Citation: daturodactyl. "Death and Psychic Dinosaurs: An Experience with brugsmansia (exp91301)". Erowid.org. Feb 16, 2012. erowid.org/exp/91301
I was on my way to drink at my friend Cs house with some friends. I took a walk through the botanical gardens, sipping on a bottle of red wine. It was a nice night, and my mind was wandering the astral airwaves, mostly dwelling on my at the time obsession with the arcane and the surreal. I'm fairly certain that was a major factor in my decision to pick a couple of blood red angels trumpets on my way. I had no plans to indulge at that point, but for whatever reason it seemed like a good idea.
At my friends, we drank queitly and watched skateboarding videos. I'm not particularly close to these people. In fact I wasn't particularly close to anyone at this point. Mostly, we just shared an interest in skateboarding.
After an hour or so, we decided to go to a party at another friends house, a few minutes walk away. I wasn't enjoying this party, but I did the human thing and drunk and smoked and chattered about the real world.
At some point, a friend S asked if I had any sweet drugs. As a joke, I presented him with my datura flowers. He responded with a firm 'Fuck that' and we discussed my hellish experiences with the drug, concluding that I shouldn't do it again. But after a moment of introspection, I said to S 'Hey S, last trip' and munched down the two flowers and washed them down with red wine. I didn't place very much emphasis on this decision, but in hindsight, my life was lacking anything to give it structure or meaning, and I felt free to roam the world of chaos. But my memory of the night faded to dreams and confusion at this point, but I believe I sat quietly in a chair. I imagine this to be around midnight.
My first coherent memory- Quite oblivious to the fact that I had lost my shoes and pants, I was trying to get into a flat I had lived at about a year ago, about half an hour away from the party. I had imagined my key in my hand, but it wasn't working at all. I soon noticed I had an older man in my company. 'That's Olives house' he told me. So I knocked loudly. A middle aged lady answered, yelling at me to fuck off. My response was something along the lines of 'sorry I thought I lived here...' and I wandered off. At this point, I had no idea I was under the influence, and it seemed like a reasonable mistake to make. The man looking for Olive disappearing wasn't particularly disconcerting either.
After remembering were I lived, I started heading in that direction. I experienced a frightening hallucination soon after-
I was walking past an island on the road. There was a small sign on it, about waist high. In my questionable judgement, this sign was a small one legged girl holding a sign. I thought it very sweet that someone had found a job for her, and started walking towards her. From the other side of the road, as if to mirror me, a dark and seemingly featureless man was walking towards her as well. He reached her before me and proceeded to viciously bind her with some kind of masking tape while she resisted and screamed a muffled cry. By the time I reached her, the attacker had vanished, and the girl had become a street sign. I was convinced he had turned this girl in to a street sign in a most inhumane manner.
My next memory is reaching Cs house. I have since been told that this was about seven AM. Cs flatmate D answered the door, waiting for a package. He then went and got C, 'I thought it was my package but it was just (me) in Fucking hot pants.'
In Cs room, he very seriously told me that when we left his place I still had my pants on, but I wasn't convinced. I was lapsing in and out of believing this was my room, and began leafing through his belongings. Apparently I was talking very quietly and slowly. He told me later that I asked to borrow his pants, and he said to ask D to borrow his.
To this I replied 'That would be opening a can of worms.' and walked off. I'm surprised that in all my Fucked upness I could manage an off hand remark like that. D later said that after I left, I stood for like a quarter hour on their door step. I remember looking in their window and seeing swirling etheric forms, morphing very seemlessly from daemon faces to small scenes. I then spent a while trying to get into my bedroom from Cs house.
The walk home was terrifying. I lived almost an hour away and had to deal with the constant realisation that I was Fucked up, pantless and totally delusional. I kept finding fingers in the pocket of my hoody and mistaking the folds in the end of my sleeves for various items. I hoped to god my underwear was real. I also kept imagining my skateboard in my hands and would go to get on it and stumble.
Horrifying hallucination 2-
I seemed to be in an industrial, eraserheadesque area that I did not recognize. I spotted out of the corner of my eye a chubby girl in a mcdonalds uniform dancing. She noticed me and stopped suddenly and started walking very slowly before
tripping over. She started to scream, so I walked towards her and she started regurgitating a fetus. It sounded very painful. Before I reached her, the familiar featureless bastard emerged from nowhere, stomped the fetus and gave me a most evil glare. I ran away. I've never been so terrified before or since.
