Citation: Danny. "The Gift of Life: experience with DXM & Mushrooms (ID 66032)". Erowid.org. Jul 22, 2008. erowid.org/exp/66032
On a depressing spring night I consumed a powerful dose of both psilocybin (mushrooms) and dextromethorphen (DXM). I found myself eagerly awaiting the trip that would follow. About 30 minutes after my dosing, the common effects of both drugs began to take their course. This was a new combination to me, though as many times before I felt it to be under my control. The psilocybin brought on the usual change of perspective, causing my mind to race with unfathomable thoughts. Halos of various colors surrounded the lighting in the room. My vision became distorted, transforming my surroundings into a world of constant motion. This wasnít new for me. As my mind attempted to adjust, the DXM was taking effect, my awareness seemed to diminish. I acknowledged the state I was in, for the world became a dream before my eyes. With each passing moment I felt my ego slip away.
Understanding of time was clouded, an eternity would pass by, yet when I checked the clock only minutes had passed. Motor skills slowed, reducing the ability to comprehend that which is complex. As the visuals continued, I felt a deep, rising emotional pain. Upon recognizing this, my soul was filled with fear. Though the world around me was truly sublime, a sick hatred took hold of my heart.
As the seconds passed, I could feel the ability to distinguish happiness and despair being swept away. My heart raced quicker and quicker. I rose to my feet, attempting to grasp any strand of sanity that still dwelt in my mind. My body sensations were overpoweringly euphoric, contradicting the battle that was raging within my own mind. Strangely enough I found myself laughing at the situation. I had endured bad trips before but this was unlike any other.
As I continued to wrestle with the ability to think logically, something strange occurred, I felt extremely hungry. Struggling to maintain coordination I made my way upstairs towards the kitchen. The journey was difficult but I reached my destination. The first object to pierce my vision was a box of many colors. On it was a strange bird I recognized as Toucan Sam. Reaching for this I stumbled but managed to stay a foot. The deep feeling of emotional pain increased, surging through my veins. It was coming.
I grabbed what I needed to complete my meal, which included milk, a bowl, a spoon, and the box with many colors. I could feel the drugs reaching their peak. Somehow, someway, I made it back to my original setting. Exactly how I did this is a blur in my memory. The next thing I remember I was eating, but I could taste nothing. By this point my visuals were flooded with strange, geometric shapes that would constantly change. I began to notice that I could not monitor my sensations and thoughts anymore, and that random emotions could spring forth at any given moment.
I started hearing noises of both high and low-pitched extremities. Knowing that the pain I was feeling was inevitable, I became extremely frustrated. Thoughts and visions of painful memories came into view. I knew somewhere deep within me lay hatred and anger, particularly towards my loved ones. Why these feelings arose or where they came from is still unknown to me. I could feel my sanity slipping more and more as the resentments boiled towards anger. I hated them for all that they had done to me, for all the times they had called the police on me, for all the times they yelled at me, for all the times I was belligerent and tried to take on my dad with no success.
At this point the DXM seemed to be in full effect, disabling any chance I had to gain control. Body and mind no longer worked in harmony. I was on autopilot and there was nothing I could do to prevent it. With one final act of expression, one final act of emotion, anger gave way to a flash of light. Waves of colors danced in my vision unpredictably as I rushed towards the stairs. As I moved, no feeling penetrated my legs, giving me the impression that I was nothing but a ghost. After what seemed an eternity, my flight led me to a new environment I now recognize as being my upstairs. Terror filled my mind, leading me into a bizarre frenzy of ripping my clothes. I tore at my skin as I entered a dark hallway that led to my parentís room. Bursting forth through their door I screamed and yelled but no sound filled my ears. Upon entering their room my memory is a blur. Sometime after this I made my way towards my room, though I do not remember doing so. In an act of hatred, I began tearing at my wall, ripping posters off and devouring them like a wild beast. The only intention I had this point was making them hurt for all they had done to me. Behind me, two figures emerged with a look of true fear that even I could recognize past the radical visuals my mind was experiencing. As they approached me, my memory fades to black.
