This is my first post here and it's going to be about the remarkable nightmare trip I had last week. I'm a newbie to mushroom cultivation and I've learned everything I know so far thanks to the Shroomery. This website and all the people behind it are incredible. I'm forever grateful!
I've deemed necessary to include in this trip report a few paragraphs
of background information, otherwise it would be impossible for the
reader to understand why I took such a monstrous dose.
- I learned the hard way not to underestimate the power of seemingly weak mushrooms by irresponsibly taking a huge dose of them. It
didn't even cross my mind for a moment that those mushrooms came from a
multi-spore syringe, thus making genetics unpredictable, so it's highly
probable that a few potent fuckers might have been hidden in the lot
(don't worry now, you will understand all this later on).
- I let
my enthusiasm for mushroom cultivation blind me to the point of making
the irresponsible decision of growing at my parents' home and I deeply
regret that. I would never encourage anyone to grow at their parents'
home and I hope my story will serve as a warning to deter young people
from doing that.
- It was brought home to me the importance of
being accompanied by a sober sitter, especially when you are going to
take a "kamikaze" dose.
- The fact that my experience with
psychedelics is almost nonexistent coupled with the high dose I took, made me panic and seek help from medical professionals. That is not to say that I really think that being hospitalized under the influence of shrooms is a good idea. As
a matter of fact, it is the worst thing one can do, because it can
potentially make worse an already bad trip and you will most likely be
given tranquilizers which will fuck with your trip big time and send you
straight to Limbo. No doctor can do anything to make you stop
tripping and most members of the medical profession don't know jack
about psychedelics. As far as I know, there aren't reported cases yet
of psilocybin overdose, but next time I will leave the heroic doses for
heroic people, thank you very much.
- I know I did everything
wrong from start to finish so I don't need to be reminded of that... I
did learn my lesson. I invite you to take my report with a pinch of
humor, there's plenty of negativity in the world already!
- English is not my mother tongue, so I apologize in advance for any grammatical errors or awkward constructions.
we get started, I think it is important to first put things into
context and explain how I started to dabble in this hobby. Ten years ago I did mushrooms twice and it was an incredible experience. I've
always been a truth-seeker and those two experiences opened me up to
the power and potential that psychedelic mushrooms have to make us see
ourselves and the world around us in a whole new light.
was only recently (4 months back) that I started to read up on how to
actually cultivate them, nothing really serious, just out of curiosity. I
gradually became more and more interested until eventually I just fell
in love with the beguiling beauty of mushroom cultivation. There came a point when I just couldn't resist the desire to grow them myself. I
was so excited about it that I just wouldn't heed that little voice of
reason in my head telling me how stupid it would be to grow at my
parents' home. Instead, I took it as a challenging adventure. It
never crossed my mind to just start things nice and small... I was going
to grow like a pro!
So I spent quite some time and energy
devising what was to become the stealthiest mushroom cultivation project
ever contrived by a dumbfuck like me!
I was to grow in my
basement inside a wardrobe with a lock. This being by far my best
option, since my basement is a kind of out-of-bounds area for everyone
at home and we only use it to store all things that we no longer need
but can't bring ourselves to get rid of. It goes without saying that
the basement is a real pigpen! It is the only place at home that we
never clean or tidy up. Thank god that I have the Shroomery to teach me
proper sterile technique!
After a lot of reading on mushroom
cultivation, I mistakenly thought that I was already prepared to buy all
the materials and equipment required to start growing. And so, on
impulse, I ordered in one fell swoop all the materials I thought I would
need from an online grow shop and in local stores. I shelled out
roughly 700 euros only to discover days later that I could have spent
half that money on an even better setup! Most things I bought were
just useless and I felt like I'd just thrown that hard-earned money down
the toilet... it was depressing indeed. Not to mention the bad quality
items that I got from that online grow shop, a downright rip-off!
let me add here a word of advice for all impulsive and overly eager
newbies like me (if there are any) out there: Never do like I did! And
beware of buying things that you can't see in person! Read more! The
more time you devote to expanding your knowledge about the different
techniques (not only the ones that you may think suit you best) the more
money and time you will save in the future. I've learned that simplicity is the way to go about this hobby and that is just beautiful. If I could go back in time I would do things the right way and I'd be less broke!
