Citation: Mathew. "Sunshine Cactus Saturday: An Experience with Mushrooms (exp1316)". Erowid.org. Feb 12, 2001. erowid.org/exp/1316
Recently, I moved into my own apartment in a quiet neighbourhood with lots of trees. It was a sunny Saturday afternoon and I planned to do nothing but just enjoy the place after two weeks of unpacking and painting. Having tried shrooms twice previously, I enjoyed them immensely and found I had quite the affinity for them (or them for me). It seemed like a perfect time to finish off some remaining shrooms I had, as I'd heard that tripping could be particularly pleasant on a sunny days. It also seemed like a good time to try tripping on my own, and given the serene atmosphere I was only slightly uncomfortable with this. I'm not sure of the exact dose, but I estimate about 1 gram. I thought it would be a mild trip, so I was not to be disappointed. As you shall see, I will never look at houseplants in quite the same way again....
The effects came in an exciting rush after only about twenty minutes. Perhaps I'm unusual in that I actually enjoy the earthy taste of dried mushrooms. I could still taste them when the geometric patterns started to appear in the shady parts of the room. Sunlight was beaming through the living room window and patterns of light were bouncing onto the walls from various shiny objects in the room. These patterns resolved into the faces of Aztec gods. I was listening to the potent music of Dead Can Dance, the voices guiding the patterns into sensual dances. My grandfather's old clock, vaguely bird-shaped, seemed to want to fly off the wall, pinned down somehow by its swinging pendulum. Mesmerized by this, I melted into the sofa where I sat and relaxed into a state of bliss.
At some point I noticed that my head seemed to be lolling to the left without my conscious control. Perplexed, I found that I could not keep my head centered without effort. Eventually I let my head turn, and in doing so my eyes immediately came to rest on a large cactus I had placed on the coffee table beside the sofa. An amusing thought came to me that it was trying to get my attention, so I slid down to the end of the sofa - and out of the direct sun - to see what the cactus wanted. I felt like I had just noticed for the first time someone who'd always been there. I cooed to her a bit, then mentally asked what she wanted. Just then I noticed, almost to an exaggerated degree, how cold and dark it was at that spot. This seemed to me like an explicit request...the cactus wanted to be moved closer to the window and bask in the direct sun! Without hesitation I lugged her (all 50 pounds) into the light and sat down with my arms around the pot. For what seemed like hours I sat with her, fascinated by her thorns and sturdy limbs, carefully brushing off dust and even singing to her (which it seemed she also requested). I sensed that she was very ancient, and she reminded me that I too was ancient.
I was glad that I was alone, as the presence of others would have distracted me from hearing messages from my plants...now I can't wait to try shrooms this summer in the wilderness somewhere.
After, I spent another eternity sprawled out on the floor in the sun. The sun raining through my eyelids and the sound of birds outside made me feel like I was on the floor of an immense forest. Later, I became caught in front of the bathroom mirror by the absolute strangeness of my face. Luckily I had come down quite a bit by then, or I fear I might have spent the whole trip examining my face. While looking into my eyes, I understood why my face was arranged the way it is, in order to bring certain senses to the fore. I think I may also have contacted a dormant personality within me, one which seemed like he could have lived a few centuries ago, somewhere in Europe. He was extremely arrogant but charming, and I could see that some of his traits were expressed in me now, though to a milder degree. I can only speculate.
Past lives and communication with the plant world...these were more than I expected, but I was grateful for the experience. Each time I've tried mushrooms has been in a completely different environment. I'm amazed at the variety of experiences that can result. I feel like I could use them both for simple pleasure/recreation and for some serious personal exploration. I have gotten so much of them already after only three trips at relatively low doses, that I'm almost afraid to increase the dose and have an even more intense experience to absorb. I see immense potential. I could say 'where have these mushrooms been all my life?' but I know that only now am I ready for them.
I've concluded, even from my limited experience, that hallucinogenic substances do not 'do' anything to you, other than facilitate the opening of a gate to the wider world around us. It depends on each individual how far beyond the gate they will explore and how much they will bring back when the gate creeps shut again. I also think it's possible to wedge the gate open a little, in order to draw on an expanded perspective in our everyday lives.
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