A maddening weekend of too many drugs, a bad trip, and the biggest rave I've ever been to.

[Intenso]

:siren: [B]I really apologize for the massive wall of text, but do give the thread a chance - I promise you that it's a worthwhile story to read. If you don't believe me, read the responses that DD has given.[/B] :siren:

Well, it's been quite an exciting weekend. Quite possibly the most exciting and most valuable weekend of my life. All included, I made and bonded with new friends, took far too many drugs, danced to exhaustion, deprived myself of sleep, had an intense psychedelic and spiritual inner journey to the tune of both an amazing and frightening psychedelic experience, and learned several valuable lessons. This is not a story advocating the use of drugs, neither is it a cautionary tale discouraging the use of them. Whatever insight you gain from reading this story is completely your own and totally up to you.

The following includes real events based on the experiences I've had while sober, on LSD, on THC, on psilocybin mushrooms, and salvia divinorum on this passing weekend of insanity.

I'll begin with a brief introduction: I'm seventeen years old, and a junior in high school. I was first exposed to the magical world of drugs, especially hallucinogens, by friends and by movies like Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas. The same friends, and films about raves like Groove, introduced me to rave culture. I first started taking drugs myself a few months ago, in November or so. I started off with weed, and later began experimenting with other substances like ecstasy, or in Southern California's lingo, thizz. At one point, I even took meth-based ecstasy pills, and a psychedelic called 2C-E, a drug synthesized by Alexander Shulgin alongside ecstasy and other members of the group of drugs known as the "magical half-dozen." But prior to this weekend, the only drugs I'd ever been under the influence of were weed, ecstasy, meth, and 2C-E.

Other than weed, I'd only taken drugs at raves. As of a few months ago, electronic dance music and raves, as well as the culture behind them, became my life. In fact, it still [I]is[/I] my life. Ironically enough, the energetic, happy and friendly atmosphere surrounding and pervading raves brings a feeling of peace and serenity to myself. To be at a rave is to be at home. To be at a rave is to be surrounded by friendly, open people, strangers even, who would happily greet you, hug you, and begin a conversation with you if you approached them. To see people brought together by drugs and music, entranced by it and moving and dancing in rhythm is truly amazing. Raving is a wonderful experience, and I would never have it any other way. The experience of having a drug affect your mind in a positive way simply completes the experience.

My experiences with weed were almost always positive ones. I had taken ecstasy three or four times at raves and always made sure to take care of myself, trying to minimize potential damage by spacing out my "rolls" by a few weeks each. (For those who are unaware, the duration of one's experience on ecstasy is referred to as a roll.) I'd only ever had a few bad experiences on drugs, when I had a panic attack while coming down from ecstasy, but they were always short and minimal. They were merely brief bumps in the road as far as I was concerned. I came to the conclusion that, and excuse this tired expression, that I felt as though I was ready to find out just how deep the rabbit-hole went. I had to expand my experiences with psychedelics.

So, I decided that I would try LSD. Experiences on acid vary tremendously, and although I knew there was the risk of having a bad trip, I had an extremely positive attitude about it. I concluded that I would drop acid at the next rave, which happened to be on March fourth, last Friday. My friends and I had actually planned on taking shrooms the day after, on Saturday, so I'd be expanding my palette even wider. I was looking forward to it all week.

Finally, Friday came, and off to the rave we went. It was situated downtown, so we had to drive across town to get there. We finally got there a little bit past seven. It was supposed to start at seven in the evening, but they were late. A massive line encircled the building, known as The Dome, for at least a block. We sat around in my friend's truck for a while, waiting for the doors to open. Luckily, we had purchased pre-sale tickets, so we didn't need to wait in the massive line. The event itself was so massive that there was in fact a line for people waiting to get in with [I]prepurchased[/I] tickets. We were one of the first people to get in, as it was fairly empty when we got inside.

Immediately, I was approached by one of my other friends who had gotten there before we did, a fellow by the name of Partyboy. I was planning on getting a tab of acid from one of my other friend's dealers there, but Partyboy directed me to another fellow who actually had a [I]vial[/I] of acid. I excitedly handed him ten dollars, and he happily gave me a drop on my tongue. It had a metallic taste, and numbed the spot on my tongue where the drop fell. For a fleeting moment, it felt as though it were sizzling in my mouth. This is it, I thought. I'm finally trying acid, and it's going to be amazing. So amazing.

It was still early, and the Dome was quite empty, although fellow ravers were slowly trickling in. I sat around with my friends waiting for things to get busy. I was also waiting for the acid to kick in. Since I had taken it, I began to enter a mood of surreal calmness. It was a sense of tranquility that would precede the later, more energetic effects of the lysergic acid. At the time, I compared it to “the calm before the storm,” as the expression goes. A storm it would become indeed - an intense, yet gratifying psychotropic storm.

