Bad trip
First of all, Merry Christmas to each and every one of you. I'm as pissed as a fart and I'm feeling goodwill and love to all. In other words, I've had a typical Scottish Christmas.

And on with the story - as you may know, I've always had a special relationship with drugs. It's pretty similar to the relationship I have with women - I love them dearly, but they've really fucked me up over the years.

Our story takes place far back in the mists of time, when I was but 20 years old - just out my teens, smoking weed and taking E almost every weekend. I'd heard the stories about bad experiences and mental problems, but not once did I think it would affect me. I thought I was indestructible. Oh, what a fool I was.

It was a foggy November day - my mate Cowie had phoned to say he'd got hold of some magic mushrooms. I had never tried mushies before, so, needless to say, I was pretty excited by his illicit find. We made plans to meet up and get fucked - I had a couple of E's and a quarter ounce of dope left from the weekend previous, and, at the time, it seemed like a great idea to mix the drugs together and see what happened.

Cowie turned up around 8ish. My Mum and sister were away for the weekend, and we wasted no time in rolling a J, popping some E, then eventually trying the mushies. They tasted pretty foul - we had to wash them down with cans of Stella that were lying in the fridge. Since neither of us had taken them before, we thought we'd play it safe and take at least 20 each. They were pretty small, and we wanted to get properly fucked, after all. I should point out, for those that haven't taken magic mushrooms, that 5 of them would probably do the job. If only someone had told us that at the time...

As anyone who's ever ingested drugs can testify, it can take a long fucking time for them to kick in. After half an hour, we were feeling the buzz from the ecstasy and we were pretty stoned, but the mushrooms hadn't affected us at all. So, in our infinite wisdom, we decided to neck another 20.

Not long after, the first batch we had taken began to kick in. We found ourselves staring at the wallpaper, appreciating the patterns, while giggling like lunatics. Around this time, Cowie suggested taking a walk down to his house, reasoning that the fresh air would do us some good. Normally, the walk would take us 15 minutes at the most. We staggered along the road, pausing to stare at lamposts and road signs, and comment on how beautiful they looked. We took a 'shortcut' down a country road and ended up lying on our backs, watching the leaves on the trees making pretty patterns in the air. An hour later, we arrived at Cowie's.

Thankfully, his parents were also away for the weekend. I hate to think what we would have looked like - a couple of dishevelled lunatics, eyes glazed, talking absolute shite and laughing at nothing. We were feeling amazing - the high from the ecstasy and the mushrooms combined to provide the most glorious trip that I've ever experienced.

We made our way, slowly, up to his room, and collapsed onto the sofa. Cowie stuck on a Simpson's DVD, and, as we sat back to watch it, the second batch of mushies hit us hard. All of a sudden, it was like I had stepped into a cartoon world - the Simpsons and reality collided in a kaleidoscope of senses, and every colour seemed brighter, and somehow alien. It was almost like a newborn experiencing the world for the first time - every sense was sharpened, and it felt like I had never properly looked at the world until now. The lamp in the corner twisted into amazing shapes, and seemed to dance in front of my eyes. Everything was right with the world, and, for one brief, fleeting moment, everything fell into place and seemed to make sense.

We were high as kites - sailing on a mix of weed, ecstasy and magic mushrooms. But, as the old saying goes, what goes up must come down.

And, as the ecstasy wore off, down we came. Hard. I don't know if you've ever experienced hallucinogens on a come-down, but it's something I wouldn't wish onto my worst enemy. All of a sudden, everything seemed to grow slightly darker, and a vague sense of panic infused my very being. The things that had delighted me took on a forbidding air - the lamp began to twist into demonic shapes, and the Simpsons became somehow sinister and evil. I could see Cowie wasn't faring much better - he sat bolt upright, and exclaimed "The room! It's melting!" I could offer him no sympathy, as my own trip began to get darker and darker.

All of a sudden I was revisiting parts of my life, experiencing them almost as an out of body experience, with a strange voice whispering in my ear everything I had done wrong - what I should have said, what I could have done - all my regrets, made solid and passing in front of my eyes. It's what I imagine hell is like - your whole life, flashing in front of your eyes, with some malevolent force pointing out exactly where you went wrong. It was horrendous. I'm only glad there weren't any sharp objects to hand, as it's the only part of my life where I have seriously considered ending it all, if only to stop the horrifying visions that seemed to never end.

My memory from that point on is a little hazy - I have no idea what happened to Cowie. He later told me he ended up in his front garden, shouting at the shadows that were threatening to attack him. It's probably no coincidence that his neighbours started avoiding him from then on.

I may have fallen asleep - I can only remember brief snatches of dream-like thoughts. Like my dead Gran turning up, face decayed, and telling me how disappointed she was with me. Or my legs fusing together and starting to melt, like a wax candle that had been burning for too long. Somehow, we made it through the night. In the morning, we headed to our local pub for a relaxing pint, and, over our drinks, we swore that we would never mix our drugs again. It's a promise I have kept to this day.

And that is possibly the most stupid thing I have ever done to myself. I still have nightmares about it - waking up in the middle of the night, sweating like a paedo in a nursery, shouting, "No Gran, I'm sorry!" Not easy to explain to whoever you're sleeping next to, let me tell you.





P.S I apologise for length, but the trip lasted far far longer.
(Pavlov's Frog figures no-one really reads sigs anyway, Tue 25 Dec 2007, 23:26, 5 replies)

Nicely told...
...reminds me of my solitary foray into taking LSD. 45 mintues after taking a tab I decided I had been ripped off and took the other two tabs to prove my point.
They turned out to be very real LSD tabs indeed...
(emadex thinks the world will end on, Wed 26 Dec 2007, 0:52, closed)

This kind of shit
(the shit that happens to people, not that the story is shit) is exactly why I've never dropped acid or done 'shrooms. With my imagination and secret fears, I'd wind up screaming like a tortured bunny and seeing the Devil come out of my food.

Being high is great, but being terrorized? No thanks.
(TDub Nunc id vides, nunc ne vides on, Wed 26 Dec 2007, 21:15, closed)

my life with the thrill kill cult
I freaked out very very badly
I freaked out on acid
oh no I don't think acid again
acid again
acid again
acid again
(misskitty reeks of sex and turpentine; laudanum afternoons, Thu 27 Dec 2007, 2:06, closed)

.
I like my weed, but I'm shit-scared of everything else. I'm fucked up enough as it is, I really don't need household objects attacking me :)
(misanthrope is so adjective he's verbing nouns!, Thu 27 Dec 2007, 14:34, closed)

I've been there myself...
Dropped six pills at a mate's 18th, then took a load of acid a couple of hours later. The worst thing was trying to tell my Mum on the phone the next day that I wouldn't be able to go for lunch with her for Mother's Day, while still tripping my absoloute tits off.

This was the third time I'd ever taken acid and swore never to do it again.... Until the next weekend, but thankfully that was a much better trip. :)
(mini_molko, Wed 2 Jan 2008, 1:50, closed)