Everything seemed to go quiet. Whispers would come and go. Voices were faded but recognizable. After an eternity streams of light filled my vision. Beautiful colors exploded in an array that cannot be adequately put into words. I couldnít recognize where I was but it did not bother me. I could feel that I was moving but my body remained perfectly still. Objects in the distance grew larger. As the moments passed, my anger receded into a feeling of warmth and content. My body felt like an ocean, with waves of pleasure pulsating through every nerve. Where am I? I did not know. Is this heaven? I donít know. As questions filled my mind the objects in the distance now moved past me, revealing more of them ahead. As eons passed, the streams of light began to seize. Reality seemed to slow as the tracers in my view returned to their original source. It wasnít until now that I realized I had been traveling. The sound of an idling automobile came to an unnatural stop. Above, white and red colors blended to create a candy cane-like appearance. Though severely intoxicated, I could still recognize the words that shined above. I was at the hospital. Next to me a path emerged as the car door opened. The same figures that I saw earlier stood in my view. My Dad pulled me out of the car and into a world of darkness.
The next thing I remember I was moving down a white hallway. My surroundings were unfamiliar to me. My heart began to race. I couldnít seem to grasp an understanding of what was happening. The hospital was a frightening setting for the situation I had put myself in. My visuals were intense but not nearly as out of control as they were earlier, instead of being spread out and random, they were precise and very real. Knowing that my visuals had changed, I presumed the effect was wearing off. This was a mistake.
As I made my way into a white room, I felt a sudden loss of control. I could feel my ability to keep a linear flow of thought impossible. It felt like hours had passed, even days. In that moment of thought I looked around my environment for a source of time. As I reached my goal fear sunk deep into my mind. It was 1:05 A.M. This meant that I had only taken the drugs an hour ago. This also meant that they had not yet reached their peak as I had assumed earlier. I felt my stomach turn. I continued to look around the room searching for something, anything, to help me. As my eyes met my mothers, something died deep within me. What have I done?
As the minutes passed I could feel myself becoming more and more intoxicated. The intensity of my visuals returned like a sick memory. I could feel my heart pace faster and faster. For the first time in my life, I knew without a doubt that I would die. I closed my eyes. Will I be forgiven? Through the doorway came a monster in blue. What happened next is difficult to remember but images flash in and out of my memory: I was drinking a sick chalky liquid that was as dark as midnight, a man in white asking me questions I could not answer, the sound of my fatherís voice in the background. What happened next I will attempt to describe to the best of my knowledge.
I lay in a state of disassociation and incomprehension. Somewhere in a fading background came a sound of repetitive beating. It grew louder and louder until it lived within me. I recognized it as a heart monitor recording someoneís pulse. It was abnormally quick. At that moment I realized that it was my own heart beat. Somewhere between consciousness and insanity I became truly afraid. Suddenly I could feel my own heart beating in sync with the sound that filled my ears. I looked down and saw my chest thumping hard. My view moved down to my arms and legs. I could see the skin between my wrists and my palms thumping hard. At the moment I made the realization that I had 3 hearts in my body, each one pumping in a sickening rhythm. Life seemed to lose its value as I saw my skin literally change to a deep shade of purple. My stomach churned in tune with the agony that I was living. The room around me would grew exceedingly bright and then in an instant transform into a dim nightmare. It was so wrong.
After exhausting every attempt to devoid myself of this pain, I bowed hopelessly towards my Maker. For the next few hours I spent my time praying to God. Throughout this time the heart monitor would constantly shift, the harder I prayed the quicker my pulse went. If I seized to pray I would feel my pulse slow. This all happened in a manner too frightening to put into words. I canít explain it. It was a constant battle for my soul. There would be moments of the most unreasonable thoughts entering my mind.
