Citation: Pazuzu. "Lost in a Dream: An Experience with LSD & DXM (ID 26185)". Erowid.org. Jun 25, 2007. erowid.org/exp/26185
[Erowid Note: Driving while intoxicated or tripping is dangerous and irresponsible because it endangers other people. Don't do it!]
||(blotter / tab)
Iíve decided to write about my own experience with DXM and LSD, because I consider that combination to be the most profound, inebriating, and transcendent of all psychedelic concoctions. The events took place in 1996, and the date of this report is 2003, so my memories are a bit fuzzy; however, the startling impact of this trip has allowed me to recall more details than average for a six-year old drug memory.
My trip began one Friday after high school. I was a senior and just starting to experiment with DXM, and I had slowly worked my way into second tier territory until I felt confident with stronger doses. A friend of mine was also trying various doses of DXM, and we had cut school to drink Drixoral (which at the time contained only DXM). When school was over her mother picked her up and I went home, and at that time I was buzzing hard.
At home I put on some tunes and lay down, and not two minutes had passed before a knock came from my window. It came from G, my friend who had recently gone the GED route (or intended to, at least!), and he had a few hits of acid. He suggested we get the hell out of suburbia for a few hours, eat these hits of fry, and talk serious politics. I realized the wisdom of this immediately, and agreed, so we left. We stopped along the way and each dosed; the acid came on small squares of two toned blotter, white on one side and purple on the other. In a moment of pure inspiration, it had been named Purple Blotter. Unlike the acid I had done before, this stuff had a palpable metallic taste that diffused across my tongue as soon as the paper hit saliva. A cigarette diminished this, and the ride began.
The car drive took about twenty minutes, and we left Contra Costa County for the wild, lawless state known as Canyon. We were hoping it was lawless, anyway. One needs a whole lot of space when tripping, that is, space between cops. As we passed a cow pasture I realized the acid had hit; the cows were looking distorted, since patterns were forming in the subtle variations of the color on their hides. G was feeling it too, though probably not quite like me. The DXM was certainly picking up speed. We drove through twisted mountain road with shoulders of eroded cliff and the thick foliage of redwood forests. A parking lot was maintained deep within canyon, and we parked there to hike around. The acid must have countered the heavy buzz of the DXM, because I could walk fine and actually felt energetic.
As we walked I studied the trail; it seemed my vision was trying to fragment into the diffracted lens eye one might compare to a fly. This was exciting, which added to my energy level. I just wanted to explore this wilderness; it had become a playground. I took my shoes off and had trouble walking through mud, and encountered a horse with a rider who couldnít stop it from turning in circles. Animals must instinctively known when humans are on a trip, because they act so fucking different then. Itís their time to act, those brilliant bastards. We spoke some words to the lady rider, who laughed and rode off in a dizzying orbit. I realized my pants were coated in mud and my shoes were some one hundred feet away, on a hill, and my behavior was anything but normal. Still, this didnít bother me like it did G, who insisted we get off the trail. We crept under a barbed wire fence, and by using rude force, blazed a trail through tightly nit chaparral and fern. It seemed like hours, but under drug frenzy we made it through to the other side, to a field of purple plants.
The significance of the color purple did not escape me. Plants that normally looked brown looked purple, not just to me but to my friend. We had to resist our urge to investigate, because G was having a serious attack of the paranoids. I was mostly oblivious to the possibility of threat, but I felt it was best to take heed of Gís caution, so we hid out in the overgrowth until the danger passed. When we moved, we stuck to trees, darting from one to the next, because G insisted those airplanes in the sky were on the look out for suspicious behavior. Although his nervousness was largely unfounded, I would soon give him something to be nervous about.
I must have been lucky to time the peaks of both my drug trips simultaneously. DXM tends to wait a bit before hitting fully, and so does acid, but like underwear every dose has itís own personality. This dose was a Type A personality, and it bum rushed us with an early onset peak. So both of my peaks lit up at once, and I was gone. We had found a nice, isolated tree that the planes couldnít see through, and I lay staring up at the tree branches. All of a sudden, weird topographic lines appeared on the canopy above. It was like someone had turned the tree into an elevation map. Then, the parts of the canopy between elevation lines rotated, as if printed on paper, and behind was complete blackness. The world disappeared completely, and my mind recoiled to DXM space.
When I am really tripping hard on DXM, my mindís eye seems much larger than normal. A comparison could be that normally my mind can visualize thoughts on a thirty-two inch screen. On DXM itís fucking Imax. That day, while on DXM and LSD, my mindís eye was a series of Imax screens, each with itís own unique, autonomous hallucination. Amid these screens was my visual input, because during all this my eyes stayed open, but I felt as if I was hovering above my body, and my vision was very far off. I saw myself doing strange things; jumping around like a monkey, smashing stuff with a rudimentary club, wandering aimlessly through the park, all which featured the somewhat bewildered reactions of G. I remember saying, ďI am a dreamer searching for myself. I am higher than Iíve ever been in my life.Ē Gravity had no meaning, I could fly in my mind and my body had long since stopped signaling my nervous system. Somehow I had full mobility, somewhat of a rarity on heavy DXM trips, although just because I could move doesnít mean I could control myself.
My actions were instinctual, played out by some part of my mind that was separate from my drug consciousness. It was as if I was experiencing multiple simultaneous dimensions as an observer. This peak was amazing, but my mind wandered into territory so alien and so breathtaking that I forgot it as soon as it happened, forgetting as soon as the next hallucination started.
When I settled down we were inside the car again, parked and smoking cigarettes. The tape ďPretty Hate MachineĒ by Nine Inch Nails was playing, and it was as if I heard a symphony of euphoria. I glanced down at the palm of my hands and noticed my mind playing tricks on me. The shadowed parts of my palm would wriggle about and form images, and the light parts would undulate and shade these moving images. Soon I could see full motion video in my palms, as if I had televisions for hands. My reaction was to gallop wildly around the car, laughing hysterically while staring into my hands. My friend appeared equally curious and pissed, and when I told him about my hands he said, ďI donít see shit in your hands. Get back in the car.Ē Although he was appointed babysitter on this trip, the acid was still strong in him. We decided to sit on a hill and smoke pot.
I stared off at a far off slope, where individual bushes had became grotesque green humanoids bearing jagged tools of war. They charged down the hill, rolling over each other and morphing into other creatures. I leaned back and stared at the sky instead. The sky bent inward, as if some giant finger had pressed down on the sky and bent it till it touched my eyeball. The trip continued strong for several hours, but unfortunately I remember few more details. The next day I was in trouble, because it turned out I was supposed to be at work that night, and my boss had called home. I was grounded, but my message to the world is: It was worth it. DXM and LSD are incredibly psychedelics taken individually, but when they cross path they are something entirely new. My rating of this trip: five out of five roaches.
Experience Reports are the writings and opinions of the individual authors who submit them.
Some of the activities described are dangerous and/or illegal and none are recommended by Erowid Center.