Identity Crisis

Amount: 4.7 grams dried psilocybin mushrooms.
Setting: Friend's house, comfortable and familiar, quiet settings.
Food: Small amount, some snacks hours earlier but nothing heavy.
Preparation: As always (for me, at least), placed in peanut butter sandwhich to completely mask taste.
Other substances: None.
Me: 20 year old male, 140 lbs.

The Lead-In
I arrived on location at Scott's house with Eric and 14 grams of shroomage, and we ate our peanut-butter and shroom sandwiches. The stomach jitters set in after about 10 minutes. Gorillaz eased me into a jittery start, but I was captivated by this picture on Scott's desktop. The eye was communicating with me, sucking me in, and the room vibrated. The audio from my visit to hell during the trip in Wisconsin returned. Every once in a while Eric would say something and snap me out of it, but inevitably the eye would suck me in again.

The Hilarity
Scott had busted out the TV-Out earlier (as we always do) so he started playing some music videos. Holy hell, there aren't any words to describe just how funny the videos seemed. There was a video with a bunch of beautiful women doing aerobics, I forget what the song is, and Eric enjoyed it, but then he played Queen's I Want To Be Free. Eric said, "Oh my god, this is like the last video, but the exact opposite! Turn it off!" I was laughing incredibly hard, but apparently, not out loud. Then Yatta, and then it hit me hard and my memory gets spotty.

The Shift
Reality was abruptly lost upon me, as things are always fairly sudden when it comes to shrooms. This is just one of those things. Your average every-day person isn't capable of understanding the mind-demolishing loss of identity that was soon to come. Suddenly I was just a shell of a man. An image of Sarah popped into my head, along with her name. Who is Sarah? Is she my girlfriend? Do I even know a Sarah? I was on the couch and Eric and Scott rushed over. Eric said, "Are you alright? Dude, are you okay?" I was unable to speak. Eric looked at Scott, who then said, "I think he's having a bad trip." There was a screen between us and I was in a black hole. I could not communicate, and it was like I was watching this exchange of words through a grainy security monitor. They were outside of my trip and I was a goner. I grunted and wobbled my head up and down in an attempt to assure them I was in control and I guess it worked, because they wandered off. They were talking, and my memory kept erasing every couple of seconds or so. Who were these guys? Who am I? What are they talking about? And every few seconds I would create entire complicated backstories on who they were and how I got in Scott's house, only to have them dissipate again. It wasn't even so much that I didn't know who I was. More like I just didn't exist, or I was a ghost, observing the experience from a plane that was inaccessible to Eric and Scott. I struggled to maintain touch with reality and eventually gave up. Eric asked me if this was how I felt when I was in Wisconsin. My head bobbled. The mention of Wisconsin took me back in time and I was right there in North Prairie again. I reached out for Heidi but she wasn't there. I was on her couch watching Fight Club. Then I disappeared for a while. Maybe an hour? No thought. No emotion. No communication. Every once in a while I would come to, just to see something ridiculous like Eric standing on the ceiling, which certainly did not help (it was actually Eric grabbing the steel girter on the ceiling and flipping upside down, but that was unbeknownst to me). I was not able to feel. I reached for a blanket, anything that I could touch with my fingers, but there was only a pillow, and despite me grabbing it, I could not feel it. It was intangible.

The Comeback
And, just as abruptly as it began, it ended. Every memory in my brain whooshed by and fell into place like a game of Tetris, but without the disappearing lines. It was 3:15 AM and I was coming down. The stunning color and detail in everything soothed me and a stereoscopic Eric sat on the bed next to me and it was like we all came down to the same point at the same time. Life was good. I had felt like I had been tripping forever, like it was the only feeling I knew. I thought it would go on forever. We also watched the aerobics video again and other videos with women in it. We marveled at the female body. I didn't really want to bone any of them, I had neither the capacity nor the will. It was more like a deep-seated appreciation and respect for the natural beauties of the opposite sex. Then I reached a state of Chill that no one but me will ever understand. When I'm coming down from shrooms I am nearly in a state of euphoric hibernation. At that point I wished for a woman to appear on the bed with me, so I could cuddle. I had so much love to give and no one to give it to.

Retrospective
Once again, one might say I had a bad trip. But I did not see it as such. At no point was I in any mental, physical or emotional anguish. Uncomfortable, yes, but not distraught. Eric and Scott were neck and neck through their trips, although we all started off differently. Me slowed down, Eric full of energy, and Scott not feeling any effects. Also, Eric said that I always look different when I'm shrooming, and Scott seconded this. Like I'm darker. I've heard this a few times now so I'm inclined to believe it. I'm not all that surprised; when shrooming I reach dark recesses of my mind that I usually pretend don't exist. You can't hide from anything on shrooms though... you can't hide.

"For we are the room nomads, who sleep in people teepees."