As I lay there I would stare at the various objects around the room. I saw cameras and I believed that because of my desperate, vocal prayers, that everyone around the world was watching me battle for my life through the power of prayer. The drama was constant and the pressure exceeded anything I had ever experienced. All eyes were on me. The only way I can attempt to describe it is in an emergency room setting with doctors desperately trying to save a life, the drama where life and death enter my heart in a surge of pure emotion. I saw myself on the front page of every newspaper in the country titled ďThe Boy Who Battled for His Soul, Conscious the Entire Time.Ē It was truly a strange experience. I felt a nobleness flow through me but the constant anxiety for my life is something that I will never forget.
As time passed, my heart rate grew slower. The slow ticking was like an endless nightmare. After all the praying, after all the dedication I had put forth into escaping this agony, I failed. My heart stopped sometime around 4 in the morning, and permanently placed my mind into a state that I still battle to this day. What was happening defied and rejected all spiritual and religious principles that I believed. When someone dies, their spirit leaves their body. They enter into a new world of radical possibilities. So why, I asked myself, did I still remain in my body? As I deeply pondered this I felt my body rotting away. Powerful fumes filled my nostrils, a smell I can never forget. My parents returned into the room and began telling me how upset they were that I had died. They spoke of a stink that filled the air. I presumed this to be the stink of death.
The walls of reason fell before my eyes as my view picked up a body bag outside the door. Why was I still in my body? As logic and understanding were swallowed forever, my heart ached with regret. I sat unknowing of what would become of me. My vision would grow dark, leaving me with a hope that I was leaving my body. When nothing happened, I prayed again. Every few minutes I would feel a hint of life enter my body. It was only temporary, coming and going in a manner of sick trickery. It was a brutal game of hope and despair. I felt like a dog with someone waving a piece of meat in front of my face. Each time I went for it, the meat was pulled back. The difference in the situation I was experiencing was that I was the dog and the meat was life. This went on for some while until a strange phenomenon occurred.
During my prayer I felt my stomach twist in pain, more than ever before. The pain grew to such an extremity that I felt that my stomach my burst open. In that moment of deep tension, something happened that has traumatized me to this day. A strange new sensation shot through my stomach. In a fashion of indescribable anguish, I felt every organ in my bosom drop down to the bottom of my stomach. My eyes filled with tears I realized what had happened. I wanted to leave my body, I wanted this torture to end. At this moment the very essence of my entity wasnít worth it.
The room was filled with a disturbing quietness, the kind of silence after a team of doctors desperately try to revive a dying patient, but to no avail. I no longer existed. I no longer held the gift known as life. I was a walking corpse who had been left to rot, even after the process of death. As my parents began to ask me questions, I laid there miserably. My memory turns into a blur at this moment but returns shortly after. I remember repeatedly asking my parents if they would forgive me for dying, or if I was really dead. The only answer I got was if Iíd like to be dead after what I put them through. This answer brought on more silence. The once intense visuals that flooded my vision were now mild waves of distortion. The connection between mind and body returned to me.
As time and sanity and sobriety rushed through my mind, I grew extremely confused. I turned to my parents to see the pain in their eyes. After seeing this, something clicked within me. In all honesty and desperation I begged my parents to tell me if I really had died. It was quiet for a moment. The desperation in my voice must have reached my parents minds. My mother spoke. I was not dead.
At that moment I felt the life returning inside me. My vision seemed to clear. The colors of life shone brightly as the first rays of the morning sun shone through the windows outside of my room. This was the first time I truly understood the value of life. Still mildly intoxicated, I apologized innumerable times to my parents.
As I lay there in gratitude and shame, everything seemed to make sense. I was emotionally overwhelmed. The bizarre experiences I had believed to happen that night never really happened at all. The truth was I had overdosed and my parents had driven me to the emergency room due to my behavior the night before. According to my parents I was up all night, mumbling words they couldnít understand. The illusions that these drugs brought on is something that has scared my soul. The entire night my heart was beating slightly faster than normal but it never seized to beat as I thought. My skin had never turned purple. There were no cameras, no newspapers, nothing. I was alive and I had been the entire night. God had never left me. He was there, the entire time.
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