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Holy Reality

As far as the thoughts going through my head and my conclusions as to the nature of reality, my trip is strikingly similar to the trip report called "Jump into the Deep" My father woke me up with a knock on my bedroom door and handed me a Ziploc bag of mushrooms.



As far as the thoughts going through my head and my conclusions as to the nature of reality, my trip is strikingly similar to the trip report called "Jump into the Deep" My father woke me up with a knock on my bedroom door and handed me a Ziploc bag of mushrooms. "What's this?" I asked. "xxxxx sent these for you to try, they're mushrooms"
"Oh.." I sat up, still half asleep. "How much do I take?" It's hard to recall exact dialogue, but he told me to eat the whole bag. I eventually decided to eat half of the bag and crammed the foul tasting things into my mouth. I chewed them thoroughly and swallowed, then went to the kitchen where my dad was sitting. It was only 20 minutes after consumption now and colors were becoming bright as I realized my heart rate was speeding up. This made me nervous as I recalled a few anxiety attacks from my past. I found myself pacing as my father tried to calm me, but the very fact that he was trying to comfort me made it worse because it validated my fear that there was something to be very scared about.

--The trip begins--

It's probably 40 minutes after consumption now and I know that this is gonna be a hell of a ride and that I'm just going to have to weather the storm. I told my father to stop talking to me -- that the tones of his voice were very unsettling and that I didn't trust myself to interact with others right now. I needed to be alone so I headed to the most private room in the house -- the bathroom. I wanted to be in the shower, in the warmth and privacy where I could sort out my thoughts before they spiraled out of control.

I stripped quickly and caught my own gaze in the bathroom mirror. Amazing. A million thoughts shot through my mind as I watched my pupils dilate to huge, black pools. "I am beautiful-- I am the Lion." I said to myself as I watched my cheeks grow slightly rounded and my form morph into a cat-like humanoid. I was amazed by this and utterly fascinated at my beauty. I was fixated on the mirror wondering what would happen next when my bare feet on the cold floor reminded me of how cold it was and why I was in the bathroom. Again the warmth of the shower was calling. My heart was still racing, but it wasn't entirely negative anymore. My feelings were oscillating between joy, excitement, and severe panic. I found myself in a true control loop fearing the stability of my sanity.

Eventually I got the shower on and after some minutes I managed to adjust the temperature to my liking. It was clear that I hadn't even reached my pinnacle yet and that things were soon going to be far more intense. The nature of my perception was changing. Everything seemed to speak to me. Every object that separated from the backdrop in my sight seemed to toss an urgent message at me and I found myself in a fit of tears admiring the perfect beauty of this world, staring at the drops from the shower and seeing each one individually instead of as a blurry cone. Each one refracted colors from the window above where a ray of sunlight intercepted the droplets. My hearing was severely distorted now as all the ambient sounds of the house and outside meshed together and new oscillations and distortions overlapped in what I was thinking of at the time as a "grand symphony"

Now, let me back up for a minute to try to help you better understand why my state of mind shifted so much shortly after this. I had spent the last two years of my life writing every day and every night. I wrote almost nothing but poetry and philosophy. I spent more time thinking over theories and trying to find a science to capturing beauty. So my emotional disposition and the most prevalent thoughts of my common thought cycle are concerning things like space, time, life, politics, god and virtually everything between. Many of the more compelling theories, such as solipsism and pre determinism (absence of free will) were heavily influencing my trip.

I got out of the shower and made my way to my room passing my father on the way. He asks if I'm okay and reminds me that everything will be alright. I don't want to hear this, it sends a shock through me and I try to act normal and tell him I'm going back to sleep. I lock my bedroom door and go to my computer that is right at my bedside. I put on one of my favorite songs, Parabola by Tool. It's an amazing piece of audio that often evokes a lot of emotion in me anyway so I think that it is appropriate. I turn it up loud because I know my father won't mind and no one else will be home for several hours. The song is fast and has a very epic feeling to it. Yes, epic is the perfect word. The lyrics go:

