Citation: Graham. "Pretty Predictable: An Experience with Mushrooms (exp9175)". Erowid.org. Dec 5, 2003. erowid.org/exp/9175
My friend Eric and I decided to follow up the previous week's acid trip with a mushroom trip. Eric found some mushrooms for us and we drove to Yonge and St. Clair, where we parked the car and began our walk. The shrooms were expensive; Eric wanted to give them a try and was a little hard-pressed to get his hands on them. It was $10 for a gramme, and we each had two. That was around 9:45 at night. Our plan was to walk down Yonge Street and go from there. We began our walk.
The first thing of note took place right before we ate the shrooms. We bought a drink Ď Pepsi Twist. I also bought some more rolling papers since I adore a good joint and they had some of my favourite pure hemp rollies - so I bought a little box. They were 69 cents for 50, and with tax thatís 80 cents. I handed over a five, the smallest thing I had, and guess what change popped up on the register Ď 4.20!! It was awesome!
Eric had a craving for cigarettes. He usually hates them; he says they're disgusting and make him feel sick. However, he gets these cravings while on shrooms, it seems; the previous week (the day before the acid trip when he took a smaller amount of shrooms), he had had such a craving. Eric pegged Yonge and Bloor as the intersection where he guessed we'd feel some effects. I didn't feel much when we arrived there, besides perhaps some streakiness due to pupil dilation. Eric was feeling a body buzz.
We continued down the street. Toronto Hemp Company was closed, unfortunately, so we were unable to peruse the marijuana merchandise. Past Yonge and Bloor, the streets just became packed with people. There were plenty of beggars too. Eric and I discussed the beggars at length, concluding that they were probably so fucked up that they curse the people giving them money, pretending that they donít need them and somehow rationalising their situation so as not to face the truth.
Anyway, after a little while, my attention was drawn to a girl, who might have been around 16 or so, perhaps more my age; who knows. I noticed her because she was wearing bitch-boots (large leather boots which extend to a couple of inches below the knee). They're big, they're in your face, and they're supposed to be sexy. I was interested because these boots were, as per my impression, considered to be very fashionable in some circles and I was curious what this girl was doing with her friend walking around here at 10 at night. I was driven to follow her. I got Eric to agree and we followed them. Eric protested that he did not care about what she was wearing. I kept trying to tell him how I found her style of dress interesting because people choose their clothes for a set of reasons and I was interested in learning as much as I could of her reasons. Obviously she had money to blow on such things.
After musing about the Hudson's Bay store with the obnoxious subliminal message 'shopping is good' written all over its awnings, we sat down in front of this government building. Eric smoked another cigarette. We talked about his grandfather, who is, Eric told me, a very bitter and passionless man. When we began walking again, I started feeling the shrooms. I realised that my pupils must have been quite dilated because the lights were much brighter than before. I was compelled to stare at some of them, watching as tunnels seemed to form out of the trails of light emanating from them. We continued advancing. We reached a subway vent and I followed Eric's lead as we walked over it, experiencing the flow of hot air coming up from it. I was self-conscious, feeling as if I looked like a weirdo. However, it seemed as if everything was weird after that succession of strange things which we saw during the first part of the walk.
We sat down again on the traffic island in the middle of University Avenue. I stared at the light there. It caused a spot to form in my vision for a little while. When I looked up and down the base of the lamp-post, this spot followed me up and down the post like an eye. At that point, I was wishing that the shrooms would really take hold like the acid had. I felt tired of running by body and wanted a break where I wouldnít have to think about anything but just deal with shit as it came up. They shrooms would not take control at that point. The trip was not as I expected it; coming up was supposed to be faster than acid, perhaps twice as fast. The plateau was supposed to be shorter, too. It took about two hours before the shrooms really took effect, but I'll get to that later on.
We kept walking down Queen Street.
Eventually we reached a large intersection and sat down at the site of this large building. The intersection was a big one and there was lots of sidewalk; the general look of things was different. My pupils were really dilated; all the lights were very shiny. I wasn't all that tripped out, though. I felt a mood lift and a bit of a body buzz by this point, but no crazy hallucinations or anything. Eric lit up a cigarette. He smoked it, at one point 'antismoking' it he blew out of it, sending sparks flying and eventually extinguishing the cigarette. Once he had finished it, I cut it open and we sort of let the thing disintegrate. We discussed the cigarette for a bit. Eventually, I asked Eric if he wanted to smoke the joint I had brought with us. He wanted to, but down on King Street with all the banks. I was cool with that, but, to tell you the truth, I was getting a little more tired than I was stimulated, and I wanted to smoke the joint pretty badly because I just wasn't getting a real kick out of things at that point. I mean, it was fun, but it wasn't really that psychedelic.
Eventually, we found our way to a decent spot to smoke the joint. We sat down in this mini-courtyard sort of thing in front of a big building and smoked the joint. I can no longer remember what time it was then, but it was probably around midnight, or perhaps a bit before. It was a lovely joint. I love a good hand-rolled joint. Each puff has a nice texture to it and you get plenty of smoke without too much work. Itís portable and probably the least harsh way I've found to smoke pot since every other method requires actually toking hard on the pot. I prefer to use my cheeks and then suck down the slightly cooled smoke. You get more of a taste of it and I find that even bongs are harsher.
