Citation: Cogimp. "Babbling Some Shit about Souls and Truth: An Experience with Mushrooms & Cannabis (exp47007)". Erowid.org. Jan 3, 2008. erowid.org/exp/47007
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This was written on a Thursday evening. The original file was created on Friday, September 09, 2005 at 1:56:00 AM.
It was on this night that our little group decided to go shrooming for the first time. More precisely speaking, it was the first time for two of our number (myself and one other guy named Carl), and the second trip for the third person (Steve). A fourth friend, an older man who we all know and trust, stayed by to chaperone the experiment. We all finally got together around 11:15pm at Carl's apartment, after having spent the day trying to get our hands on the shrooms themselves. Each of the three of us ate one eighth-ounce of some species of moderate potency coated in a hard-candy layer. My eighth was a peanut butter egg. I washed my mouth out with three or four cups of water after eating it. I felt as if I were trying to wash some mortal sin off my teeth and tongue.
For a long time nothing happened. Maybe an hour passed. Then my two friends began succumbing to the poison sequentially. First Steve, who'd done them before, began to comment that various objects were tripping him out. At this point, I was merely curious as per what he meant, and what he was seeing. But I could get no cogent information out of him. Next, Carl, who I know more closely, began to feel something. He said that he felt a body high welling up in low waves. Suddenly, as he was describing the effects, he reeled back against the couch and began giggling helplessly, and pawing at the air. I was disappointed, because I still felt nothing, and yet at the same time a little nervous about what was going to happen to me when the drug finally hit. Carl never acts in such an uncontrolled manner even when high or drunk, and to see him break down like that was very disconcerting.
At that point in time I was playing Star Fox 64 in the darkened living room. While the other two sat on couches watching, I took up a spot on the floor to play the game. I hadn't touched Star Fox in some years, so I was concentrating quite hard on the screen. Seeing that I was not having a quick reaction to the shrooms, our friendly chaperone sent his pipe around, and I took a long hit. The high swept through me, and I turned back to my game. Concentrating. Thinking. The game spun by, and childhood instincts resurfaced to aid me in playing it. Old connections were accessed and lit on fire. My brain locked into overdrive, and all at once I existed in more dimensions than I ever had before. I was completely unaware that my hands were still playing the video game; my mind was a trillion miles away.
I don't remember what I saw, except that it was big, and like a canyon. Or a fjord, I thought at the time.
I thought about a house and a room with a computer in it. I thought about a bed and a man and a woman. I sneered at the fantasy of existence in a four-dimensional world. I recoiled at the bitter, cruel joke of a temporary life lived in a constant forward temporal motion, and at the ludicrous notions of death and age. My room. My computer, and my bed. My mother, my father. My life, winding away in the moments of a world which was no longer real. Age, my constant curse, and the abyss of death, fast approaching.
My heart was thudding too hard. There was a buzzing in my ears. My brain felt like it was burning up. I fell back into my body gradually, coming down off that first shroom wave. I began babbling some shit about other worlds and souls and truth, and the more narcotically experienced of my two friends, Steve, laughed and waved my ramblings aside. Shortly thereafter a second wave hit me, and I began cackling like a madman, clutching my sides and rocking back and forth against the foot of the couch. This went on, from what I am told, for longer than it seemed at the time.
After that happened, I stopped playing Star Fox. I stood up, and felt absurdly drunk. My legs descended through invisible, numbing clouds and the ground was very very far away. I only managed to reach the computer because I figured out right off the bat that I could focus on the way things had been just a few minutes earlier and stave off the hallucinations which were spawning subtly inside my head. I sat down heavily in the computer chair and simply stared into space for a short while.
Then the bad trip started. For an hour, maybe two, I sat at the computer and let the insanity of my trip pour onto the page. I reached heights of terror and depression which I had never before dreamed possible. I was sure I was going to die, but didn't want to trouble my friends, and so just kept typing madly. At some point, I realized that I had been doing this for what seemed like forever, and that my ideas (whatever it was I was trying to understand, it's a bit fuzzy now) were running around in circles.
I made a decision right then. I was not going to sit and take this, all alone in the corner. I stood up abruptly from the computer and staggered into the living room where my friends were. I spent the rest of the night spazing out in front of the television, trying to force the trip to be good instead of bad, which is what I should have done from the beginning instead of bemoaning the incomprehensible nature of the experience. To some degree I actually succeeded. I repeatedly asked if it was possible to die from these things, and was repeatedly told that no, it wasn't possible. That helped a lot with the fear. Many hours passed. One of my friends wandered over to the computer and whistled, saying, 'Holy shit… he went through thirty pages.'
Our chaperone put in an Invader Zim DVD just to see what our reaction would be. I was convulsing in fits of maniacal laughter before the opening credits had passed. Then the show began in earnest, and I was terrified. I hid my face in my jacket until it ended. Some of the speech that I heard from my friends became garbled. Sometimes words would repeat randomly over and over again, like a record skipping, and I would look up with a start only to hear them continue on with their sentence as though nothing had happened. I noticed blurred faces chugging by far above as they walked back and forth over me. Someone handed me a box of Nerds, and I tore it apart, scattering the tiny candies all over the floor and rolling around in them.
Everyone elses' trip was shorter than mine by two or three hours. They fell asleep, and I paced around the house. At one point I went into the bathroom and took all my clothes off, then stared at myself in the mirror. My reflection had oily droplets leaking from its dilated pupils. After a bit the white skin grew too white, the eyes too piercing, and the face too triangular. I became sure that my reflection was going to murder me, and I quickly dressed and left the bathroom, shuddering as I went. I found my friend's floor mattress and curled up there for a while, watching in silence as the sun trickled in through the blinds.
Eventually I fell asleep. I did not dream.
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