experienced there. But it felt very compelling, like I resisted it the whole time and really just had to give in. Other than that, it mostly just affected my thought processes. There was one moment where I went to some kind of Lego town. The music changed and everything became very toy-like. It seemed really fun, but I couldn't stay there. All in all it was definitely worth it. I feel like so much knowledge and experience was passed to me, and my respect has only grown for these plants.
Thanks for reading! Sorry its long and a little jumbled, but I just wanted to get as much of it out as I could while its fresh.