The subject is studying abroad for a semester, in Germany. He finds out that mushrooms are legal in the Netherlands, and, being a poli. sci student, understands the lax nature of borders within the EU. He orders 75 grams of fresh Psilocybe Tampanensis, more commonly referred to as Philosphers Stones, or Truffles, from a random site. A gamble.
The package arrives four days later, earlier than expected, at the study abroad center where packages are to be sent. A small, unassuming package from the Netherlands, in plain view. "Hobby supplies."
He gets back to his room at eight or so in the evening. It's a Monday night, but he's excited and decides to try the product. Splitting the contents into five piles, he downs one, approximately 15g fresh, the recommended high-end dose according to the website. Along with the Truffles, goes a glass or two (or three) of orange juice, which some theorize might enhance the effects of the Psilocybe. At any rate, it makes the taste stronger, but in a way, more palatable. The Student begins writing about the experience, in an orderly fashion in a word document on his laptop. He is only interrupted in this time once, by a knock on the door by one of his roommates (the fellow American). He laughs uncertainly, nervously, at the thought of studying with the roommate for a German quiz they have tomorrow. He declines.
After roughly forty-five minutes, little is felt besides nausea. Another 5-8g is ingested at this point. Fifteen, twenty minutes later, distinct patterns begin to emerge. Faint, but obvious. The room is dark, with a reddish hue because of the light reflecting off of the red in a Tibetan flag hanging on the wall. Fractals appear on the walls, which are warmer and redder than they've ever been before.
The Student remembers that some had mentioned how amazing simple smoke looks while on Psilocybe, so he packs his pipe, and puffs the tobacco dramatically. It's immensely enjoyable, but after a bit, nausea sets in again, so he lays down. He listens to Radiohead, and chats online. He oinks at people on his IM program. He is one with the Earth, he has eaten the truffles. He is a pig. Oink, oink. Haha. He is reminded of the pet potbelly that his family owns back home. He does all of this lightheartedly.
He is also pretty randy at this point in time. "Randy as a pig," as the saying goes. Whether or not that is a saying is irrelevant. He wants to call Somebody, but can't find his cell phone. He would not be able to push the buttons either, he realizes. He could take the cell phone to his American roommate, and ask him to call Her. But no, he doesn't have Her number on hand. This is all too complicated. Why does everything have to be so complicated? Why can't we just live like pigs, oinking around, sniffing for truffles. Reveling in them. Oink. The oinks are somewhat more serious by now. There is truth in what the pigs have to say.
Going to the bathroom is an interesting experience. First, he must be quick, sly. Invisible, to avoid his flatmates (especially the Germans). Luckily, the shared bathroom is just around the corner. The bathroom itself is odd, especially when compared to the warmth of the room. The bathroom has a green tinge to it, cold, antiseptic, and pissing is an odd sensation. He feels utterly disconnected with the flacid penis he props up as he urinates. It could be anyone's. What an odd body part. The third time (for our Student drank a lot of orange juice and water), he is unable to find his way through the puzzling folds of his pants and shorts. He gives up, and desperately holds it in the rest of the night.
Looking into the bathroom mirror during these excursions from his room is frightening. Things seem off, our Student doesn't dwell on it for long. He had been told to avoid mirrors, that they could be Bad. And at any rate, He hates to leave the warm, dark coccoon of his room.
Yet, he does. Sometime, early enough in the night that he remembers it, probably about 11, he wants to seek out people. To share in the beauty of the world. There is another person in his study abroad program, in the flat exactly above him. Our Student has the wit to take his keys so that he can get back into his apartment, but not enough to wear shoes (the shoes would just disconnect him from the ground, mother Earth (despite the fact that he's inside)). He wanders up to the second floor, stands in front of the door uncertainly. What is his Friend's name again? He finally remembers, buzzes, and is invited in. It's apparent that he's high on something. "life?" Yes, completely.
