It was supposed to be fun, but it was more like very hard work.
It started out with fifty grams fresh, but after the Komodo Dragon scooted across the wall in front of ALL of us, we decided to up the ante by eating about three more grams dry.
It was too weird to describe after that. For instance, I saw a landscape that was reminiscent of the Teletubbies environment, complete with partial earth-sheltered homes and such. However, after wandering into one of these shelters, I found that the place seemed to be a casino or something, complete with a roulette wheel that didn't spin, but instead sent the steel marble to and fro via electronic impulse.
My buddy Tom was there, as was his ex-wife Teri. All the woman could do was yell "yee haw!" and complain about the ghosts that were hanging around in the kitchen. But since Tom and I saw them also, we didn't bitch at her about seeing ghosts.
I like the idea of "nonordinary reality" as espoused by the late Carlos Castaneda, and this despite the fact that I think he was either to be taken as allegorical in all his writings OR he should be taken as a fraud or a crackpot-- or both. But he did have a point or two to make, here and there...
Anyway, we all saw the Komodo, and we all saw the ghosts in the kitchen, although I am the only one who seems to have noticed they were all wearing ponchos and sombreros. But I was the only one who saw the earth-sheltered Teletubbie land, or the next planet, which appeared to nothing more than a planet inhabited by no fauna whatsoever-- a planet of nothing but plants. But at least they were green plants, and I enjoyed skimming the surface of that swamp-like place for the eternity or two that I was flying around.
Meanwhile, Tom was seeing a planet full of living machines. These machines were sentient, viable, and so forth-- or so Tom says-- but fastened with fasteners that were made some place farther out than Mars, and totally alien to him.
I wondered aloud if he wasn't seeing some kind of ecto-bio-mechanical life forms in his visions, or visits, or whatever happened to him, and he told me that NO, these living machines were purely MACHINES, with no living tissue (as we account "living tissue" to consist of) in sight. He hung out for several forevers, before he found himself re-entering his body from about four feet above. He is totally convinced that he did some sort of astral projection trip, but who cares? Who can prove it?
As for Teri: she was now wondering aloud if ghosts could fuck. She's pretty simple, that one. No philosophy, no reality. Just fuck, or let's-- or maybe not, since she likes to tease Dick. And then she caught herself and tried to pretend that she wasn't a girl or something. She started talking about Mozart. Tom was dismayed that she laughed when he tried to prong her, and I just closed my eyes to enjoy the flourescent mosaics that were exploding in my head.
And that's when it hit me: the pure white light.
I have read extensively of the original acid experiences of those who were lucky enough to dose on pre-ban (1966 or earlier) Sandoz LSD-25, and many of those who were so fortunate have written extensively of entering a phase where all they saw was a very pure, clean, holy, beautiful white light that pervaded their innermost soul.
To continue bragging about my Big Etheogenic Wherewithall, I would advise my beloved readers that I am also aware that the famous Concord, New Hampshire, Prison Acid Experiment with the late Dr. Timothy Leary at the helm utilized psilocybin as the droog of choice, and that it didn't prove shit.
I am SO impressed with myself. Let me pause for a moment to kiss myself up and down my arm, from my hand to my elbow. Thank you.
YES! The White Light, and YES! One got to chill in the presence of a God who is too powerful, too unknowable, and too vast for my puny human brain to begin to comprehend, and who manifests His, Her, or It self as a pure white light that neither burns nor cools. Whooo! It was my first major shove into the practice of Voodoo, and that is not a joke.
Meanwhile, Tom was wandering around in the house, saying that it was more complicated than Dracula's castle. I ignored him, knowing that he was just wasted on shrooms, where as I was just SO acute.
Teri got off thinking about her sexuality, and started to thinking that the bar she tends is somehow connected to the White House. She figures, for reasons that she is unable to make clear, that if she serves a Cafe Poussé with the color layers in the wrong sequence, that it could trigger either a big drug bust or maybe even all-out thermonuclear war. I hear her saying all that while I float around in the lovely light.
After that, debris went screaming around, turing into red and yellow fuzz, and there was something wrong with everybody's mouth. Nobody could speak the same language, and I was hiding beneath a window, ready to ambush whoever decided it was time to burglarize the house we were tripping in. I tried to scream, but all kinds of butterflies flew out of my mouth and gagged me. Tom was laughing so hard that his eyes bled, and nobody gave a damn about Teri's tits any more.
I was in three caves at once, and a bear with a shotgun appeared, trying to blast me so that he could mount my head before it was time to hibernate.
I saw the unity of all things, and forgave the bear for trying to kill me. But I was annoyed that he didn't go kill some redneck hunter instead. After all, I never shot bears and never wanted to. Fuck that bear!
God got pissed, and flicked off the white light. I found myself sitting on the couch, totally aloof to the plight of Teri, who was crying for some reason, and Tom, who was trying to go back to the Planet of the Machines.
It was all too weird. And they wonder why I don't trust the ice I'm standing on. Nothing makes sense, and it almost never did.
Too much, man. The ghosts were still in the kitchen, and I pissed through a meat pipe, horrified at my hands. I didn't give a crap about sex, or about money, or about power, or about anything.
I just wish I could go back into that white light...