We barely remember who or what came before this precious moment. We are choosing to be here right now. Hold on, stay inside this holy reality-- this holy experience. You're choosing to be here. This body, this body holding me, be my reminder here that I am not alone. This body, this body holding me, feeling eternal, all this pain is an illusion. The song breaks into a guitar solo that thrusts an image into my mind that to this day I shudder when I think about. From a backdrop of dirt and leaves a sprout explodes outward and grows, turning hastily into a twisting mass of stems and then into a clump of mushrooms. It's in black and white just as if you were to film the life of a mushroom colony and time lapse it to see it happen in ten seconds. Then it withers and dies. The song continues:
In this holy reality, in this holy experience, choosing to be here in this body, this body holding me, be my reminder here that I am not alone in this body, this body holding me, feeling eternal all this pain is an illusion. Twirling round with this familiar parabol-- Spinning, weaving 'round each new experience. Recognize this as a holy gift and celebrate this chance to be alive and breathing. A chance to be alive and breathing. The song ends with the words "This body holding me reminds me of my own mortality. Embrace this moment. Remember... We are eternal, all this pain is an illusion."

I lay down in my bed with the song repeating loud next to my head. This is where I made my first big mistake. Somehow, I fell asleep and when I woke up, I did not remember that I had taken mushrooms. I am experiencing major auditory and visual hallucination though my hearing is mostly flooded by the song. My heartbeat has sent my whole universe pulsing and I get the overwhelming feeling that there is no free will as time stretches. It seems like every fifteen or so seconds the songs' beginning springs from the silence and rocks my world. I can no longer move and I am on my back effectively incapacitated as I stare at the wall above my bedroom door. That's the furthest corner of my room from me. Nothing is making sense anymore. When I close my eyes I see temples and mosques built of colorful tiles. I see mosaic patterns built of the same tiles and I am flying over an entire world at amazing speed. I open my eyes to the same image of the far corner of my room but it means nothing. I am paralyzed as nonsensical words and phrases and chaotic undertones shoot through my head. There is a fast oscillation that matches my heartbeat in my head and each beat gives a new word or syllable in iambic pentameter. On this insane day, god is ejaculating in my mouth. He is the retarded child, sticking his hand into the fish tank to pull me, the goldfish, out of water and watch me flop and gasp for air. I am a puppet in this show. This is a movie. This is a predetermined series of events in an eternal circle. This will never stop. My mind and my thread of existence is degrading into an eternal trance here on my back. This will never stop. I am alone and I have no control. My muscles are tight all over and I want to convulse but I can't move. I am more terrified than I have ever been in my life. It is hours before my trip changes phases to something more pleasant.

Wham. I wake up in a backyard, a familiar one. These aren't my clothes. I am wearing a white and blue checkered long sleeve button up shirt. I look left, my father is next to me. Colors are bright. Sounds are distant. "Do you know what happened?" he asks. This reminds me of a cliche scene where the protagonist has died and is in the waiting room for heaven as someone explains to them how they died. At this point I am completely convinced that none of this is real and that this is part of a series of events written in stone that I will be repeating forever, but that I will never truly remember the last time around, only having these moments where I realize that I have indeed been here before. I realize I am in my aunt's backyard as familiar faces come out to talk with my dad. I see my aunt and she is asking my father how I am. He says I'm okay now and that I just had a rough trip. I think that the rough trip was my life. The feeling again can only be described as epic as I hear my father refer to my life in such a casual way. Just a trip. A little trip. What has happened to me? This is heaven? I look up. Skies are blue, clouds are white and fluffy and luminous. I have power here. I am completely delusional. I feel like I need to go out into my world and find my purpose here. My father, being my designated sitter, will not let me wander off.

We are now in grape vineyards and he is physically restraining me. I am experiencing very negative feelings about him as he tries to convince me to come back to my Aunts' house with him. I feel I need to get away from him. At some point I finally decide that in this series of events that are my existence, I have set up a test for myself to pass before I can move on. I must defy the will of my father, my creator, to ascend and move on. I have to beat him in a clash of wills. I cannot let him control me. I am poised to overcome him and experience the feeling of triumph and godhood over and over, but right now, I am at the point in my cycle of events where I must overcome him. So it's down to business. I struggle with him, but he is much stronger than me. (I was 18 years old, 140 pounds. He is 40, and over 200 pounds and very strong) He is carrying me on his shoulder and I am looking up at the sky as it shifts with his footsteps. He tells me he is going to put me down and not to run. He puts me down and I follow him back to my Aunts', deciding that for now I will submit until I can formulate and execute a plan. He promises that when we get back to her house he will get us a ride home. Right now I want to get back to my room and contact someone.