To kill some time as we waited, we decided to hang around outside. The Dome has a main building for which it is named, and behind that is a less imposing structure referred to as the “back room.” Between these buildings is a small courtyard with tables and benches, where we could hear each other talk and take a break from the madness inside if so inclined. As we conversed, a handful of other ravers joined us, including a pair of rather attractive girls who wisely chose to enter the safety of a group. At some point while we were outside, the true effects of the acid began to take hold. As we were shooting the breeze, I caught a glimpse of a massive shape looming overhead. “That’s interesting,” was my immediate reaction. It was reminiscent of an alien mothership, with flashing strobes and placid lights lining the shadowy silhouette. It disappeared into the dull orange, light-polluted night sky within a second.

To kick off the trip, one of my friends, The Painter, offered to give me a lightshow. The Painter is so-named for his mastery in giving lightshows, seemingly painting pictures in the air with his gloves. I eagerly accepted, and I started to follow him inside when I realized that moving felt strange. A bizarre sensation had washed over my legs that I could not explain, and my arms felt weightless. Although it doesn’t make a bit of sense, and sounds borderline retarded, this thought was completely coherent to me at the time – I arrived to the conclusion that my legs were oranges.

I followed the Painter into the thick darkness of the Dome, taking note of the ever-increasing number of people inside, weaving around them on legs which were now citruses. I walked with a slightly drunken swagger, and flailed my arms about lightly, reveling in the buoyancy in my upper body and loathing the seemingly acidic tinge in my lower extremities. The Dome is essentially a miniature coliseum, so the inner perimeter is lined with tiers that climb to the ceiling – and on acid, that only meant one thing: giant fucking stairs. With great effort, I managed to crawl up the tiers. For others, this was probably very entertaining to watch. I reflected on that assumption as I climbed upward, but I took pride in the fact that I probably looked absolutely hysterical. I imagined Hunter Thompson walking around Las Vegas while fried out of his mind in [URL="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fear_and_loathing_in_las_vegas"]Fear and Loathing[/URL] and laughed.

After climbing for what seemed like minutes, we finally situated ourselves in a far corner of the room. It was then that I realized we were only on the second tier of the floor, maybe three feet from ground level. Shrugging off this realization, I made a cozy space for myself in a corner with my back against the wall. The Painter loomed over me like a giant, and began the lightshow without warning. Immediately, I was overcome with a flood of bright, colorful trails that left vivid patterns in my vision, perfectly synchronized to the music reverberating in my chest. It was a truly wonderful, kaleidoscopic display of candy for my eyes. My eyes were eating this candy. It was delicious. I’m not sure how my eyes could suddenly taste light, but I’m not even going to begin trying to understand it. I melted into the floor in the hopes that the lights would reflect off of me if I were a puddle. After Painter finished his lightshow, I closed my eyes to the sight of another dimension composed of brilliant fractals and colorful patterns contorting and twisting to the music.

The rave was really getting started now. The slow trickle of people coming in over the night meant that the crowd was constantly getting bigger and bigger. We decided that it was about time we started dancing, so Painter helped me up and we descended back down the tiers. I carefully plodded down to ground level and noticed my heart beating outside of my chest. Around the time that we merged into the convulsing crowd of dancing ravers, the rotation of DJs switched, and a fellow by the name of Pornscore started his mix. It was incredible - he tore the place [I]up[/I]. The floor was quite literally bouncing. The crazy bastard actually stood on top of the DJ table, pretended to surf, DJed with his [I]feet[/I], and then danced around on the table. I swear to God, the image he makes for himself is going to make him famous one day.

While I was dancing, I was continually distracted by my acidic legs and sudden bouts of self consciousness. I soon discovered that covering my face with a bandana, like a train robber, lifted these feelings of meekness and timidity from myself. Along with its seemingly magical effect of completely eliminating shyness, the bandana-turned-facemask was soaked in spray-on deodorant to mitigate the thick haze of cigarette smoke, body odor, and fog that pervaded the air inside the Dome. Every time I lifted it over my face, I was blissfully overcome by the cool feeling against my skin and the refreshingly sweet smell that seemed to wash over my body, as well as the unexplained sense of revived self-esteem. I can only assume that the sense of anonymity a mask would normally instill in a person is what I felt when I wore it, but I still consider that checkered bandana to be a magical thing, even if it’s just a piece of cloth.

Around the time that I rediscovered the now-mystical bandana, I took a break from dancing and started palling around a bit with another one of my friends, the Big Friendly Giant, named for his towering height of 6’7”. Although he had taken ecstasy several times before, they were either bunk pills or they just didn’t hit him for whatever reason, because he never truly rolled until that night. He has a mild case of autism, and is normally rather reserved, but the ecstasy he took completely cured him. The man ended up ripping his shirt off, dancing himself to near exhaustion, and making dozens of new friends. Somehow, he even acquainted himself with a bunch of inner-city, shady motherfuckers, and for a skinny white kid from the suburbs, that’s pretty damn impressive. Another friend, who will forever be known as Backwards, inadvertently tried smoking out of the wrong end of a pipe and ended up with a mouthful of ash.

