I had already dipped my toes into the LSD sea during the first semester of my sophomore year in college. Strange, how I thought my first psychedelic tango would be with Mushrooms, seeing as they were "more natural" than LSD. I guess that made them seem to me as being less "hard core" or something. Anyway, I met LSD first, and I was about to say hello to Mushrooms for the first time (Spring Break of that year I believe).
I held the baggie in my hands as I sat in a slightly uncomfortable wooden chair in my friend's bedroom. The whole gang was there that night, about seven people, but I was the only one who would be tripping; no one else there, save two people, had ever tried nor had any interest in trying any kind of psychoactive. I wonder what they thought about me doing so...
I didn't like the taste. I didn't like the mouthfeel either. Every bite of Mushrooms I took was combined with some sour gummy worms to aid with their consumption. I thought it was very funny, and some of my friends were watching intently and asking questions and making comments about it. "You feel anything yet?" "Are you all 'wooooooo' yet?" "Watch out for those spiders all over you." One friend in particular continued to make that spider comment throughout the night in an attempt to jokingly freak me out. Luckily, I had a good head about me and new it was a joke. I don't think he understood how suggestions like that can actually mess with trippers.
By the time I was finishing the bag, I was already beginning to feel something happening---mind you, I spent about 30-40 minutes consuming this eighth of Mushrooms. After a little while longer, my friends said that they were going downstairs and outside for a bit, and asked if I was alright. I said yes, and I was alone in the room. Well, sort of. I really, really felt the trip coming on---a lot. It was stronger than I had been expecting, and certainly stronger than my prior experience with LSD (which, looking back now, was probably weak stuff). A thought entered my mind and lingered for a brief moment:
"This is a lot. This is too much. I can't do this."
But then I stopped, and I smiled, I let my body relax into this uncomfortable chair, and a forcefully gentle wave swept over me---swept me over. I was inside the trip, and it was amazing (I don't think that smile left my face for the rest of the night). I left the room and walked downstairs, slowly making my way into the living room. My friends were still outside. I headed for the backdoor to meet them, but then I thought I would do otherwise, for some reason. I instead sat down on one of two couches and closed my eyes. It was then that I saw a god.
Never had I seen visuals like this. The space was so deep, and I could feel it. And the colors occupied the entire spectrum, all interspersed with blackness, like the rainbow hues of oil on the surface of a puddle. In the distance was a massive being, and I was just a perspective---no body. This being was colored the same as all surrounding space, but it was somehow denser, and I could easily make it out. I moved toward it at super-fast speeds, weaving this way and that, circling around it in a wide orbit. I could tell that it was smiling, and I was smiling. I had never been so blissful in my entire life, and I knew that everything would be alright. I understood that all of my existence was of this being, that I was it and it was me, that my eyes are its eyes. I remember thinking that this revelation could be extremely frightening if I allowed it to be. "What, you mean this is it!? I'm this thing and it is me and that's all? That's everything!?" I chose not to feel that way. I was content.
I wished that it would go on longer, but my encounter with this god was ended abruptly as I opened my eyes, hearing my friends come inside. I must have been peaking at that point. They asked how I was doing. I attempted to explain my experience, but I couldn't really. Plus, my face hurt from smiling so much and I didn't want to talk too much. I just wanted to melt into that couch. It was like my entire being wanted to completely relax, so much so that I would sink into the very fabric of existence and disperse into the Sea of Everything, my particles drifting so far apart that I wouldn't be my self again for aeons. My body could only relax to a point, though.
Actually, I think I forgot that I had a body. It was while I watched my friend play Shadow of the Colossus. I became just a perspective until I moved my limbs. Also, I was chewing gum, and I distinctly remember having a strange experience involving the "huge amount of space" in my mouth. I think I must have shifted my awareness to a point on my tongue because I could almost "see" the gum in my mouth. It may have been due to an enhanced kinesthetic sense.
A little while later, I had shifted to the other of two couches, and I was still watching Shadow of the Colossus being played. I realized that reality is made up of many many layers of space and information (infospace?), and I could see and interpret separate layers simultaneously instead of seeing the one layer displayed by our brains. This became apparent after I experienced a shift in depth perception of the television screen. It was as if another dimension was added to the two dimensional display of pixels, which were currently organized into the video game. I could see "around corners" within the game to an extent.
I then, reluctantly, stood up from the couch and made my way to the bathroom to urinate. That was an interesting experience in itself, but I won't explain it here. When I returned, I stood on the first of two steps leading down into the living room and looked around. My vision was very kaleidoscopic, and anything that moved was leaving a trail. The multiple layers were still apparent. The thing that really got me though, was that it didn't feel like I had even left to use the bathroom. For some reason, my last memory of being in the living room was just as vivid as my current experience of being there, and it still felt like I was in the bathroom. At that point, I realized that Time is non-linear and exists simultaneously in all moments. I remember trying to explain that to a friend, but all I could say was, "Time is meaningless to me."
We were all there until 3:00AM, and that's when we got kicked out by my friend's dad. I was sitting in a sofa chair at that point, and I must have been laughing loudly or something because when his dad came into the living room, he pointed directly at me and said, "YOU, OUT." That kinda freaked me out a bit, but I silently laughed after he left the room, and my friends and I exchanged questioning expressions. I was coming down then, and I figured it would be safe for me to drive five minutes back to my house. I did, and slept.
This was one of the most beneficial experiences in my life to date. I wish I could remember everything, every thought I had, every conclusion I came to, but I cannot. I hope I have retained at least some accumulated wisdom from that night, and I hope to have an equally amazing experience sometime in the future, especially if I need it. Oh! I just remembered, one of the reasons that this experience was so amazing is that just two weeks (maybe a week) before, I was really, heavily questioning the nature of my reality. I remember pacing around my kitchen, alone, asking for answers. Almost in tears I asked for something to show me a sign---anything! Well, someone was listening.