The next thing I remember I am back in my room. People are home now. People that I have to hide all this from. I need to get out of the house and out into my world still. It is here that I will undo my father and leave. I pick up a knife in my room and put it in my pocket. I walk out of my room and to the front door. My Dad is in the kitchen at the table with my grandmother, I think. She doesn't know what's going on with me and I find out later that my father told her that I had a nervous breakdown when I found out one of my friends died. He doesn't want to tell her that I took mushrooms that he brought to me. Anyway, he sees me trying to leave and stops me, telling me to go back to my room. I sit at my computer. The knife is in my pocket, I can feel it. I tell him to "Hand me that" pointing to a video game box in the top of my closet. He turns to get it and I lunge with the knife. He turns around and the knife pierces his chest and slides in. He gasps and steps back. Now I'm in the kitchen and he's on the phone to 911. He can't live. If he lives, I am stuck. He's not real, so it's okay. He must fall. Then I decide I can spare him so long as my will overcomes his. I go for the door and he stops me, stepping into my way with a kitchen chair. I take another slash at him and the next thing I remember I am out the front door and walking down the street. I get a few blocks away and I hear sirens. They're coming for me, I think. I run to the nearby grape vineyard between my house and my Aunts where I crouch down. This is a puzzle that I have to solve. What am I supposed to do? My state is dream-like. Colors are still bright. This can't be real. But the breeze is so cold and it all feels so real. It just has to be a dream. I am coming down now and struggling between two worlds.
After about 45 minutes in the dirt I get up. I have to walk back home to see what's going on. I get back onto my street and walk around the curve for a couple blocks. The area is taped off and people are gathered around. I have to find out if that "really happened". I walk up and stand in the group with all the on looking neighbors, thinking I'll just play it casual since no one in the neighborhood really knows me. I was wrong. A cop tells us all to go away and I pretend to be just another onlooker. I turn to walk away with the rest of them. I get about 20 steps when I hear someone call out something to the affect of "Hey, hold it." I stop and turn. Act casual. Play it off. My mind is buzzing. It's a cop jogging toward me. I decide not to run. He approaches me and asks my name. I give him a fake one. He asks my age, then the year I was born. I stutter. I don't know that there is blood on my back. He cuffs me and I go willingly. I sit in the back of a cop car for a long time and I see people taking pictures of the house. I am starting to accept that this is real, and a mushroom trip, but only about 45 %. I don't entirely accept it until hours later at the police station.

It's in the evening and I am being interviewed by a cop. I give a full confession, still under the influence of the mushrooms.

I spent 30 days in jail and got out on bail. I am on probation. Yes, I did indeed stab my father in the chest. Yes, he lived. Amazing. It's still hard to believe. I moved out of my Grandmothers' house and back down with the other side of my family. I think it's too awkward to go back home. I've talked briefly with my father since. We never did talk much.

Short of actually killing someone or yourself, that's about as bad as it gets. Anyway, the moral of the story is, do your homework. Don't trust anyone else to watch over you or tell you how much or what to take. Be responsible for yourself when dealing with this type of thing. My trip changed my life in more ways than one. There were indeed some positive things that came from it all. I've written some of my best poetry while reflecting on that day. The emotional sensations were eye-opening. I can't say enough about the feelings I experienced and I am reminded every day of how fragile the mind is. I have had several minor flashbacks and awkward moments and one severe panic attack triggered by a movie. I can see how someone with only slightly less mental fortitude could lose control even days later. I did my homework. I read many of these trip reports. My mistake was having a sitter that had never had a bad trip and falling asleep.
Update: I didn't want to put this in the original version of this trip report because it had only been about six months, but I was suffering from moderate depression before the trip. After the trip, I never felt that way again. It's been a couple years now and I feel great. The panic attacks and anxiety have completely subsided and I have chalked it up to experience. I am off of face-to-face probation and all is well. Would I do it again? I think I will someday soon. Under different circumstances, of course.


Feel free to e-mail me if you have any questions. Kronoptic@hotmail.com

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