The night became a colorful mélange of conversations, hallucinations, awesome visuals, light-shows given by friends and strangers, dancing, smoking, watching the lasers dance through the fog, trading of kandi, and hugs and kisses. The rave tore the Dome up – you could feel the bass in your chest from across the street. The building was literally shaking, scattering plaster dust from the ceiling from time to time. It ended up being the biggest electronic music event in my city's history, with well over 1600 people attending. Bakersfield isn't too big, so this event was absolutely massive for the size of our town. Pictures:

[img_thumb]http://i72.photobucket.com/albums/i170/potsm_master/Sugar%20with%20Caffeine%20March%204th/200778_156167621106434_100001395927473_331401_6838513_n.jpg[/img_thumb][img_thumb]http://i72.photobucket.com/albums/i170/potsm_master/Sugar%20with%20Caffeine%20March%204th/197125_156167604439769_100001395927473_331400_4851455_n.jpg[/img_thumb][img_thumb]http://i72.photobucket.com/albums/i170/potsm_master/Sugar%20with%20Caffeine%20March%204th/197728_156167514439778_100001395927473_331395_5582103_n.jpg[/img_thumb]
[img_thumb]http://i72.photobucket.com/albums/i170/potsm_master/Sugar%20with%20Caffeine%20March%204th/196316_156167564439773_100001395927473_331397_6805624_n.jpg[/img_thumb][img_thumb]http://i72.photobucket.com/albums/i170/potsm_master/Sugar%20with%20Caffeine%20March%204th/183961_156167631106433_100001395927473_331402_1068647_n.jpg[/img_thumb][img_thumb]http://i72.photobucket.com/albums/i170/potsm_master/Sugar%20with%20Caffeine%20March%204th/184199_156167681106428_100001395927473_331406_4165799_n.jpg[/img_thumb]
[img_thumb]http://i72.photobucket.com/albums/i170/potsm_master/Sugar%20with%20Caffeine%20March%204th/185981_156167541106442_100001395927473_331396_2848955_n.jpg[/img_thumb][img_thumb]http://i72.photobucket.com/albums/i170/potsm_master/Sugar%20with%20Caffeine%20March%204th/190439_156167737773089_100001395927473_331409_6771690_n.jpg[/img_thumb][img_thumb]http://i72.photobucket.com/albums/i170/potsm_master/Sugar%20with%20Caffeine%20March%204th/196842_156167691106427_100001395927473_331407_8298417_n.jpg[/img_thumb]
[img_thumb]http://i72.photobucket.com/albums/i170/potsm_master/Sugar%20with%20Caffeine%20March%204th/198073_156167667773096_100001395927473_331405_2191768_n.jpg[/img_thumb][img_thumb]http://i72.photobucket.com/albums/i170/potsm_master/Sugar%20with%20Caffeine%20March%204th/196279_156167711106425_100001395927473_331408_8231623_n.jpg[/img_thumb][img_thumb]http://i72.photobucket.com/albums/i170/potsm_master/Sugar%20with%20Caffeine%20March%204th/190631_156167594439770_100001395927473_331399_6834001_n.jpg[/img_thumb]
[img_thumb]http://i72.photobucket.com/albums/i170/potsm_master/Sugar%20with%20Caffeine%20March%204th/183516_156167574439772_100001395927473_331398_3707654_n.jpg[/img_thumb][img_thumb]http://i72.photobucket.com/albums/i170/potsm_master/Sugar%20with%20Caffeine%20March%204th/188947_156167651106431_100001395927473_331403_7983718_n.jpg[/img_thumb][img_thumb]http://i72.photobucket.com/albums/i170/potsm_master/Sugar%20with%20Caffeine%20March%204th/189702_185598391481204_100000931338285_385161_7529992_n.jpg[/img_thumb]

I guess the pictures don't really matter if you don't appreciate raves, but never mind.

When the rave finally ended at about two in the morning, the acid was still peaking. We gathered ourselves and our things together and staggered off to our cars to make our journey home to the Big Friendly Giant’s house, where we would spend the night coming down from the drugs we had taken. We were safe about it, and had designated drivers. The Big Friendly Giant’s brother, Aquatic, was one of them. As we were on the way home, Aquatic realized that he had left his phone at the rave, so we turned around and drove back, much to the dismay of his passengers. I was indifferent about it. While everyone else was still coming down, my acid trip was still at its peak. We parked by the Dome, and waited as Aquatic went back inside.

