In high school, I discovered these things called mushrooms. I had experienced cannabis in its finest, quad-stacked ecstasy, cocaine, and oxy; but I had never experienced something as simple and novel as these little fungi. They quickly became my drug of choice. All it took was a little eating, and these wonderful things grown from the bosom of Nature herself took me places I never thought I would go. I had a friend in these endeavors, and we quickly became the best of trip buddies. For reference, I shall call him Floyd. After five solid trips, Floyd and I decided to take our tripping to the next level. He called in a favor one day, and before I could think we were looking at a half ounce of fucking SHROOMS. I had never seen mushrooms this big and scary before.
They averaged out to be nearly 2g per mushroom if you can believe that. They were crisp and dry, in every sense perfect. So then Floyd and I argued about the dose for a while. We were in a familiar place (my house, more specifically my theater) so we knew there would be no awkwardness associated with new terrain. We took in account our experience thus far (five trips, all of them 3.5g). After a long talk, we agreed to split them down the middle. That's a full 7g of the dankest mushrooms I had ever seen. Our stomachs were empty and growling with hunger. We made short work with my scale, and before long a tall glass of orange juice and a sizable pile of mushrooms were staring me down. I looked at Floyd. Floyd looked at me. We could feel the vibes in the room. This was to be epic. Fungi and OJ down the hatch, now we wait. I think everyone has their own little indicators of the trip coming on. For me it's the cartoon-ish colors and the body load. These little flags started fast for me. Really fast. 15 minutes fast. My head was filled with the rush of shrooms and my chest felt like it was coming apart, pure enjoyment. Floyd and I were just chillin at this point, he had put in The Wall so we were simply being and loving it. 35 minutes in the visuals began. Typical shrooms stuff, everything was becoming odd. Lol most people here know what I'm talking about. Everything was just a little....peculiar. The entire world was breathing with me, and my ceiling was flowing in a river toward the screen on the wall (theater remember). Colors were getting consistently more vivid. I look at the clock and realize it hasn't even been an hour, we are still coming up. I looked at Floyd, there was no color in his eyes. Only the black of his all seeing pupils. We both knew it, we were loosing it. By this time It was as if the entire world was thick oil paint and God himself had swiped a brush over the surface a bunch of times. I remember pulling my phone out and waving it patterns in front of my eyes so I could see the streaks it left. This is when it starts getting weird for me. Everything suddenly felt very wet. I had heard about this, but never experienced it. I started to obsessively wipe my hands on my jeans, thinking I had water everywhere. I don't know at all how much time was spent in the theater, with me trying to work my phone to tell people about what was happening to me. Floyd simply sat there and muttered about the patterns in my wall. I was able to make enough sense out of things to get Floyd off the couch, and get him ready to venture out of the room. After some effort, we are standing and ready to leave. I opened the door. Nothing was the same. I felt impish in my own home, engulfed by the tall ceilings. It was a little scary, we both stood there for a minute or two just breathing. Floyd looked at me and said "cigarettes". I knew that was our mission for the night. Adventure time lol. I had lost all sense of balance by now, so I stumbled instead of walked to the back door. We needed some cancer sticks and I was to be damned if we didn't get them. I had a hand on the door when I realized I had lost Floyd. This was downright frightening, because I was alone in a house I no longer knew. I summoned my courage. Upon a quick search of my downstairs, I found him. Sweet Jesus he had found my fish tank. Nothing had ever pleased me so much. We sat and watched the cartoon fish in their little box for an eternity. I can't described how they looked, but it kept us rooted for a time lol. I snapped back to reality for a second and started to laugh. Two high school seniors sitting cross-legged with their noses pressed against a fish tank, it was funny lol. Floyd started to giggle and I knew we had to get out of the room or suffer a crippling giggle attack. This time we both made it to the back door. Again we were breathless at what lay beyond. All my plants were wonderfully colorful in the moonlight and the stars were dancing in patterns. We worked our way to the front of my house. Standing in my driveway, a new level of existence struck us both. I believe this to be the peek of the trip. We both just sort of stood there like "seriously, What.The.Fuck". I had my first legit out of body experience. I could see me and Floyd standing there from fifteen feet up, and I could also see back in time to when we were sitting listening to The Wall. The feeling we both got was beyond all words. We could see ourselves in different realms of being, like we had five or six manifestations of us doing different things at once and I was all of them and none of them at the same time. My neighborhood had morphed into some foreign kingdom, and the stars would not stop dancing and melting into the horizon.