After a month of setting all up I was ready to grow. For
the record, I used a SGFC (I had to build it after sadly discovering
that the PMP setup I had ordered online was just crap, and my poor
shrooms would inevitably suffocate for lack of FAE and grow room). I
work out in my basement, so in order for me to safely mist and fan my
shrooms several times a day without arousing anyone's suspicion I had to
fabricate an excuse, so I told my parents in passing that I had changed
my workout routine and that instead of doing one long workout session a
day I was going to do several shorter ones throughout the day from then
on. They swallowed it.
I inoculated my rye grains with the B
syringe I ordered online, mixed the colonized jars into two different
trays with a hpoo/verm/gypsum substrate and finally cased (50/50 casing)
hoping with trepidation for the best. All the mushroom cultivation
process, sterile technique and sterilization with pc (I use a camping
gas stove) were done in my basement taking advantage of those moments
when I was alone at home and at night when everybody was asleep. For
good or bad, I currently have an awful lot of free time and could do
this (not anymore as you shall see...)
The first flush gave me a
fairly good yield to my heart's content. So I made some spore prints
using my glove box (gosh I enjoyed it!) and took some live tissue for
cloning from the nicest looking shrooms, and then, with a pang of
something akin to sadness, I put all these fresh beauties in the food
dehydrator to dry and shrivel.
When the shroomies were cracker
dry I proceeded to ingest 3 grams with no noticeable effects apart from a
light buzz and some almost imperceptible visual distortions which
lasted less than one hour.
I know from my experience with shrooms
in the past that I don't have a natural tolerance to psilocybin at all.
I remember that I had been tripping balls after only ingesting one
average-sized dried mushroom. So I assumed that my first harvest had
turned out to be a dud, as it tends to happen with the B strain.
next day (yes, I know I should have waited longer) I decided to try 6
grams but I didn't trip at all! I was terribly disappointed after all
the hard work and money I had invested in the project.
week I was already resigned to the fact that the 65 grams of dried
mushrooms I had stashed in my room were useless. I was angry and
frustrated but I couldn't bring myself to dump them, so instead I decided to make a brew with the 65 grams. I
did two extractions adding a generous dash of white vinegar both times
(as I understand, this helps with the alkaloid extraction). First I
brought the acidic water to a boil, turned off the stove and then added
the mushrooms which I had previously ground into a powder. I let it
steep and stirred almost constantly for 20 minutes (40 minutes in
total). Finally, I strained and disposed of the mushroom material and I
was left with 0,7 liters of foul-smelling, disgusting-looking
concoction. I didn't want to reduce the brew because I was afraid of destroying the alkaloids by doing so.
Friday, December 4th, 2015.
I'm in my room, my folks fast asleep, staring with a sense of impending
doom at the disgusting and humongous brew I have in front of me. I
brace myself and proceed to take a big gulp immediately chased by water
and a teaspoon of honey to mask the horrible taste. Repeat two more
times. It was done! and I ain't expecting no trip, poor lil' me how very
wrong I am...
I'm playing chess online
while I'm waiting for something to happen. The fisrt thing I notice is
that I begin to play chess in a reckless way and strange tactical ideas
come to my mind which funnily enough turn out to be sound. 3:13 A.M.
chess pieces come alive! They start to bend and morph into strange
shapes and I can't keep playing because my mind is not thinking
straight. I go to Youtube and find a podcast video where a young
woman and a hippie-looking guy are talking on Skype about psilocybin
mushrooms. At this point I know for sure that I'm in for a hell of a
trip, because the come-up is seriously strong and only 5 minutes have
passed since the shrooms started to kick in. When the woman talks, I
see incredible geometrical figures all around her in a kind of floral
motif. She looks "geometrically" beautiful if you catch my drift. After
5 minutes, it is the guy's turn to talk. By this time all the visuals
are still very geometrical in nature but a hell of a lot stronger. All
of a sudden, I notice that the guy's speech starts to dramatically slow
down, as though he is just slurring his words, but eventually he seems
to revert to normal speed again. Then, something happens that freaks
the hell out of me. The guy seems to be repeating three times every
sentence he says! I make a mental note to check the same video the next
day because I can't quite believe that I'm having this incredible
auditory hallucination. By the way, I did check the video the next day, and all was perfectly normal.