Suddenly, we heard a crash. Screaming. We sheepishly looked out the back window and saw people running towards a street a few hundred feet away. Someone had been run over by a car. "Run over" isn't quite an accurate phrase, however - "completely destroyed" is a better description. Some poor girl was now in pieces, in a pool of her own blood, lying in the street. She was completely motionless. No one was quite sure if she was breathing - everyone was afraid to touch her. Luckily, some had enough composure to call an ambulance. Unfortunately for Aquatic, he was one of the first to rush over to her. He stood over her crumpled, bleeding form and stared into the face of death. He was torn up pretty badly about it. He'd never be the same. I still haven't heard a word about what happened to her in the end, but something tells me that she died.

In any event, Aquatic regained his wits and drove us back to his home, where the rest of our friends were waiting. When we told them what had happened, funnily enough, some of them were actually upset over the fact that they weren't there when it happened. I envy them. We sat around in Aquatic's living room, watching Adult Swim, eating, relaxing, and recuperating after the events of the night. Well, at least most of us were - one fellow by the name of Orgasmo decided to bring a girl who was absolutely fucked up on ecstasy back to Aquatic's home and snort a substance called ketamine, referred to colloquially as horse tranquilizer. It was the wee hours of Saturday morning at that point when we sat around outside, passing a bong from person to person as everyone nursed a cigarette and the girl inside was singing to herself collapsed on the floor underneath a table. Madness.

Aquatic's mother is a flight attendant and was out of town at the time, but hilariously enough, Aquatic's great-grandmother was actually in his house at the time. The poor woman has Alzheimer's disease on top of being senile, so she posed no threat. She kept to herself mostly, and whenever she actually came out of her wing of the house, she only muttered about her desire to eat salt.

After smoking a few bowls, everyone stumbled off to sleep somewhere inside. Aquatic and his brother, the Big Friendly Giant, slept in their own beds. Others slept on couches and some slept on the floor. I laid down on a couch by myself, cuddled up with pillows and a blanket, watching and enjoying the incredible, colorful, swirling fractals and patterns behind my closed eyes. Bradley, a nice fellow to have around, made an awesome egg sandwich and shared it with me. The fucker cooks amazing things, and is generally a very friendly, warm person to spend time with. The night wouldn't have been the same without him.

I woke up some time later at around seven in the morning to the sound of many voices. I'd only gotten about two and a half hours of sleep, probably less. Everyone was up already, even Aquatic's brother, the Big Fucking Giant, or BFG, who funnily enough, sleep as though he were a hibernating giant. Our other friends who hadn't slept at Aquatic's home joined the party, too. As for me, the acid was long gone. I picked myself up and shuffled into the kitchen, where Bradley was cooking eggs and pink pancakes. Yes, pink pancakes, I shit you not. He convinced everyone that the pancakes were expired, hence the pink color, but the fucker just put food coloring in it. It was hilarious to watch everyone eat these pink pancakes, even though they were under the impression that they were expired. Once we had finished our breakfast, Bradley, Orgasmo, and the girl left. Aquatic left for work. They wouldn't join us for the day. At this point, it was just me, the Big Fucking Giant, the Painter, Sweaty, Pud, Tazer, and Aquatic's/BFG's great-grandmother there.

A long overdue run-down of our company: the nick-names that I use to refer to my friends are our "rave names," nicknames that we use to refer to each other at raves and even outside of them. The Painter is my best friend, named so because of the [URL="http://a8.sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc4/162754_188368217846378_100000196033583_790365_16482_n.jpg"]amazing light-shows he gives[/URL]. Sweaty is named for obvious reasons. The Big Friendly Giant, or BFG, is 6'7". Pud is lazy bastard, and Pud means lazy bastard. Tazer is so named because she had been shocked with a low-voltage tazer at one of the raves. Orgasmo is named for his ability to get girls really easily. Bradley doesn't have a nick-name, but he might as well be named The Cook. Aquatic is named for having a lap time in swimming four seconds short of an Olympic time. That's our group.

Once Orgasmo, Bradley, and the girl had left, we set about starting the day as we had planned: making tea out of our magic mushrooms, to extract the psilocybin and ingest it all. Tazer and the Painter would be our trip-sitters, making sure we didn't do anything brought on by the psilocybin. The Painter brewed the tea in a pot, and when it was finished, strained the tea into mugs from which myself and Pud, Sweat, and BFG would drink from. The Painter picked out the caps and stems of the mushrooms and set them on a plate, which we would ingest along with the tea.

We sat around outside in BFG's patio, sipping the tea and eating the mushrooms. In total, we had brewed half an ounce of mushrooms. The tea itself was pretty horrible. I finished the mug and ate about a third of the plate of shrooms. Sweaty and BFG had about a third between themselves. Pud didn't eat any of the shrooms. By the time the last third or so of the mushrooms was left on the plate, everyone was too sick of the stuff to finish it. Obviously, I had had the biggest dose of the mushrooms. We spread a blanket out in the sunny backyard, and laid out in the sun. The Painter brought his boom box outside too. We lay about, dozed lazily, and listened to progressive house music and glitch.