Anyway, the joint really did it for me. After smoking the joint, my mind completely turned on. Suddenly, I was feeling the effects of pot on top of the shrooms, and I was capable of putting way more mental energy through my brain. Everything after that was cooler because I was stoned. I was extremely pleased. I thought about how the soles of my feet, which dulled my perception of the ground, were like emotional barriers which we erect in life. Anyway, I donít want to go on forever about that. I was very happy with adding pot to that experience.
Eventually, we reached this entrance to a building, an entrance to the underground PATH. It was locked! Well, Eric would have none of that. We had to get in. We walked to the next building over and found that we could enter the path through it. I was a little concerned because we stuck out like a sore thumb. Basically, we were two guys off the street. It worried me to think what might happen if we were confronted. I suppose nothing really bad could have happened, but it would have sucked.
The underground was really trippy. This was where I really started feeling the shrooms. There were a lot of echoes down there, and those echoes sounded very loud and distorted. Everything distant was higher in pitch than normal, rather than lower. It was very strange. We went for food; Eric got a cinnamon bun and a drink. I got a hot chocolate. The aforementioned chocolate was too hot, and I ended up burning my tongue and then spilling it on my hand. That was unfortunate. The place was closing up and we were asked politely to go, which we did. I was feeling very tripped out at that point; I kept staring at my drink to avoid looking around because the noises I was hearing from the other few people walking through the place were too trippy and scary.
The next thing we found was a smoking room! Eric couldnít help himself; we went in and Eric smoked a cigarette. I went to the nearby washroom and relieved myself; it had been a while. After washing my face and such, I felt revitalised. I walked back to Eric and, after he finished his cigarette, we got up and left.
Now, I'm not entirely sure what happened for about ten minutes following that. Somehow, though, we managed to find our way to the SkyDome. We went on the Skywalk and came out at the base of the CN Tower. The CN Tower tripped me out a lot. We lay down on benches right beside it and looked up. The multicoloured lights on the tower were so trippy that I started having hallucinations just watching it. I canít really describe what I saw, but it was impressive nonetheless. We sat there for a while, entranced. I have to stress that I was having hallucinations. This was about the only time I had serious hallucinations, so for all intents and purposes, that was the peak.
Walking around the structure, we came upon some fellows who were taking pictures. They looked pretty drunk. Eric enjoyed the irony of making such judgements while on mad psychedelics.
We left the tower after a while and were walking around the streets surrounding it. Eric whipped out his pipe and we smoked some more pot. Eric was happy about how pot seemed to breathe new life into the trip with every toke. He said something along the lines of Ďeach toke is one step closer to madness.í The pot was nice indeed.
I canít quite remember how we got back into the underground. We sat and smoked some cigarettes when some people were around us. We got back into the underground and had some more fun. At one point, we were in a little tunnel and there was a difference in air pressure between it and a room connected to it such that you could get noises of different pitches depending on how far open the door was. At one point, we came up in the lobby of some place and decided to go back down rather than try and escape through that buildingís doors. There were people there and the situation worried us. We had to leave the underground again purely to smoke more pot. We smoked another bowl while walking up Yonge Street south of King Street. Eventually we found our way to King Street Station.
There was a verbal battle going on between a black immigrant and a drunken aboriginal. The drunk was telling him to go back to his country, that this was his land as a first nations person. The woman in the booth was a bit worried that this would turn into a mess; the situation had probably just broken out. I asked for change and then dropped in two dollars to get on the subway. Eric followed me and we got into the train. The drunk was in the same car, but he switched from yelling curses mode to sitting down and twitching mode. Everybody was lounging more than you normally see on the subway. We made some other observations and eventually reached St. Clair. We got off and walked back to the car. We werenít quite as tripped out at this point, or at least I wasnít. Perhaps I was but I just didnít think much of it.
We drove to a park, sat down and I packed us a pretty big bowl of pot. It was a nice smoke. Eric was a little worried about driving while on shrooms, though. I donít think itís that bad, though. I wouldnít do it if it werenít necessary, but with shrooms youíre pretty much in control; you can drive short distances. Acid is a different story, though. You might be fine one minute and then an emotional wreck the next.
After our final smoke, Eric drove me home.
I wasnít as messed up as with the acid. Acid is a little sketchier than shrooms. The shrooms were pretty predictable. I was having some tripped out stuff going on, but other than that it was normal. I was in control of my emotions Ď thatís something I canít say about acid. I would say that youíve got to be careful with acid. I think that after taking acid, especially if you took two hits or something (i.e. a moderate dose instead of a light dose), walking the streets of Toronto would suck. I would have gotten really freaked out down there if I had been on acid.
So that was my first mushroom trip. We saw and did some crazy shit, smoked some very nice pot, and generally had a great time! Overall, though, I think I was happier with the acid trip because it was more enlightening. Then again, thereís only so much enlightenment you can have in this world; sometimes you just have to have fun!
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