3:25 A.M. (approximately)
I can't help but freak out at the thought of what this trip holds in store for me. This is only the onset! The
body load is almost unbearable so I decide to shut down the pc, lie
down in bed with my eyes closed and try to have an introspective trip,
but I feel like I'm duct-taped to a rocket ship and it soon becomes
clear that I can't possibly steer the trip away from its increasingly
scarier course. I am trying to breathe deeply and evenly but it is very
difficult to do so as the very fabric of reality and consciousness is
shifting, warping and tearing all around me. The CEV's are really intense and I feel that I am in another dimension, peeking through the matrix from the other side. I
open my eyes and take a look at my room. The best way to describe how I
feel is using the analogy of a ghost, condemned to eternally wander
among the living, seeing the world from a place where time does not
exist. All things appear ethereal and I start to think that I've really
died and become a ghost. ?:?? A.M. (from now on, I just lose track of time)
go to the bathroom, kneel in front of the toilet bowl and start to
force vomit. After this I feel a tiny bit more grounded. Can ghosts puke
their guts out? Maybe I'm not a ghost after all, what a reassuring
thought! I stand up to take a look at myself in the mirror. In the
reflection I still see everything as if I was wearing "ghost's goggles".
The only thing I can see clearly and in "high definition" are my eyes. As
I'm looking in the mirror, everything starts spinning and swirling, but
the reflection of my eyes remains sharp and clear. Try as I may, I
can't break eye contact with the reflection of my own eyes. I feel an
ancient presence, still and eternal, that is looking at me through my
own eyes and I can't dispel the feeling that I'm just about to be
possessed by a demonic entity (even though I'm not a religious person at
all). I start to panic because I can't move a muscle. I'm glued to
the spot under that piercing, unfathomable stare. I'm losing all touch
with reality, my sanity shatters to smithereens. It seems as if I've
been in front of the mirror for an eternity. I want to scream for help
but I can't even open my mouth. I try to concentrate all my energy into
this task. With a huge effort my lips start to part very slowly and
finally I am able to produce a barely audible grunt in the depths of my
throat. I keep trying to scream for what seems an eternity, until at
long last I manage to scream at the top of my lungs. Hopefully my father
will hear me and come to my rescue. It is a measure of the gravity of my ordeal that I actually want my father to come and help me, never mind exposing my secret.
think I hear the door of my father's bedroom open violently as I am
still screaming. My father opens the bathroom door and he is just
terrified (imagine being woken up in the middle of the night by your son
screaming). He starts asking me what is going on but I'm still glued to the spot looking in the mirror, unable to utter a single word. He grabs my arm and keeps frantically trying to elicit a response from me, to no avail. Eventually
he gaves my arm a good yank and I'm forced to turn on my heels, finally
breaking eye contact with the mirror, finally breaking the spell.
huge weight seems to have lifted from my shoulders and now that I am
able to move again I look at my father straight in the eye. Since I am unable to speak, I just stand there looking at my father, trying to convey with my eyes what is happening. I
sense my father's soul through his eyes, everything else is warping but
not his eyes. I feel how worried he is and I also perceive the huge
love that he has for me. I am overwhelmed and profoundly moved by this
and I am more relaxed now.
My father keeps asking and asking,
until with a huge effort I manage to speak the words "Hospital...
Hongos..." which means hospital and fungi in Spanish, although with
hindsight, I should have said "setas" which means mushrooms.
that my father is in a state of paralyzing confusion and doesn't
understand, I decide to grab his arm and walk him downstairs to the
basement while he constantly asks me where I am taking him and what I
So now we are in the basement, in front of the wardrobe
that I've converted into what must look like a small lab for the
inexperienced eye. But the door is closed and in my state I cannot
remember where I left the keys.
As I am thinking of just hacking
the door down I suddenly remember where the keys are. I give my father
the keys and signal him to open the door. What he finds there leaves him utterly dumbstruck and I can see in his face that understanding is finally dawning on him. "Hospital... Hongos" I keep saying. Without
a word my father rushes upstairs to his bedroom (I didn't know why he
did that at that moment but the next day he told me that he was taking
off his pajamas and putting on some clothes to rush me to the hospital).
I wait in the front door for him but I don't know what he's doing or why it's taking him so long. While
I'm waiting I'm reminded of the first movie of "The Lord of the Rings"
series, after Frodo is stabbed by a Morgul-blade, threatening to turn
Frodo into a wraith as he enters the "Wraith-world". So I think; "I
relate to you, Frodo. Now I understand your plight, be strong mate!". Unfortunately,
I wasn't going to be helped by elves but by a hospital staff who
doesn't even know what a psilocybin mushroom is, as we shall see later
How long does it take a person to take off their pajamas and
put on some clothes? A couple of minutes? Well, in my state it seems an
eternity and I can't wait for my father any longer. So I make the "wise"
decision to run to the hospital with my slippers on. I leave the
house without my father knowing and start to run as fast as I can. The
hospital is very near my house, no more than 400 meters away. My
slippers are preventing me from running as fast as I can so I ditch them
and start running to the hospital with only my socks on. I run for
dear life, much faster than never before in my life, as though I'm being
fuelled not only by fear but also by the uncanny power that so often
mushrooms seem to bestow upon the user, making us capable of feats we
wouldn't even dream of in our everyday lives.