The psilocybin from the mushrooms is broken down by the body into psilocin, which creates the hallucinogenic effects of the magic mushrooms. The trip began when I began to see really intense visuals - the most vivid and intense visuals I'd ever seen. It felt as though I were staring at a swirling, colorful, ever-changing painting. Strangely enough, even though we were outside in a sunny, warm backyard, everything felt very neutral - it was a strange contrast from the acid trip of the previous dark night, which had felt extremely positive. Despite the overall neutral tone of the shroom trip at the time, I never began to think that it would descend into horrible psychedelic madness and insanity.

After spending an hour or so outside in the sun, we decided to go and sit down in the patio again. BFG's patio had a few couches and chairs in it, so it was quite comfortable to sit lazily in the shade as well. We packed a bowl of weed and passed the bong around while we listened to music. The Painter didn't smoke with us, as he was cautious about doing drugs during the day.

Later on, we went inside. Pud, Sweaty, and Tazer sat in the living room and watched television. I went upstairs and had a piss. When I came downstairs, I sat in the family room with the Painter and had a few moments of comfortable silence with him. After the comfortable silence, we shared a conversation about life and the universe, sitting around lazily. Our other friend, Thor, arrived shortly afterward. Thor is so named for an ecstasy-induced observation I once made, being that he resembled a Norse God. He's an aspiring DJ, and so brought his speakers and DJ table with him to play his electro house mix for us while we tripped.

While Thor was setting up his equipment, we'd grown tired of the dull atmosphere of BFG's family room. The Painter and I took a journey outside and sat by the pond, where we admired the serene atmosphere of BFG's quiet backyard. The Painter handed me a flower to closely examine and admire. He swirled a stick around in the pond, and we watched the ripples and patterns move about in the water. We compared the filthy water to primordial soup, and in fact, Painter noted that the pools of ooze on early Earth from which life had emerged in the form of abiogenesis from billions of years ago might have looked like this pond. We walked around the rest of the backyard, too, and stood by the pool, whose bottom resembled the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina. The bottom of it was littered with dirt, sand, leaves, palm fronds, and other plant detritus. For a while, the sight made me think I was in the ocean. The Painter had had quite a bit of experience with shrooms - although he was sober, he knew just how to keep me calm and entertained. He'd been on shrooms over a dozen times himself. Truthfully, I admire him a lot, and have a great deal of respect for him - in many ways, the Painter is like my older brother. He takes care of me so much, sober or otherwise.

Eventually, the Painter got a phone call from his mother, whose car had broken down. So, he had to leave to pick her up and take her back home. He'd also take the opportunity to purchase food for us and some salvia divinorum, the diviner's sage, for himself. I was quite dismayed that he had to leave, even for that short time - I was really enjoying the time I was spending with him. Although Pud, Sweaty, BFG, Thor, and Tazer are my friends too, somehow I felt far more at peace with the Painter than I did with them.

When I returned inside, I found Pud, Sweaty, and Tazer watching television. BFG had gone upstairs to his room to sleep for several hours. I didn't really want to think about what he might have been going through alone in his room in the depths of a mushroom trip. I joined them on the couch, and soon Thor began to spin his mix. We muted the television and sat back to enjoy the music. After a while, we all went outside to relax in the patio again, as the music was easily audible even from outside. Thor joined us too, and we sat about while we each had a cigarette. I had a short cigarette holder, resembling the kind that Hunter S. Thompson frequently kept in his mouth. The feeling of it between my teeth was somehow comforting, and it brought on quite the Fear and Loathing vibe. After we'd had the last puffs of our cigarettes, we shuffled back inside. For some reason, however, removing ourselves from the patio and returning inside the house made me feel suddenly uncomfortable.

As I sat on the couch, I began to have depressing thoughts. My girlfriend had left me about a week ago, and I felt like my life wasn't going anywhere. Taking these drugs wasn't getting anything done. Sure, it was fun, but it was pointless. Was life itself pointless? Is my existence pointless? These thoughts began to take over my mind, and they soon descended into paranoid, suicidal delusions. The uncomfortable feeling was now becoming one of severe panic. I grew sick to my stomach. I felt nauseous. As these thoughts occupied my mind, Thor began to play psytrance, and this set me over the edge. I needed to get out of that living room. I rushed upstairs to the bathroom. Unfortunately, I had gotten up too fast, and I was having a terrible head rush. My vision became grainy and resembled static. An ordered static, however, one that seemed to be composed of fractals and Persian carpets.

When I closed and locked the bathroom door and sat down, the head rush still left my vision fuzzy and diminished. I was dizzy, and suddenly felt exhausted. My breathing grew heavy, and my heart rate intensified. Despite sitting, the head rush was getting worse. If I had retained my composure, I would have laid down on the floor and lifted my legs against the wall to return blood circulation to my head - unfortunately, I was distracted by the thoughts of suicide. The dizziness and loss of vision was getting worse. Eventually, I couldn't see anything but fractals, colorful patterns, and swirling images. The visuals weren't just a filter over the world around me anymore. It was all I could see - like I had my eyes glued onto a computer screen, with a crazy, ever-intensifying music visualizer on it. I couldn't see the bathroom anymore. I was blind, and these crazy fucking visuals had taken over my eyesight.