The next part of the story might garner some hate, and I would agree to claims that Floyd and I are not very bright. Despite this, I shall tell on.
We got in Floyd's car.
Yes, we wanted cigarettes, and we were fucked up beyond all belief. So we got in Floyd's car. We still had some sense left. As I struggled with my seat belt that seemed to be endless, Floyd turned to me and said "i don't know if I can do this". I replied "just try driving down the road". From my point of view he was drving fine. So we decided to go. What followed was the most intense and most odd ride I've ever been on. Floyd is brain-fucked beyond all imagination driving through what could've been the kingdom of Oz for all I knew, the windows are down, and all we want is cigarettes. The road was the most peculiar thing. Instead of laying nice and flat like asphalt should, it twisted and flipped through the terrain like a goddamn ribbon. I had no sense of direction, so to me it looked as if we were sitting still on a moving ribbon of black and yellow with stars melting into the horizon. The entire time the scenery didn't change. It was just us and the ribbon, I mean road =P. Floyd managed to get a CD in the deck, before I could prepare myself "Learning to Fly" is blaring through the car. It's my favorite song sober, so I cannot describe the emotions it brought to me on this many mushrooms. I was hanging out the window singing along with David Gilmour while flying through a land of dragons and wonder. After what felt like forever, we arrived at the gas station. It was here I noticed a few things. Floyd had just driven his car down a highway, and Floyd is more fucked up than me; I have no shirt; and we are now away from home. On shrooms. Whooooah, bad idea. We both sat in the car for a bit just staring at stuff. Nothing was still, things were pulsing like mad and I still had that odd oil paint visual. "Dude, go get some cigarettes" i said to Floyd. The last thing I expected him to do was get out of the car and walk toward the gas station. So now I was alone in this cramped vehicle, hence I decided to get out. We had pulled in right next to the grass, and the sprinklers had been on. So I stepped out into a puddle, which made me think I was stepping into the ocean. Suddenly the road is water and Im adrift on the hood of my friends car. And I don't have a shirt on which I never quite figured out. I assumed the fetal position and just kinda chilled for a while. I was alone at sea for all I knew. Then I remembered Floyd. Holy cow how long had he been inside? I sat up on his hood just in time to see him stumble out of the gas station. He walked over the water towards me and I managed to get back in his car. Whew, crisis averted. "Dude, how long did that take?" He asked me, for which I had no answer. I asked him what is was like. "All I could see was the attendants head floating in a swirling mist" he replied. "I think I said 'cigarettes' and I think I left a twenty on the counter" he said. I just wanted to get home now. Nothing eventful happened on the way back. So now we found ourselves in the driveway again. I then discovered something askew.
I had been viewing this insane car ride from the point of view I described earlier. We were in the driveway again. We were in the theater listening to the beginning of the Wall again. We were at the gas station again. I gave up trying to make sense of it. The rest of the night consisted of me laying in the dirt watching the clouds roll in smoking a never ending cigarette and watching the smoke play with the clouds and the melting, smiling stars. All the while I was on the hood of Floyd's car adrift at sea, and sitting in my theater, and hanging out the window of the car singing "Learning to Fly", and in my driveway, all the while thinking. What.The.FUCK. Floyd sat there for the rest of the night trying to figure out what had actually happened to us. The next morning, the only indication of our adventure was a pack of cigarettes minus two.
I still do shrooms at least once a week, but never that many. For days afterward I couldn't sleep right. I never give Floyd any shit about his driving. To this day we don't know exactly what happened. We both completely lost it, and I don't think I'll ever be the same.