It all started when my bf and I decided to each consume a quarter of some really nice, really visual mushies. When they kicked in, I was having the time of my life in my own little world. I saw the most amazing, intricate mandalas flowing and breathing across the ceiling. My sense of touch was heightened and I felt increasingly romantic and sexual. My bf, on the other hand, wasn't handling the dosage so well. He was having toruble breathing and was curled up in a fetus position on the bed. I grabbed a bottle of bergamot aromatherapy oil and, childishly, poured it all over him. I think some of it got into his mouth, which made his breathing worse. He got pissed and made me taste the oil. It was disgusting. I soon found it hard to breathe. I knew what it must be like to have asthma. So, he starts freaking out and screaming. By this time we are both stark naked. He goes into the bathroom and is screaming, cussing, and throwing things around. I am still consumed with my own trip in the other room and just want to be blissully happy. He says something about making me experience his nightmare. He wants to make sure I am going through all the Hell that he is, so he comes into the room and attacks me. We start wrestling on the floor, breathless and completely out of our minds. I see a cross on the wall, which reminds me of Jesus and I'm convinced I'm going to die. I think about the world and wonder if it was just my dream. I wonder if everyone else will die when I die. Everything is about to turn black. The bf goes back into the bathroom and strats his screaming again while I die rolling around on the floor thinking about God and Jesus and death. Suddenly, there's a knock on the door. "Police, open up!" a loud voice announces. Oh my God, this can't be real, I'm thinking. It all seemed like a dream to me and I thought that maybe I was already dead....Kick!!!! and the front door falls off its hinges. Two policemen enter the room. They see bf in the bathroom and ask him who he is. He states that he likes to fly airplanes. They enter the bedroom, where I am naked, staring off into space. He tells me to put my clothes on, but I'm sure it's all a dream, so I just sit and stare at this person who is apparently from the bomb squad. I tell him I forgot how to put my clothes on, so he goes into my closet, choooses a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, and Oh My Fucking God he helps me into my pants. At this point, I'm pretty sure I'm getting dressed for my funeral because he says that where we are going there will be a lot of people and I probably don't want to go naked. So...they escort both of us into different police cars. I want nothing more than to be with my bf, but I am alone in the back of a police car tripping my fucking ass off. As we ride, I see my life pass before my eyes. I'm pretty sure this is the end, some kind of transition into the afterlife. We arrive at the emergency room of the local hospital. I am hallucinating as they check my vital stats. I see my bf enter and we look at each other and bust out laughing. All of a sudden everything is completely hilarious. They take us into separate rooms and give us orange juice (how ironic : D ) to come down. I sit in this room still tripping and thinking about Jesus and thinking maybe I should go to church this Sunday for some goddamned reason.