In a panic, I sheepishly tried to stand up. It only made it worse. I began to pass out, and I collapsed to the floor. I banged my head and lower back into the floor. I painfully opened my eyes as I lay on the cold tile, not to the sight of a suburban bathroom, but instead to the same thing I saw with my eyes closed: a maddeningly vivid display of violently contorting fractals and furiously swirling patterns. The visuals themselves seemed to be angry. I curled up on the floor and tried to fight off the now-terrifying psychedelic visuals, the horrible stomach-ache I had, and the thoughts of killing myself. The suicidal thoughts were getting worse and worse. I wanted to die. I considered banging my head into the wall repeatedly until I crushed my skull. I wanted to grab the razor that I knew was in Aquatic's shower to cut my wrists open and with luck, I would blissfully bleed to death. But my inability to see would render attempts at suicide nearly impossible.

I lay on the floor hugging my knees, weeping, praying for death. Reality was nothing but a distant memory at this point. I thought that I would never return to it. This psychedelic, psilocin-induced madness had completely taken over. I had a few, fleeting moments where the thought occurred to me that this insanity would soon end, but they were quickly overcome by an ever-intensifying desire to kill myself. I wouldn't have to deal with this terrifying experience anymore. I wouldn't have to deal with life itself. It seemed like such a wonderful release, such a blissful escape to peaceful serenity for the rest of eternity. I was so tempted to do it.

Soon, my vision began to return. It was faded and grainy, but at least the visuals had receded a bit. I was still terrified out of my mind, but I remembered that my body was in pain. Strange, I thought, that I could feel physical pain again. I began to regain some cognitive thought, and picked myself up from the floor. I sat down on the toilet and had the runs. But as soon as that was over, my vision returned to normal, and my insides were no longer burning. I was terribly sweaty. My hair was damp. Surprisingly, I wasn't bleeding from anywhere, and had no visible bruises. I cleaned myself up and gazed at myself in the mirror. Had I really been considering suicide so deeply? Why would I have ever wanted to kill myself, I thought? Well, it was thanks to those damned mushrooms.

I washed my hands and my face, and returned downstairs. Nobody had wondered where I had went. Nobody had heard me crash to the floor. Nobody said a word. The visuals were gone. The paranoia and suicidal thoughts were gone, too. The trip was over. I felt brain-dead.

The Painter returned shortly after that with food. Delicious, delicious tacos. BFG returned from his nap and came and joined us, too. We sat outside and ate them happily, while sharing conversation and music. I didn't say much, as the trip had left me mostly brain-dead and I was enjoying the beauty of being off the mushrooms too much. I drank a lot of water and soda, too. The feeling of recovering was amazing.

After we had finished our lunch, Thor, Tazer, Pud, Sweaty, and BFG returned inside. The Painter and I listened to more progressive house and walked around the backyard for a bit. He suggested we smoke some salvia together, and I obliged. It'd be the first time I'd ever smoked salvia, too. It was quite a weekend - many boundaries were passed, many new drugs were taken.

We packed the salvia, and I had the first hit. Within moments, I began to see visuals. Not as intense as the visuals from the mushrooms, but I enjoyed the fact that it was mild. I didn't want to trip very hard - not after what had just happened to me in that bathroom. The most noticeable effect it had was a very heavy body high, which made me feel as though I were sinking into the couch I was sitting in. The salvia was pretty weak, but the Painter and I had a good time anyway. Afterwards, we returned inside and watched television again. Pud suggested going for a walk, and everyone declined, but I decided to join him. We returned to the backyard again.

I don't recall exactly why, but for whatever reason, we walked around the side of the house and sat down by the grass. We sat and talked about nothing in particular, just enjoying being outside in the sun. Some insects caught our attention, and we watched a roly poly skitter around on the concrete. After some time passed, we realized that we were staring at bugs, and laughed at ourselves. We returned to the patio and invited the others to join us in packing another bowl of weed.

We sat in the now-familiar patio again, in our couches and bundled in our blankets, passing the bong around. I sat next to Sweaty, which actually was not unpleasant. He really isn't sweaty unless he dances, so he didn't smell or anything. We sat under the same blanket, which was pink and fuzzy, resembling the insulation one might find inside the walls of a suburban home in Southern California. We noticed an aphid on it, and stared at it intensely. For whatever reason, insects became very interesting to look at while we were under the influence of this assortment of substances.