When I enter the
hospital the only person I see is a middle-aged nurse receptionist who's
dozing in her chair behind the counter... I kid you not. "Hongos, hongos!" I yell. She wakes up with a start. As she asks me what is the problem the only thing I can say is "hongos". Another
nurse comes in carrying a wheelchair for me to sit on and she too
starts asking me questions that I can't answer. The only thing I do is
stare at her, feeling impotent and helpless at not being able to
Luckily, my father enters the hospital at that
moment and he's holding in his hands one of my trays which is full of
little second-flush shrooms sprouting everywhere (it melts my heart how
cute they are). Incredibly enough, it seems that my father has
successfully resisted the temptation to eat them. That's a will of steel
After my father answers all the red-tape stuff and
gives the nurse the tray for examination, I'm rushed to another room
where a doctor makes me go through a quick battery of medical tests. From
there I am taken to one of the hospital's wards which was to become the
final destination where later on I will experience death, purgatory,
loops of insanity, moments of eternity, rebirth, epiphanies about the
paradox of existence and that we are all one. Everything was so painful,
horrifying and beautiful at the same time.
At home, the trip was just taking off and it was in the hospital when things started to get seriously messed up. I
know it will sound trite, but what I experienced was beyond the kingdom
of words and many important details are going to be left out. I will
try and do my best.
They leave me in a ward where there are a lot
of patients lying down quietly in their beds and it seems that I've
become the main attraction for the staff members in that area on an
otherwise quiet night. I am surrounded by a lot of doctors and nurses, most of them seem to just be mere spectators.
They connect me to machines to keep track of my vital signs. A nurse approaches me with an intravenous needle to put me on a drip but I refuse point-blank. After
a few minutes, two doctors aproach me surreptitiously from both sides
and taking advantage that I have my eyes closed, they tie me up to my
bed, first my arms and then my ankles. I shout a couple of nasty things in English at them and after that they finally put me on a drip.
next day I learned that they administered me with "Benzodiazepine"
which is a class of psychoactive drug similar to Valium. This drug and
being tied to my bed, noticeably increased the negative aspects of my
trip, rendering me helpless both physically and mentally.
will try to describe the indescribable. I lack the experience to say
whether it was ego-death, although I don't think it was. All I know is
that I died, but contrary to real death, I hadn't severed all contact
with this reality and that was really painful because it lacks the
liberation that real death is supposed to provide. I was trapped
between two worlds and I could clearly see through the illusion of the
self and this reality. It was a mind-shattering experience I wasn't yet
prepared to endure. I felt that I was no longer human and I wasn't
thinking as such. I was just a beacon of consciousness in the vast ocean
of vibrant awareness this universe is engulfed by.
For lack of a better word, I will use this term to describe this harrowing experience. I was subjected to excruciating pain; mentally, phsysically, emotionally and spiritually. A
doctor told my father that my heart rate had reached 165 bpm at some
point and I am positive that that happened during this experience. The concept of time was meaningless and there was only suffering. I
became convinced that by a mysterious quirk of the laws of the universe
I had been trapped for eternity in a sort of existential singularity, a
paradoxical realm of pure horror. The pain was constantly changing from one form to another and there was no escaping it. It wasn't a physical, mental, emotional or spiritual pain; it felt like a fusion of them all. I remember trying to focus or hold on to anything: memories, places, people, sensations, feelings, names... I
longed for my everyday existence, being mundane again and leave this
hellish place, but even these thoughts and desires slipped away.
Everything slipped away. I felt exiled from all that I knew. I felt homeless, timeless, nameless, bodyless. There was no point of reference.
It was certainly the worst experience of my life.