The gig is up, his cover, blown. But our Student is jolly, and attempts to chat for a minute. The Friend is going to sleep, but the Student is invited to watch the fishtank. The Student doesn't care about the fishtank. He wanders back downstairs, but the lights are out. He can't find the keyhole. The Student stands there for a time, wondering what to do. He could buzz his American roommate. "Forgot the keys." No! No, that wouldn't work. He must find the lightswitch. Where is it.
The Student would be content to stand in the cold hallway for awhile, but is afraid of Germans, and he is fairly certain even in this state that his feet are bleeding.
Time is strange at this point. Quite meaningless. Our Student finally gets back inside his apartment, inside his room.
By this time, the log of events on his computer is worthless. He understands that. It is meaningless. Words are meaningless. He thrashes at the keyboard of the laptop. What a fool he had been to think he could type this all down. That it would be worth doing.
The open eye visuals are interesting, but controllable. The closed eye visuals are terrifying. And they speak to him. By this time, he is unable to sit up. It is too much effort. He lies on the bed, melting into it. He is half off of the bed, but this doesn't matter. Looking around the room, it is warm, and comfortable. Except for the large window at the far end of the room. It is dark out there, dark and cold. Anyone could be watching. He ignores the window.
Thoughts are incoherent. How do you make a thought? What is "life"? "Death"? What is "what"? Throughout the night, two seperate ideas have been floating around in the Student's head. Firstly, he is now certain why the truffles are illegal. This is too strong. "Thank god these are illegal." "Of course these are illegal." Secondly, he is certain that all of the world's problems could be solved through the use of this magical drug, Psilocybe. "All of the World Leaders need to do mushrooms!" "Bush! Come on, Bush. Blair.."
But no more. The only thing the student can do, is oink."Oink. Oink." He reassures himself that he is not dying, by oinking in his mind. "Death" does not make sense, at all. But everyone says it is a bad thing. And he might be dying. He is thirsty, dying of thirst. It's been known to happen. But oinking is reassuring. So occasionally he oinks. But besides that, his mind is a complete blank. His body, an empty shell, an empty, nonsensical thing. It is just another part of the incomprehenable universe. He is one with everything. With the bed. With the room, the pigs. The Earth.
This continues for an eternity. Somewhere along, consciousness is completely lost.
The Student regains counsciousness hours later. It is now seven or eight in the morning. Everything is totally unreal. The events of the previous night and morning are Real. This, this New Reality. This is insanity. Obscene. He slowly gets to his feet, and walks to the bathroom. Everything looks odd, He is looking at everything for the first time. He remembers nothing of this Reality, until he looks at it. He is able to remember things he sees, but beyond his immediate environment, there is nothing. Continents don't make sense. He knows that he is in a place called "Germany", and that it's across water from "home". But this doesn't make sense. Why name a place? Why is there water there? Why is he not at home? What's the difference between home and "Germany"? These are questions that were raised in the previous night, but now it is a new day, and he slowly begins to comprehend them. Slowly.
He skips his 9am class out of necessity. It is too early to face things like Public Transportation, or Other Students, or People Speaking Differently.
The Student must, however, go to his 12:30 class, German. To take the quiz. Our Student takes the quiz, but it is meaningless. Worthless. Our Student is not studying German, or politics. He's a student of the universe, if but for a brief time. The events of the previous night are still paramount, and all of the rest of this. It's petty. Petty Bullshit. We're all just pigs, burrowing around in mud. If more could just see this. Life doesn't have to be so complicated.
- First psychoactive experience – mid October, 2005
- Psilocybe Tampanensis (aka Philosophers Stones aka Truffles) – est. 20-23g (FRESH) (w/ OJ)
- Mood had been consistently upbeat / content in the days / weeks leading up to experience
- First dose, 9PM, mushrooms chewed lightly, swallowed pretty quickly (possibly explaining longish time to take effect (+1hr 15m))
- Had fasted for apr. 12hr beforehand
- 185lb, 21yo male