Some time later, The Painter and Thor had to leave. I felt sad that the Painter had to leave for good this time, but I wasn't as broken up about it as I had been earlier. It was just Pud, Sweaty, BFG, Tazer, and I left at this point. Pud and BFG laid about in the living room, watching some stupid movie about werewolves and vampires, something I couldn't possibly fathom doing while on shrooms. I don't know where Tazer had gone. Sweaty and I ventured outside, and sat by the pond. Somehow, the pond didn't seem so magnificent anymore. The pond, which we had compared to primordial soup before, was now, in Sweaty's words, "nothing but a pool of shit." I returned inside, and Tazer joined Sweaty outside. I sat down with BFG and Pud, who were now comatose on the couches, and began to doze a bit myself.

Aquatic returned after some time. After he returned, it was pretty uneventful. It was late evening at this point, and we all had to return home. We cleaned up Aquatic's house, and spent a while at Pud's home. We ate delicious, delicious poptarts, accompanied by milk and That 70's Show on television. Sweaty, Tazer, BFG, and I went to sit outside for a bit to look at the stars. Pud stayed inside and slept on the couch. I returned home a short while later.

It had been over 36 hours since Friday morning. I had only slept for a maximum of three hours during that time. I don't think I ate or drank enough to properly sustain myself for that time, either. I had taken a myriad of drugs, including LSD, marijuana, psilocybin mushrooms, and salvia divinorum. By the end of Saturday evening, I was absolutely exhausted. It had been an incredible, awe-inspiring weekend, despite the bad trip on shrooms. Overall, I had a good time. I bonded with my friends a lot. I enjoyed the psychedelics for the most part. Saturday was a nice, relaxing day, a stark contrast from the energetic night previous at the rave.

If I've learned one thing from this, it's this: use hallucinogens, especially psychedelics, wisely. You don't control the psychedelics, they control you. If you choose to use them, you must exercise caution with them, [I]especially[/I] with mid to high doses. All in all, however, I don't think I'll ever take magic mushrooms again. My experience in the bathroom on Saturday is not something that I'd like to repeat again. I'm not willing to take the risk of that again. But looking back on it, the experience was worth it. Your first bad trip is almost like your first car wreck - it's almost inevitable that it will happen at one point or another. If you walk away from it stronger than you were before, all the more power to you. I think I'm stronger for having experienced it.

Since that weekend, I've garnered a much deeper appreciation for life. Not just for my own life, but for life in general. I can't even bring myself to kill a bug anymore - I have to capture it and escort it back to nature. I don't find myself getting bored anymore, either - even if I'm just sitting there listening to music with nothing to do, I manage to enjoy the time, because I know that I'm alive.

The world of psychedelics is a crazy one indeed.

[Hamushka11]

No time to read it, but I know it's an amazing story. Bookmarked for when I get home. Have a winner

[Stormcharger]

[QUOTE=Hamushka11;28471464]No time to read it, but I know it's an amazing story. Bookmarked for when I get home. Have a winner[/QUOTE]

you better read it, its epic.

[Infinity]

This took too much fucking effort for a dd thread!!!

[Intenso]

[QUOTE=Infinity;28471680]This took too much fucking effort for a dd thread!!![/QUOTE]
deal w/ it

[Infinity]

I'm also incredibly surprised you could remember it to such fruition.

(btw, i'm not stoned, but i'm coming down from a bowl of 40x)

[Intenso]

I could have talked about more things, like the voices that I heard when I was on acid and later shrooms, but I felt like the thread is long enough as it is

[rexxar]

am I the only person who actually read it all?

The rave scene is so fascinating! I wish I could do it, but I don't know of anywhere in England that wouldn't be full of sweaty violent aggressive chavs. My parents were in the rave scene and took soooo many drugs and their stories are definitely brilliant (even ones of bad trips).

my advice to you is this: a bad trip can occur with any drug. you shouldn't be dissuaded from ever trying mushrooms again, it could have as easily happened on your LSD.

I would love to rave with you though :v:

[Intenso]

Raving is a magical thing, it really is. I'm so glad that I became a raver. Some of the best times of my life have been spent raving. :v:

[rexxar]

every time I'm high I have raves to myself \:v:/

[InvalidUsername]

Best 20 minutes spent reading of my life. Thank you OP. Thank you.

[MoarFunz]

[img]http://i72.photobucket.com/albums/i170/potsm_master/Sugar%20with%20Caffeine%20March%204th/189702_185598391481204_100000931338285_385161_7529992_n.jpg[/img]

what is this

[editline]8th March 2011[/editline]

on the left, blue

:derp:

[Ronin]

It's a woman with short spiked hair.

Or am I missing something?

[spamsuger]

[quote=banned user;28480135]it's a woman with short spiked hair.

Or am i missing something?[/quote]

shes ugly hurr durr lets make a point out of that yeahhhhhhhh

[editline]7th March 2011[/editline]

super cool

[Bftony]

Quick moving lights, fuck around with shutter timing on your camera, voila... crazy light effects.

