First off, this is a little longer than I thought it was going to be, so I hope I’m not breaking any protocol by going into detail here. Secondly, I’m not 100% certain that this trip qualifies as a “level three” experience – it meets the criteria described in the guidelines for the trip reports, but I have a hard time categorizing something as amazing as what happened the other night. I have tripped a few times before, but by no means do I consider myself a veteran shroomer. Someday…
While I have tried growing my own cubensis with moderate success, on this occasion I’m sorry to say that I received my fungal enlightenment the uncool way – by paying for it. Having heard about the “amazing” shrooms that were circulating around town, my friends and I decided to spend some of that hard-earned student loan money on a few grams of those precious little babies. I think I’ve taken to the mushroom experience more than any of my friends have (though they enjoy it a lot, no question), and after we received our shrooms, I had to show a lot of restraint in waiting two whole days before ingesting. But I did, and I must say, it was worth the wait. The shrooms we received looked a little different than any I’ve seen in the past, with bumpy caps instead of smooth ones. My unqualified guess (based on the few pics I’ve seen and the fact that they originated from British Columbia) is that they were not the traditional ps. cubensis, but cyanescens instead.
But whatever, they all look the same when ground into dust and mixed with concentrated orange juice. The original plan was to ingest with my two roommates, but Dale backed out at the last minute because his girlfriend had just moved into a new apartment and commanded him to spend the night with her there. It wasn’t hard for Chris and I to find somebody to take his place, however. I called up another good friend of ours, a guy named Clinton who had first told me about these shrooms via a phone call whilst tripping heavily a few days before. Come to think of it, that’s probably why I was jonesing so hard over these shrooms – his call had been sort of a preview of what was to come. Clinton’s a lot more experienced with drugs than just about anybody else I know, and for him to recommend the experience so strongly was all the endorsement I needed. Kind of like that cool musician you know telling you what amp you should buy or something like that. So when the three of us were assembled and ready to feel the magic of the mushroom, I have to admit I was pretty excited.
These mushrooms actually tasted kind of bad, even with the OJ mixed in, and while Chris and I gulped ours down without much hesitation, Clinton (to my surprise) decided he didn’t want to finish his. Apparently, having tripped so heavily less than a week ago, the taste of the shrooms was making him a little sick – we guessed it was psychological, but in any case he could only finish a little more than half. I gladly drank his leftovers, so I guess I don’t know exactly how much I ate. I’m guessing somewhere around four grams, maybe a bit more. So we dimmed the lights, cranked Chris’ wonderful stereo system, and waited for the effects to kick in.
It didn’t take long. Within fifteen minutes I was feeling a little buzzed. I always start perspiring a little at the start of a shroom trip, I don’t know if that’s a normal reaction or not. Within half an hour of eating the mushrooms, I knew that this was going to be the best high I’ve ever had (so far). I went upstairs to my bedroom to grab a couple of my favorite druggy listening CDs, and I noticed the CDs in my shelf were moving (okay, fine, looked like they were moving). This was the very first visual hallucination I’ve ever had on a mushroom trip – normally, my trips have just been complete mind and body highs. They’ve been awesome, but it’s always felt like there was something missing. Not this time. When I got downstairs we sat around some more, shooting the proverbial shit a little and frequently asking one another how we were feeling. We all agreed that were getting pretty freaking high. The trip quickly started to enter “amazing” territory when I turned on our cool little turtle lamp – I highly recommend these little guys to anyone who wants some new drug décor. I think they’re available at Wal-Mart, though if you can buy them somewhere else I hope you do. We have ours set up on top of a speaker in the corner of the room, kind of nestled among some house plants, and while I’ve always been a big fan of our turtle, having him around while on shrooms was just excellent. It has a translucent colored shell with little spots all over it, and it casts a nice warm glow over everything in the room. Under shroom-enhanced night vision, it’s the perfect amount of light, and the colors and patterns it throws around are nice and trippy. With a Spiritualized album playing softly in the background, I was becoming fascinated with the movement of the light on the floor. I realized that I was seriously hallucinating – remember I’ve never had the pleasure before – as I watched symmetrical turtle shapes gliding gently across the carpet. That was weird enough, but when Clinton described exactly what I was seeing without any prompting, my mind was really blown. For the next while the three of us described our hallucinations to one another, and for the most part we were seeing exactly the same things. Patterns swirling on the carpet (for some reason, they looked like they were sort of hovering half an inch above the surface), a kaleidoscopic ceiling, spots moving and growing on the turtle’s shell… It was simply amazing. Even cooler was the fact that this trip had all the consciousness-expansion of previous trips, but with the added bonus of cool trippy visuals, which made the whole thing a lot more fun. I can’t remember most of the things I thought or said that night, at least not as clearly as the things I saw and did.