For the majority of my walk home, I felt like I was extremely Fucked a minute ago, before interacting with one of my hallucinations. I kept imagining the company of various people in my life and I heard my name constantly. One of my friends tried to show me a dead body he'd found, but I didn't want to hear about it. He gave me a very hurt look as I walked away.
I had a five second memory and walked around in a lot of circles. Someone mentioned that my attire was 'creative'. I thought he was talking about my hoody and mentioned how the hood did its job better than most. All the way home, I felt like I was hearing peoples thoughts. There were usually a few trains of thought going through their heads at once. I could hear them notice me,then notice my lack of clothes, then decide to avoid my eyes. A few times peoples thoughts pointed out things about me that I hadn't noticed. Like that I was wearing one sock.
Eventually I made it to the botanical gardens and my trip took a turn for the better. I could hear the trees talking, and my hallucinatory friends stuck around long enough to have elaborate discussions. It still seemed to be normal for them to turn into trees, fenceposts etc when they finished talking to me. I was phasing in and out awareness of the fact that I was hallucinating, but I was always delusional. I thought I was saving face in front of the 'real' people who were going about their mornings by telling my hallucinations that I knew they weran't there. In reality I was angrily yelling 'Leave me alone I know you're not real' to no one.
It was raining by this point, and I noticed that the fallen leaves were set up to display intricate scenes, like a timeline of the universe. This was worth all the terror and confusion of the trip, and I spent a very long time sitting in a puddle learning about the universe. Apparently the dinosaurs had psychic battles and were all linked up in some kind of morphic field. This eventually killed them when they became competitive with each other within this field, destroying it from the inside. This was a most amazing hallucination that still inspires me with its intricacy. Even now that I realize there was not in fact a hippy sitting there and carefully arranging the leaves, the feeling of amazement that someone had that inhuman level of patience and attention to detail was so powerful that I still draw on it for artistic inspiration.
As I was leaving the gardens, me friend tried to say hi to me, but I explained to him that he wasn't real and kept walking. I turned to look at him several times, expecting to see him turn into a rock, but for an unexpectedly long time he just stared at me with puppy eyes. He did turn into a rock in the end.
I was happy to be on the home stretch, as I lived about ten minutes away. I was manifesting objects in my hand to an impressive standard of realism. I walked past a lady and heard her say something like 'Bit tired huh?' I begged her pardon and she said she didn't say anything. I said I must be tired and kept walking.
Making it home was a huge relief. I was free to enjoy the visuals in peace, as my flatmates at the time were well used to my antics. As I wandered around the house, it was as if everything I'd ever experienced there was happening at once. I'd walk into the kitchen and find myself in some random conversation I'd had in that part of the kitchen. There were dozens of versions of each of my flatmates, going about days they'd had in the past. Eventually I went to bed and had a Waking Life series of vivid and surreal conversations with people I had or had not encountered. I talked to my older brother who died about three years earlier, which was another thing that made the trip worthwhile.
I don't remember what we talked about, just being vaguely aware that he was dead and feeling very awkward about bringing it up. After an incredibly eventful sleep, I spent the next few days cleaning up the mess I made, finding new skate shoes, getting a new phone and cards. I'm afraid to ask the cops if anyone handed my jeans in as my phone was full of dodgy texts. Mostly I spent the next week or so living in a haze. I think I blacked out for about seven hours and tripped for well over 24 hours.
But I didn't feel normal for over a week. To those of you out there interested in exploring this world, I'd recommend doing something to stop yourself going wandering. I have no way of knowing what happened during my blackout, which makes me feel somewhere between disturbed and frustrated. Some of the more frightening visions stayed with me for months, so you'd do well to be fairly mentally stable. I guess.
It doesn't matter how experienced you are with hallucinogens. As far as I was concerned, the world was behaving strangely around me. For most of the trip, I had no idea I was Fucked up. And the moments of clarity were few and far between.
The best moments were in my bed exploring my mind, and I'm in two minds about whether it was worth the terror, confusion and the depression that followed, even for someone like me who, at the time, lived for that shit. But overall I think the time spent in terror wasn't any more prominent than the time spent in awe.
It was the best of times, it was the blurst of times.
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