LOOPS OF INSANITY
Ever so slowly the experience I've called "purgatory" began to recede into a distressing but less taxing experience. I was yet again trapped, but this time in a seemingly endless loop of insanity. I was experiencing the paradox of existence and why I cannot cease to exist. It
was very circular in nature, starting at one point and ending with an
"eureka moment" followed by me saying out loud a long "aahhhhh!" and
then everything would start all over again. I remember that I could
hear some nurses imitating me in a good-natured way right after each and
every of my "ahhhhh!'s". They were having a blast! lol
My "loops of insanity" started to gather speed. It was really frightening. My human mind is not designed to grasp the truth about the paradox of existence and it was too much to bear. I
felt as if every atom in my body was imploding. Actually, I felt that I
was the universe imploding until I became a minuscule speck of infinite
energy. I was really expecting a Big-Bang, but instead I felt as if I
was coming out into the world from my mother's womb again. It was
painful, horribly painful. I regained consciousness after this and I found myself bawling like a little baby. Several
nurses were at my side. My torso and arms were completely covered in a
black substance and one of the nurses was cleaning me with a gauze. Hours
later I learned that a doctor, seeing that I had lost consciousness and
was convulsing a little, had introduced plastic tubing in my nasal
passage in order to admister me with "activated carbon" (a substance
that is used to treat poisonings and overdoses following oral ingestion)
and that the black substance was the carbon that I had vomited.
felt very sedated at this point and sufficiently aware of my
surroundings to notice that I was still tied to my bed, hooked up to
machines and under my sheets I could see that I was only wearing a huge
hospital diaper that was soaked through with my own urine. I was fine with that, not ashamed in the least. The visuals had stopped but I was still tripping in a introspective way. I saw as clear as day that most humans in this planet are living a charade. We are trapped in the ego and we fail to realize that we are all part of same thing and come from the same source. It's easy to understand and conceptualize this, but to actually experience it is another thing altogether. I
also saw that this is totally necessary for the future betterment of
humanity. There can't be spiritual awakening without first coming from a
place of "unconsciousness". I understood that all the suffering and
evil in the world are also a necessary part of human spiritual
evolution. I think that a good way to explain it would be by using the
analogy of a diamond as a metaphor; in order for a beautiful diamond to
form, carbon must be subjected to extreme pressures and high tempetures. I
wish I could have kept seeing the world in this way, but I'm afraid
that I quickly reverted to my normal self and my old thinking patterns.
MY ARGUMENT WITH AN ILL-TEMPERED DOCTOR
It was already daytime and I wasn't tripping anymore. A new doctor came and sat down in front of a computer that was a few feet from my bed. I
was super-sensitive to the energies and vibes from all the people
around me and I could easily sense that this guy was a nasty piece of
work. I was feeling increasingly uncomfortable in my pee-drenched bed
and I desperately wanted to be untied from the bed and go home, but I
somehow knew that it was going to be a challenge to convince this guy
and there was nobody else with authority around.
"Sir, would you
be so kind to untie me? I remember that I had to be tied because in my
state I refused to be put on a drip but there's no need of that now. I'm
lucid now and feel rather uncomfortable." I said, using a very polite
tone. The guy looked at me as if I had stolen money from him and
said: "You're going to be tied until it is certain that you are not
going to relapse." "But sir, I've been through a hell of a time this
night and all I want is to go home and sleep it off. The effects of the
substance have already passed and there's no relapsing. This is not a
mental illness" I said. "You must abide by the rules and show some
respect" he said. "Are you implying that I'm being disrespectful?" I
said. "Yes, I do." he said. "Sir, I refuse to be kept tied up like an
animal. I'm an adult and I have the right to walk away from here if I so
choose to." I said. After this and without a word, the little prick
grabbed the phone and called in the hospital's security guards. When the
guards arrived, it was very easy for me to explain that they had been
called for nothing and they left as quickly as they came. "It's no
wonder your coworkers can't stand you" I said, using an affirmation,
because I just knew it. They guy pretended not to hear this and at the
same moment a young nurse that was overhearing the argument looked at
me, smiled and nodded, confirming that I was right. Fortunately, I was saved by the timely arrival of my parents. It
was funny to hear the guy's feeble attempts at trying to convince my
parents that I had been disrespectful. I just kept silent because I knew
that my parents would not believe him--they know me very well. It was easy for my parents to deal with the little prick and get me out of there.
My parents and I walked from the hospital to my house. I
was horribly ashamed and felt so guilty for having let them go through
all this (above all my father, because my mother didn't wake up after
the commotion in the bathroom--she sleeps like a log). I felt I owed
my parents more than a word of explanation and an apology, so I
explained to them how and why I started this mushroom cultivation spree
of mine and that I was never going to do it again. But that was just a
white lie because there's no doubt in my mind that I'm gonna grow 'em fuckers once I live alone, which is going to be very soon!!
My father even felt like joking around a little and called me "The New Walter White" (Breaking Bad series).
And that's it guys! Hope you enjoyed my report. Peace out!