[Intenso]

[QUOTE=Bftony;28480496]Quick moving lights, fuck around with shutter timing on your camera, voila... crazy light effects.[/QUOTE]
it rather mimics what it would look like to you when you're on ecstasy, acid, or some other substance

lights leave trails and afterimages and it kinda looks like that to you at the time

[editline]7th March 2011[/editline]

and yes, that's a woman with short spiked hair

i know her personally, she's a professional masseuse, and an awesome person

oh and she likes girls

[CjienX]

I honestly only read this because of your avatar

[Intenso]

she really isn't that bad looking, it's just a bad picture in all honesty

[img_thumb]http://a5.sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc6/180071_1718679359210_1005030508_1818355_3000297_n.jpg[/img_thumb]

[editline]7th March 2011[/editline]

goddamnit spider jerusalem quit breaking mah automerge

[Poo Monst3r]

Wow. Just. Wow.
I'm in awe of this story.
I know exactly how you were feeling on mushrooms - that shit can fuck our mind and shit it out in a completely tattered and bruised state. It hurts, but it's worth it. It's like a work-out for your brain. Where-as sometimes you work out your muscles, and it leaves them sore and weak, mushrooms so the same thing, but for your brain, mind, and soul. It really is a hell of a drug, but in the end, you come out stronger and more aware from it - just as your muscles would grow and strengthen.
But really, excellent writing, excellent flow, and an excellent fucking story.
I'm happy you lived to write about it.

[Creesco]

Aw you kandi kids look so cute. lol I remember when I first started to rave, those were magical times. Glad ya had fun.

[NeoSeeker]

actually mushrooms were a pretty traumatic experience for me.

while the first hours were fun i cried violently the entire come down and two times ended up waking up in the shower with it running furiously cold water early in the morning.

needless to say if you're going to trip on anything it's a good idea to bring along a heafty dose of some strong downers and a decent dose of an atypical anti psychotic

[bigdan]

[QUOTE=Furioso;28471431] It had a metallic taste, and numbed the spot on my tongue where the drop fell. It felt as though it were sizzling in my mouth.[/QUOTE]

That does not sound right.

Anyway, i've found anyway, when you start to think negatively its best to just say it out loud so everyone else can hear it, it seems for me anyway that when i say a negative thought out loud when tripping it removes it from my head and get to hear what other people say because if your friends know what they are doing they should be able to snap you out of it.

[aperoll]

God damn that was good, it was like artwork. You're extremely articulate.

[DICKFLIPMC60]

this guys my nig

[Intenso]

[QUOTE=TJCTakSUn;28494625]God damn that was good, it was like artwork. You're extremely articulate.[/QUOTE]
My buddies and I have been talking about co-authoring a book, involving a collection of stories about our experiences with drugs and raves. There always seems to be a collection of beauty, euphoria, awe, and suspense every time we trip.

In fact, someone was shot and killed at the last rave I'd gone to before the one in this thread. Poor bastard was shot over a stupid fight, and the guy emptied his magazine into the crowd after fatally shooting his target. Aquatic, the guy whose house I spent the weekend at, almost took a round himself, with a bullet smacking the wall just a few feet away from him and showering him with plaster dust. Violent things seemed to be centered around him for some reason.

While everyone was being ushered out the door, six at a time, our friend Sweaty was stopped by a security guard as Aquatic and Tazer were the last in a group of six led outside. Sweaty, who was under the influence of acid, 2C-E, and ecstasy at the time, freaked the[I] fuck[/I] out and started trying to scramble over the top of the now [I]group[/I] of security guards while screaming, "NO! THOSE ARE MY FRIENDS! THOSE ARE MY FRIEEENDS!" It was like watching a scene from Schindler's List, as Nazi guards split a family of Jews apart. The fact that aquatic was playing along and reaching his hand out at him while walking outside completed it. :v:

Apparently, one of the guards said, "Son, I can only[I] imagine[/I] how fucked up you are, but you [I]have[/I] to calm down!"

[editline]8th March 2011[/editline]

Nothing sobers you up quite like seeing someone get murdered and then having police officers scramble around you while you're peaking on a psychedelic. :v:

[kafurie]

dude your group and mine should go smaking at a rave u and ur friends seem really chill like us but the only problem is that we are near sf

[Intenso]

We actually get ravers down here from everywhere - San Fran, Los Angeles, San Diego... one of the companies that hosts raves around here, Sugar, is actually based out of San Diego. We get a lot of out-of-town DJs here, too, from all those cities and more. The rave scene in Bakersfield is really blossoming.

[0rz]

i <3 the crowd in bako

[HyoMonkys]

That sounds amazing, it made think of the good times I had over the summer with weed.
Man gotta miss driving around on warm summer days passin' a joint or two back and forth between you and your best friend.

[Motherfucker]

[QUOTE=Furioso;28500841]Apparently, one of the guards said, "[B]Son, I can only[I] imagine[/I] how fucked up you are, but you [I]have[/I] to calm down![/B]"[/QUOTE]

[img]http://www.glogster.com/media/4/14/32/99/14329935.jpg[/img]