After spending between half an hour to an hour just enjoying the wackiness of it all and grooving to those Lazer Guided Melodies (highly, highly recommended as aural wallpaper for any trip), we decided to go outside for a while so Clinton could have a smoke. Out there it was a totally different trip – just as good, but in completely different ways. It was getting a little later, like nine o’clock or so, and it was already dark outside. It was a cloudy night, though, and with that mushroom vision in full effect, the sky was an eerie sort of luminescent gray from the reflection of the city lights. It was kind of windy outside, and a little cold, and with the sky lit up so strangely it literally felt like the end of the world, like the Apocalypse was nigh. We live in a nice quiet neighborhood with lots of trees and stuff, so sitting on the front step chatting and looking at our surroundings through reborn eyes was a lot of fun. I marveled at the size of it all, at how tiny and insignificant the three of us were compared to this little city, let alone the rest of the world, let alone the entire goddamn universe. A common realization, obviously, but I think I really felt it for the first time in my life. The notion wasn’t depressing in any way, however – I was just floored by the enormity of everything. There weren’t as many visuals outside, though the trees and grass felt more alive to me than usual, and occasionally the houses across the street would start to move closer to us. I remember telling them out loud to stay where they were. The idea of other people intruding on our space didn’t appeal to me very much. Looking at our own house from the outside, I realized what an artificial construct it was, how we had claimed this space as our own and formed a living space pretty much exactly to our liking, just like everyone else around us. Again, another obvious observation that really meant something to me for the first time.
After a while we decided to head back inside, and the turtle-aided trip continued in full force. I love our house. It’s so conducive to a nice relaxing trip. As soon as we were back inside, the hallucinations began again, easily as strong as before. I had read a long time ago (here at the Shroomery) that oranges were supposed to taste fantastic while high on mushrooms. In preparation for the trip, Dale (the poor soul who missed out in the name of love) and I had bought a few gorgeous oranges at a nearby store that sells only organic fruits and veggies. After consulting Chris and Clinton, I went and grabbed one for each of us to try. At first I wasn’t even interested in eating my orange, I was just fascinated by the texture and smell and look of it. We just sat there talking for a while longer, and I just held onto my orange while Chris and Clinton started to peel theirs. It looked to me like a lot of work (“It’s like you’re really earning it,” Chris said). It slowly dawned on me that these oranges were ALIVE, that they were living organisms as much as you or me. With that realization, I began to get rather grossed out watching Clinton mercilessly peel the skin off his orange and work his way to the tender guts inside. The guy is a semi-reformed high school bully, and his love of torture really seemed to come to the forefront as he ripped apart his orange. I think all three of us were aware of the oranges’ life essence, but we were all reacting to it in different ways. While Clinton was enjoying dismembering his orange and greedily consuming the sweet flesh inside, Chris was having trouble eating his, though he had already “killed” it. I couldn’t even bear the idea of breaking the skin of my orange, of hurting the helpless thing. In fact, I wanted to protect it from Clinton, who I’ll admit was frightening me a little bit. Please note that while all this is going on, I’m laughing my ass off at the weirdness of it all, even as I can’t deny how real it all feels to me. There was no way in hell I was going to let a guy like Clinton get his hands on my little orange. You know what it felt like to me? Like we were all primates acting out a scenario a million years old, with the mean, dominant alpha male intimidating the smaller, weaker monkey (i.e., me) into giving up his share of the hunt. It was hilarious to be feeling this way, but the feelings themselves were undeniably real. I could not get past the idea that this little orange had just as much right to life as I did. At least not until I realized that it was once part of a much larger organism (the tree), and now that it had been separated from the tree, it was destined to die soon whether I ate it or not. So with the appropriate amount of respect for my orange’s place in the circle of life, I dug my thumbs into it and tore it in half, the way it’s supposed to be done. Orange blood dripping down my hands, I bit into the juicy guts of it, and I have to admit it tasted pretty damn good. But I soon started to feel sort of sick, so I didn’t eat it all.
By the time this whole scenario was over, we had peaked, and we just sat around for another hour or so, orange blood all over my carpet and my skin, telling stories and listening to music and watching the ceiling and just chilling out. We went back outside, and it was raining, and the earth really felt to me like it was alive as well, breathing and drinking in and relishing the much-needed moisture. It was really nice. When we had come down a little bit (though my pupils were still incredibly dilated, so much so that Chris was grossed out by the sight of them), we went for a drive. That was cool, too, because my night vision allowed me to see details outside like it was day, even though it was almost midnight. I wanted to visit all my friends and tell them what an amazing trip we’d had, but we couldn’t contact anyone who wasn’t already sleeping. So we dropped Clinton off at home at went back to the lair. Chris was tired and went to sleep, but I knew I’d just be tossing and turning for at least another hour or so (I could still see the spots on our turtle’s shell move if I wanted to, and I was still rather high, even though it had been about six hours since we’d eaten our shrooms). So I sat up and listened to a Yo La Tengo CD and just relaxed.
Man, writing a trip report is hard. I can’t remember most of what made the trip so great – it’s the kind of stuff that just does not compute when my brain is in regular mode. But anyway, thanks for sticking with me if you did. I honestly believe that discovering magic mushrooms is one of the best things that has ever happened to me – it’s very nice to get out of your own head once in a while, and I always seem to come back re-energized, like my psychic batteries have been recharged. But I’ll never be able to look at an orange the same way. I don't know whether this trip was so good because of the amount of shrooms I ate or because of the fact that they were cyanescens (if indeed they were), but I can only hope that the fungus growing in my closet right now will be half as good. So peace, and if you happen to be here to discover whether psilocybin is for you or not, let me assure you that if you're smart and mature and caring and careful, and you have a few like-minded friends who also meet these criteria, then it most certainly is.